Waking was like pulling herself out of a tar pit. Sleep and oblivion had their clutching fingers locked tightly around her, and they did not want to let go.
Darcy pried her eyes open with a soft protest. Everything hurt. Everything. She could feel every slam that Natasha had treated her to as fresh as the moment it had happened. When she tried to sit up, other places hurt. The night swam back to her in a rush. Flashes of an embarrassing display in an elevator, and then total ravishment in a hotel room. She had been out of her mind with need. So much so that she couldn't think coherently.
There was no sign of Luke as she very carefully slid out of bed. Oh wow. She hadn't known the human body could hurt that badly and still function. It felt like she'd been pummeled by a giant, pillow covered hammer, all over. Some parts hurt worse than other parts. There was a stinging pain on her lower lip, and the side of her face ached terribly. Her ribcage hurt deeply inside, probably from crashing into the wall hard a few times, courtesy of Natasha. Her left shoulder also hurt terribly, but not as bad as it had last night.
Then there were the other hurts. The muscles in her legs, hips, and abdomen felt like they'd been on the rack for hours – stretched and now painfully sore. There was a deep, throbbing ache between her legs and inside her. The man had practically been a machine. Four times he'd gone, and when he'd reached for her the fifth time, she'd felt like crying. How much insane, blissful pleasure could one take before the body and brain gave up? She couldn't do it again, and had begged him to let her be. He had, reclining back in the bed with one arm behind his head, completely comfortable in his nakedness. It had been such a turn on that Darcy couldn't resist a parting shot. She had flopped over and wiggled down his body to demonstrate her oral talents. He had been loudly appreciative, yanking on her hair hard enough to pull some strands free.
Afterwards, she had been completely wiped out, and sleep had taken her quickly.
She was probably forever ruined now. Darcy couldn't picture herself settling for a regular fanboy again, with their somewhat doughy bodies, and tentative, fumbling sex. Luke had put them all, combined, to shame. Hell, he'd even put Clint to shame, and Clint was a fun, skilled lover. But he had nothing on Luke's talents.
Thoughts of Clint led her to why she had gotten beat up by Natasha, and Darcy gasped, tears springing almost instantly to her eyes. Clint was in the hospital, in a coma, and she had been crass enough to fall into bed with a lover, completing indulging herself. Poor Clint had been stabbed and almost killed, likely by Thor's crazy little brother Loki, and here she was, scratching, no…blasting an itch. What the hell was wrong with her?
With mincing little steps, trying to minimize the pain, Darcy made her way to the bathroom. A stranger stared back at her from the bathroom mirror. A stranger that looked somewhat like a vampire on a seven day bender. The blood crusted on her lip and trailing down over her chin freaked her out, until she realized that she'd either bitten it open in her sleep, or the rough kissing of the night before had caused the bite wound in the lower lip to break open.
There was an ugly purpling bruise spreading across most of her right cheek and into her eye. She had felt that one the whole way down when Natasha slammed her. The eye itself was swollen and bloodshot. It hurt to move her face at all.
Darcy winced, raising one hand to her hair, which was a tangled mess of awful. Well no wonder! She'd had a very energetic night, plus there had been the tugging. Thank God Luke wasn't around currently to see her, because she did look frightening. Small children would probably run from her right now.
She needed to pee and then she needed to shower. Darcy had to stifle a chuckle (because it hurt too much) when she saw the note on the toilet seat. Who puts a note on the toilet seat? Luke, apparently.
His handwriting was beautiful and neat, with graceful looping lines. It informed her that he had had to leave to take care of some emergency problems with his new job. She should feel free to avail herself to anything in the apartment, and he would see her at some later time or day.
Darcy wasn't sure if it was a brushoff or not. Luke seemed to be someone who could easily keep people at arm's length, not letting anyone close. She knew it was only a temporary thing at best, but she wanted the chance to know him better. More than just the physical. Although that had been fantastic.
With little pained sounds, she managed to get into the shower stall. The hot, pounding water felt so good. It really freaked her out at first because it ran red as it cleaned the crusted blood from her face. She just stood there for the longest time, allowing the heat to loosen and soothe her muscles. Finally, she felt like she could move a little more freely, so she very carefully soaped herself, and then washed her wild, tangled hair. Thankfully the hotel had small bottles of conditioner to go with the shampoo, so she used them all to help loosen the snarls in her hair.
