"Ungh!" A grunt was heard as the punching bag fell to the ground, three feet away in a jumbled heap. Darcia wiped sweat off her forehead, panting. Hair was falling out of her bun and her face was red from exertion. She long gave up how she looked; they were almost done with her work out (after push-ups and pull-ups and short sprints and lunges and 5-6-5s and 45-lb weights and whatever else they did to make her desperately crave a trip to Calvin) and she was ready to get out of the gym. She had just tackled the punching bags and as she looked up at Steve for reassurance, she knew that they wouldn't have to go into the ring today. A smirk flitted to her face.

"Wow...that was...I didn't expect that..." he had just said, blinking as if he really couldn't believe what happened.

"I have a lot of spare time," was all she replied.

"Right. Well, I guess we can put the equipment away and then you're off until 12:30."

Darcia grinned, glancing to the wall clock. It was 11:23, which mean she had time for a shower before she gorged out on whatever Tony had in his cupboards. "Thank ya, Captain," she said, giving a salut which would've been flattering if she hadn't winked. He blushed slightly, nodding before picking up a bag and moving it to the storage closet. She laughed slightly and helped Steve clean up before rushing up the five flights of stairs (he made her promise to run and not take the elevator since they got off early) to her room. She stripped off her pajamas (they said she didn't need to change for weight lifting, but definitely for sparring. It didn't matter for lab work, though, because she'd have a lab coat on) and threw them in a small basket designated for her laundry. She walked into her add-on bathroom (Tony had remembered her aversions to sharing a bathroom with great sympathy -as he felt the same way, hair dryer issues and all-) and turned on the shower to a scolding heat. She grabbed a towel from the small bathroom closet and set it down on the counter. She turned to the mirror and stared at herself. Her hair was a wreck, falling in her face and sticking out of her bun (which wasn't really a bun anymore, but a half ponytail) and her face was still red, light sweat on her upper lip. Good thing she wasn't wearing makeup. She narrowed her eyes a little bit and pursed her lips before shrugging and stepping into the shower, all of her cares going down the drain.


Ah, the wonders a shower can do. Really, it was Darcia's favorite time of the day; the only time she could massage off the stresses her life came with, the only time she felt she could strip off her sins, her cares, her worries, along with the dead skin. She always felt so renewed after a shower, so full of life and powerful. She was Darcia Grace. She could do or have anything she wanted. Literally. Just a quick phone call and she could have a chocolate fountain made of diamond or Liam Neeson escorting her to the Academy Awards. But when she thought of this, she usually came up with the fact that she really didn't have anything of value. She had no true friends, unless she counted Tony, and her father was gone all the time so she didn't really have a family. Oh, except for Jameson. By God, did she love that man. Love. This also was something she didn't like to think about.

She could never have a real stable relationship with a man because of who she was. Sure, she's dated plenty of guys and has had multiple one night stands, but she hasn't really felt anything. Torres, as she told Tony, was a whiny, needy baby, Tony was far too much like her (really, you have sex with the man once and it's good to last a life time, she thought every time that experience came up), and all of the actors just want publicity. Singers were no better, though she did have a good long term relationship with Adam Levine before he met his Russian beauty (even though she heard that they recently broke up), she didn't dig the whole "I'm going to write down everything that happens to us and it's going to be a huge hit" thing. And she didn't like all of the "attention-whore-cocky-I've-got-it-all" attitudes that came with the famous. She needed a normal, humble man who didn't care for attention or publicity or money. She needed Bruce.

She shook her head quickly as she finished making her lunch and sat down at the island. Everyone was off doing their own thing and it was nice to be alone every once in awhile, though she couldn't see how someone could do it for long periods of time. Bruce flashed to her mind, but she pushed it away and started eating her sandwich, thinking about trivial things that really didn't matter. I wonder if I'll get time off tomorrow. I really do want to hit up that private sale. I have nothing to wear to the gala next month. Which reminds me, note to self: find a date. Someone not alarmingly boring. An appreciator of the arts, perhaps. "Hm," she mused to herself, eating absentmindedly. Maybe it's that time of year when Tony and I make an appearance. She made a face. No. Not after this whole ordeal. I'd want time alone. He really gets annoying...which means I do too. She shrugged to herself. Then who else? Probably no one from sports. Don't want to go down that alley again. A politician? Nah. How about a nobody? A smile came to her face. That was an idea. Give someone the night of their lives, maybe one of those kids that post videos on youtube asking her to prom, or a scientist that hides in Asian countries for months at a time, desperate to get away from human contact. She didn't even realize she was thinking about Bruce.