Finally though, she had to get out of the shower, because her skin was wrinkling too much. Darcy wrapped one towel around her hair, and another around her abused body. She had bruises all over, both from Natasha, and her night of debauchery with Luke.
The shower had exhausted her though, so she shuffled to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed for a little. When she felt up to it, she managed to gather her clothes and get dressed. Her hair was still wet, so she twisted it into a knot at the nape of her neck so that it didn't look too bad. No matter what she did, she was still going to look like she was taking the walk of shame when she left the room.
She had emergency makeup in her bag, and covered up her bruises as best as she could. Thankfully, some of Coulson's more bizarre habits had rubbed off on her, because she actually had spare clothes for work. There was no way she was going into work in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday. There were too many nasty jokes waiting to happen if she did that.
Before she left, she did find paper to leave her own note. Not on the toilet, but on the bathroom mirror. It thanked Luke for a wonderful night, and provided her cell number in case he wanted to call.
Darcy had enough time to swing by the hospital before work. Her footsteps lagged quite a bit, but she couldn't not visit.
She wasn't sure what had happened overnight, but there were three S.H.I.E.L.D agents on duty outside Clint and Thor's room. Apparently it had been easier to leave the fallen God of Thunder in the same room than to try to move him. But why were there guards? And these weren't the grunts she worked with, either. These were the high level, lethal-with-a toothpick agents she normally didn't see.
All three of them came to attention when she approached. Darcy flashed her S.H.I.E.L.D badge, but that didn't seem to affect them. The smallest of the three stepped forward with a mobile retina scanner, and raised an eyebrow.
Darcy pulled her glasses off and leaned forward. "Is this really necessary?"
"Yes ma'am," the smallest agent advised. He studied the results, and then flipped open his phone. "You're on the approved list, so you may enter."
"There's a list?" What the hell had happened last night?
"Yes ma'am. There are rumors all over the city of an insane super villain who is targeting the team. I believe you know the identity of the alleged villain, so you can understand why precautions are being taken."
It was still weird, no matter what. Darcy pushed past them a little warily, and entered the hospital room. Thor looked entirely too big for the hospital bed he was sprawled on. It was the first time Darcy had ever seen him look pale, and it was a little unsettling, but she still hadn't forgiven him for what had happened yesterday. So she pretty much ignored his presence, and went to Clint's bedside.
The archer was still horribly pale and still. If the beeping machines hadn't reassured her…he almost looked like a corpse. Not that she'd seen a lot of corpses. But he didn't look like a person who was alive.
"Hey archer boy," she greeted softly. "I'm on my way to work, but I had to stop in and say hi. Come back soon, okay? I could use another sympathetic ear. Plus, the city is all full of rumors, and…it's just bad times right now." She squeezed his hand. "I'd feel a lot safer if you were up and about. Just saying…"
She hoped that Clint could hear her. His sense of duty to protect others was a driving force in what motivated him, and she hoped by appealing to that sense of duty, it would make him fight harder to come back.
"I…I really need someone to talk to, archer boy. Someone who will stand up for me. You and Jane, you're like the only ones left I know I can trust. Well, in a pinch, maybe Banner and Rogers, but it's iffy. Please come back." She checked her watch and swore softly. "I gotta go, Clint. I'm gonna be late." Then she thought about what had happened yesterday at work. "You know what? Fuck 'em." She sat down beside the bed and took his hand.
"I'm a shitty person. You know that, right? A total douche. I'm shitty because last night, when I was leaving work, I bumped into that strange fanboy who turned me down the other day. He …well, he wanted to have some fun, and I should have said no, but I was under the influence of narcotic painkillers, so I said yes. God…I know we're not dating or anything, but it still feels like it was a betrayal of some kind. Here you are, lying in the hospital after you were stabbed, and I go out to get laid."
"My night was unbelievable…in case you wondered. This guy….he's so different. He's like a god." Darcy sighed, lost in very blush-worthy memories. "Anyhow…I'm really thinking that I'm just gonna take off soon. Let Coulson and Fury bring their wrath down upon me because I want to be…anywhere else. There's no point in me being here. It was cool at first, and getting to have a little fun with an honest to God superhero was really awesome, but there's no future in it. We make great fuck buddies, Clint, but I know who has your heart, and I'll never be like her. I wouldn't want to be. I think you could do so much better." Darcy blinked back the tears that were threatening. "Shit. Why is this my life? I hope you can hear me, archer boy. Anyhow…I really gotta go. They're gonna yell at me for being late. Maybe they'll fire me and save me the trouble? Nah…they'd never make it that easy. Besides, I imagine that getting fired from a secret government agency is a little different than normal jobs. Later, Clint."
Darcy wasn't moving too well or fast when she finally hit the tunnel from hell. Ugh. It looked like it was five miles long, the way she felt. She had to rest three times before she made it to the other end and the elevator.
It was somewhat gratifying to hear the catcalls trail off into a stunned silence when she made her way through the agents' area. There was no way to hide the swollen eye, and no amount of concealer in the world could cover the dark purple bruise along the side of her face. Add to that the fact that she was walking like a zombie, and Darcy had everyone's attention. She didn't give a shit.
"Is that Lewis?" Coulson's voice, hard edged with anger, floated out of his office. "In my office right now, Lewis."
Darcy altered her trajectory, vaguely aware of the quiet murmuring behind her.
Coulson was staring at his computer screen, typing angrily. He didn't even look up. It was the most emotion Darcy had seen him display in…well…ever.
"Sit down, Lewis."
Darcy did so, very gingerly.
"You do realize that you are an hour and a half late for work, correct?"
"Yes sir," she responded. Part of her hoped she would be fired.
Coulson was still staring at his computer screen, lips compressed. "I believe I also explained to you about the importance of being punctual, when you first began working for us."
"Yes sir."
"This kind of behavior is not acceptable and will not be tolerated." Coulson finally looked up at her. Darcy wished she could have had a camera on his face, because he suddenly realized why she was late. It was almost worth the beating to see the open-mouthed expression on her boss's face. Or any expression.
Coulson opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and then looked down at his keyboard. "I'm sorry, Darcy. I didn't realize that you were handled that roughly yesterday." He raised his gaze to meet her eyes.
She didn't say anything, enjoying his unease. Maybe she should have left the dried blood on her face for extra effect. Coulson was almost squirming in his seat, eyes tracking the visible damage and no doubt wondering about the damage that wasn't visible.
"Do you…need anything?" he finally asked.
"Not from anyone here," Darcy responded in scornful tone. "May I go now, sir?"
"Yes."
Darcy knew his eyes were on her as she stood, very carefully, and walked out of his office. Okay, she might be milking it a little bit, but she wanted them all to feel horrible. She wanted them all to feel like she did.
Word must have traveled because within an hour, Jane was at her desk, spinning her chair around. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened. "Oh my God, Darcy! Natasha did this to you?"
"She was upset about what happened to Clint, and thought one of my fanboys had done it," Darcy shrugged dully. She was done with all of them, except Jane and Clint. No one else would stand up for her, so fuck them.
Jane reached out toward her chin, but Darcy pulled back. "Please don't." She didn't want Jane to see the little bruising nip marks on her neck that she had attempted to cover with concealer. It hadn't been entirely affective. It really didn't matter, since Jane only had eyes for the giant bruise and swollen eye.
"This is so not fucking okay!" Jane was getting a little loud in her agitation, and Darcy didn't really want to call attention to herself.
"Don't worry about it, Jane. I'll be fine."
"Like hell!" The scientist turned on her heel and stormed away. If Darcy had felt slightly better, she might have gone after her, because it looked like Jane was going to hand someone their spleen on a platter. Which could be really cool, and Darcy wanted to watch.
Coulson got the dressing down of his life. Darcy could hear it even through the closed office door. Which had slammed shut hard enough to rattle windows. Jane might be a thin little thing, but she was ferocious. And right now, she was giving Coulson hell. Darcy couldn't understand the words through the closed door, but she could hear the tone. Jane was pissed. It made her feel slightly better to know that there was at least one person who was on her side.
With another window rattling slam, Jane exited Coulson's office. She was still spouting as she walked back to Darcy's desk.
"And someone is going to answer for this shit!"
At the moment, Jane was more intimidating than Thor. Darcy stared up at her friend with a little trepidation. Jane looked like she was ready to bite someone.
"I'm tired of the way you're treated, Darce. And since no one else is going to stand up for you, I will." The scientist hopped up to sit on Darcy's desk. "I talked to Stark, you know." Her head drooped. "Thor is gonna hear about it, when he wakes up. I don't care what was going on. You're a friend, and he just watched it happen!"
Tears threatened, burning in the abused eye. Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. "Don't make me cry, you bitch," she complained. "I've had a shitty, yet also completely amazing, couple of days."
Jane leaned over to awkwardly hug her. "I know about the shitty part. Tell me about the completely amazing part, because I could use some cheering up."
Darcy started with the good times with Clint. It never failed to make Jane a little sad that the archer couldn't give up his mad obsession for Natasha. Jane, more than anyone, had wanted Darcy and Clint to work, because Jane knew Clint was a good guy. Jane wanted Darcy and Clint more than Darcy and Clint had wanted it, and she still held out hope every time the two of them got together.
Jane was looking all fluttery eyed and swooney by the time Darcy finished. Darcy had, of course, included very dirty details. She never would have gotten anything out of Jane about Thor's bedroom prowess if she hadn't spilled on Clint's. It still made both men a little nervous when the two women looked at them with knowing looks.
"Oh Darce…I just wish…it's so romantic."
Darcy raised the eyebrow that wasn't hovering over the swollen eye. "What about that entire situation did you find romantic, Foster? The cheesy pickup lines, or the Iron Man condoms?"
Jane shrieked with a little laugh, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth. "That was the best. I have to get some of those." She sighed then. "You and Clint are perfect. Why…?"
"Because," Darcy said firmly. "We're much better as friends than we were in that very brief time where we tried to have an actual relationship. And we occasionally have the physical benefits." Then, just because she had to share, Darcy leaned toward Jane and lowered her voice. "And that wasn't the best part of my two days."
Jane's eyes popped open. "Do tell, girl."
Darcy launched into the tale of Luke. Why not? It kept her mind off the pain, and it was nice to have stories to top Jane's own. Secretly, Darcy hoped Jane would tell Thor this story, so that Thor would feel inadequate. And he should! Luke had outperformed a god. Jane's eyes kept growing larger and larger as Darcy waxed eloquent over Luke's prowess and how he looked, how he felt…
How he felt…ohmigod, how he felt! Darcy felt the blood drain from her face, and her stomach bottomed out on the floor. She was careful. She was always careful, even though it seemed foolish with the fanboys. But she hadn't been careful. She hadn't even thought…
Jane saw the change in her face. "What? Darcy, what is it?" The scientist leaned forward, her thin face creased in worry.
"I didn't…Jane…I wasn't careful! I'm always careful. But I didn't even think about it with Luke!" Darcy felt dangerously close to hyperventilating. It was so completely unlike her to be so reckless. She wanted to puke.
She saw some color drain from Jane's face. "That's…not like you, Darce. Do you have a way to contact this Luke? You need to talk to him."
Darcy was having trouble focusing, mind cheerfully supplying all kinds of horrifying things that could go with unprotected sex. "Uh…I know where he's staying."
Jane nodded. "Then you need to go talk to him after work." The scientist bit her lip. "I hope that he's a good guy."
Darcy grimaced. Deep down, in that place where her warning voices lived, she knew that Luke wasn't. If someone's health stood between Luke and what he wanted, heaven help that person. In an acknowledgment of her own problems, she had to admit that was part of the attraction. She wanted to tell Jane that Luke was probably the one Jane kept warning her about, but at the same time, she didn't.
"I guess I'll find out," she finally offered quietly.
Jane finally had to get back to her job, so she awkwardly hugged Darcy again. "I hope that something comes of my bitch fest." She reached out to not-quite touch the side of Darcy's face. "This is unacceptable."
Darcy had the funny feeling that nothing would come of it. She was a trouble maker.
Lunch had been a no-go. Darcy had tried to eat something, but she was in so much pain (and worrying so much about unprotected sex) that her stomach rebelled at first bite, so she just settled for sipping water and taking more pain pills. All the S.H.I.E.L.D agents who usually harassed her were giving her a wide berth. Darcy had gotten so used to the catcalls wherever she was that it was unnerving when everything went silent around her.
She was getting very strange looks. It seemed that some of the agents held a grudging respect for her now. She had taken lumps from the Black Widow, and hadn't made a complaint about it. She had come in to work the day after with her head held up. Hell, if she had known that getting beat up would give her some peace, she would have done it months ago.
A polite knock sounded on her cubicle wall. Darcy looked up to see Rogers and Banner. Steve's expression, when he caught sight of her face, was mildly horrified. Bruce seemed to be sad. Sad was better than big and green, which was what he had been the last time he had been in the Darcy Zone.
"How are you doing, Darcy?" Rogers asked softly.
"I feel as bad or worse than I look," she retorted. "How about you, Cap? 21st century treating you okay lately?" She couldn't keep the hard edge out of her voice. He was only here out of a sense of duty. Or orders.
Rogers flinched a little. "Darcy…I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. Natasha was out of line."
Darcy held a hand up. "I really don't want to hear any excuses or justifications. I know where I rank on the list of importance here, Rogers. I think I know exactly what will come of it, too. You can go now. Duty fulfilled."
If she'd slapped him, it probably wouldn't have surprised him more. Rogers blinked, tried to say something twice, but then just closed his mouth. He bowed his head and retreated.
Bruce lingered for a moment. "For what it's worth, Darcy, you've handled yourself well." He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he shrugged and also withdrew.
It wasn't worth much.
Darcy resumed working, even though she could barely concentrate. Between the pain and the sick to her stomach feeling, it was very hard to focus on transcribing reports. The whole right side of her body, down to her hips, was throbbing. It was also very hard to focus her swollen eye on the reports. Any attempt to squint, to improve focus, set off more pounding pain. Apparently, there was only so much that painkillers could do.
When a shadow fell over her, Darcy tilted her head up, painfully. "Go away," she said as soon as she saw who it was. "I don't want to talk to you."
Stark ignored her. He looked ridiculous with his carefully groomed facial hair and sunglasses inside the building. Darcy couldn't help but feel a flash of anger as she remembered how he had watched Natasha go nuts on her. When he reached out toward her face, Darcy jerked back and batted his hand away, and then gasped as pain spiked through her body. For one awful second, the world went dark, and it took everything she had to keep from puking.
"Shit," she heard Stark mumble, as she breathed carefully, eyes squeezed shut. If felt like someone was running a steamroller up and down over her body.
"You'd better come take a look at this."
It didn't register at first that Stark was talking on his phone, and she wondered who he was talking to. It wasn't really that important. Not puking…that was important.
The intense, nausea-inducing pain finally ebbed, and Darcy pried her eyes open. Tony Stark was staring at her with a worried expression. She hadn't thought Stark capable of worrying about anyone but himself, so it was a revelation.
"Not gonna puke?" he asked.
"No." Darcy lifted a bottle of water to her lips and took several small sips until she was sure that wouldn't. Stark's intense stare was creeping her out and making her mad. After all, he could have prevented this. She tried to ignore him, focusing on her computer screen, but she could feel his eyes burning into her.
"What?" she finally snapped, not looking at him. "Enjoying your handiwork from yesterday?"
"My handiwork?' he protested. "I didn't do this to you."
"I hold you and Thor as equally responsible as Natasha. You could have stopped it."
She carefully turned to look at him, and Stark appeared even more worried. Of course. He was probably going to catch hell for not doing anything to stop Natasha. She hoped he did. Ass.
She was very surprised when Fury rounded the corner and stepped into her cubicle. It was getting very crowded, and not in a pleasant way.
The director did not look happy. His eye widened slightly at the site of Darcy's face, then narrowed when he glanced at Stark.
"Lewis. I want you to get checked out at the hospital. That looks bad."
"Feels bad too. What? Suddenly everyone is concerned? No one seemed to care yesterday."
It was worth it to see Nick Fury look uncomfortable. "We had other things on our mind yesterday, Lewis."
Darcy nodded carefully. "Yeah. Like I told Rogers…No thank you, Nick. I'm just fine."
He scowled, and jerked a thumb at Stark, who practically ran from the cubicle. Fury took a seat on the desk beside Darcy's computer, and scowled down at her. "It's not a suggestion, Lewis. It's an order."
"Too little too late, Nick. I prefer not to know what got fucked up inside me yesterday." Darcy swallowed hard, because that statement covered two separate events. The physical beating, and the not-so-smart unprotected sex later. How had she even been able to have sex with this much pain? She didn't remember any pain from last night. Just unbelievable, overwhelming pleasure.
Fury usually swung with her way of doing things, but he wasn't backing down this time. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd like to remind you of the agreements you signed when you began your employment. Agent Jones will be by shortly to escort you to the hospital."
Darcy knew when she was beaten. "Fine. Goodbye Nick. I have work to finish."
Apparently, being a government agent cut through a lot of steps at the hospital. Darcy, under the close supervision of not only Agent Jones but Steve Rogers as well, was ushered right in with no waiting to have an MRI done. She felt like a criminal with her two escorts. At least they weren't permitted in the same room as the MRI equipment.
After it was finished, and Darcy was allowed to dress, she was ushered to a small private waiting room, along with her bodyguards. She wondered if Fury suspected she would attempt to lose Agent Jones, and that's why Rogers was here. Or maybe this was S.H.I.E.L.D's way of pretending to care. The captain hadn't uttered a word to her since his departure from the Darcy Zone earlier, but he was watching her carefully.
In a remarkably short period of time, an aide appeared, and gestured for Darcy to follow. When her escorts stood with her, the aide held out a negating hand.
"I'm sorry gentleman. You'll need to wait here. I'll have Miss Lewis back shortly."
Jones didn't care and sat back down right away, but Rogers looked wary. After a few seconds of the aide staring at him, the captain took his seat again.
Darcy was taken to a private consult room. She didn't think that was standard procedure, and that worried her a little. When a female doctor, along with several other women, entered the room, she was a little suspicious.
It began normally enough. Darcy had several cracked ribs, a hairline fracture in her right cheekbone and jaw, and a separated shoulder. There were also torn muscles. She was not allowed to work for the next week while things mended.
The doctor folded her hands on the table in front of her and leaned forward a little. "Miss Lewis – do you feel threatened or unsafe?"
Darcy's eyebrows went up. "Frequently, but probably not for the reasons you're thinking. I can't tell you why. It's classified." She had always wanted to say that. "Why don't you tell me what you're getting at? I have places to be, and people to talk to."
The doctor inclined her head. "Were you raped?"
Darcy blinked. "What?"
"We scanned down to your knees, Miss Lewis. You had a great deal of trauma in your pelvic region, consistent with rape."
Darcy was mortified. "Oh wow. Believe me; that was completely consensual. Just a little more enthusiastic and full of stamina than I had anticipated."
The doctor had been studying her very carefully, and apparently, her explanation was satisfactory. "Okay. We will be providing a report to your agency about the other injuries. I'll leave out the part about your…recreational injuries."
Thank God. Darcy didn't want to imagine the look on Fury's or Coulson's face reading that part of her report.
"I'm also writing you a prescription for some heavy duty painkillers. They're a little stronger than what you've been using. They should help keep the pain to a tolerable level." The doctor leveled a mothering stare at Darcy. "No recreational activities for at least a week also."
That was slightly embarrassing, but Darcy nodded her agreement.
Her escorts were silent as they escorted her back to Avengers Headquarters, although Rogers kept staring at her. It was unnerving. Darcy couldn't shake the feeling that Rogers knew something she didn't, or suspected something, because he was creeping her out as much as Stark had earlier.
Agent Jones peeled off as soon as they were safely inside, but Rogers directed Darcy to Coulson's office. Phil was pacing when they entered.
He looked up. "Miss Lewis, you're on medical leave for the next week." He paused, and seemed to be briefly at a loss for words. "I…I'm sorry."
Darcy was getting really tired of hearing that. "Whatever, Phil. The job environment sucked before I got slammed around. This just confirms my impression. I'm so glad that the heroes are so eager to jump in and rescue people in trouble. I just didn't realize that didn't extend to me. Now I know. But you know what? It's all good. I needed some time off anyhow."
Darcy took off the key that was on the chain around her neck, and placed it on Phil's desk. She pivoted, very carefully, and left Coulson's office. There were a few items she had to pick up from her desk, so she headed that way. The office was very, very quiet as she walked through it.
Darcy collected her things, and shut her computer off. She walked back through the office, noting the wide eyes watching her progress. No one said anything to her though. Darcy didn't care. She had a date with the pharmacy, and then her bed