"You have quite the array of facial expressions," a voice said, interrupting her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Bruce sitting down across from her, a sandwich on his plate.

"How long have you been watching me?" Darcia asked, a smirk coming to her face. She reached up to take a bite of her sandwich but realized that it was gone. She frowned and settled with eating a chip from her plate.

"I-I wouldn't call it watching, exactly," he replied, blushing. She raised an eyebrow. "It...sounds bad, but really, I was just getting something to eat and I noticed you having another inner battle."

It sounded like he was teasing her. She almost grinned at the thought. "Of course," she said instead, smoothly. "How's lab work going?"

He swallowed what he was chewing and nodded. "Good, though I'm stuck at this one part with Thor's blood particles. It seems as if the cells are fighting whatever I try to do to them. They're like, indestructible or something. It's crazy," he shook his head, taking another bite.

This time, Darcia allowed herself to grin. He was so...sexy when he spoke about something he was passionate about. "Almost like he was a God," she put in, raising an eyebrow before laughing. Bruce, miraculously, laughed too.

"Yeah, almost."

They settled into a peaceful silence and it made her think what it would be like to just sit next to him, reading, tucked away in her Canadian log house, away from everyone. They would have dogs, big dogs that would lay in front of the fire while it snowed outside, soft music coming from a radio across the room, and they would hold hands while in their own worlds. That would be heaven right now. No worries about money or war or business or benefits or charities, just simple life. She wondered what it would be like to live a simple, non-existent life. A normal one. She'd never get that...but maybe it could be somewhat possible with the doctor beside her?

"You're, uh doing it again," Bruce mused, picking at his crust. He was looking at his plate, the small smile on his face.

"You do it all the time," she whispered to herself, glad that Bruce didn't hear it. "I guess you could call it a fault. I'm an open book."

"I wouldn't call that a fault," was his reply. She didn't argue with him and they settled into another silence before an alarm went off. Bruce jumped, clearly not expecting the sound. It was coming from his watch and he silenced it quickly. "If you'll, er, excuse me," he said, standing up and rushing out of the room. She sat there confused for all but five seconds before she followed him as quietly and quickly as possible. She turned into a hallway just as she saw him enter a room (which she assumed was his bedroom). He shut the door behind him, though not hard enough to close it all the way. When she reached the door, she pushed it wide enough to look in. He was across the plain room, by a neat bed and digging through a drawer in his bedside table. His hand stalled over something, to which he ran his finger over before moving his attention to the thing he was looking for. He pulled out a bottle and read the label before opening the cap and pouring some of the contents on his palm. Pills. He looked at them hesitantly before popping a few into his mouth, using a glass of water on the table to help them down.

She frowned, thinking of what to do. She could either walk in and demand what he's doing (though it's not her place) or walk away and pretend she never saw anything. But as she did think before, it's not her place. She unwillingly left his doorway and walked back into the kitchen, looking at his plate of food. It was hardly eaten, most of the sandwich still there, with pieces of bread picked and dropped on the plate. She frowned again and cleaned up her lunch before debating on what to do with his plate. He still hadn't come out yet and she doubt he was going to finish his meal. She picked up his plate and threw away the contents before putting it in the sink, with hers and the breakfast dishes. She lingered over the sink, hands clenched on the counter, head dropped. "There you are, Darcia! Come on, it's time for practice."

She turned around, a smile placed on her face at the sight of the archer. "Sorry, got carried away. Let's do this! My muscles already ache so it'll be fun."

Clint laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders and steering her towards the staircase. "Thatta girl."

She gave a small laugh, eyes flitting towards the hallway Bruce's room was located down. Her laugh stopped shortly, the smile slowly fading from her face when she caught Bruce's eye, who was hovering by the arch of the hallway. They just stared at each other, silently, judging. She looked away first, turning her attention to Clint. "What? No elevator again?"

"No way, Grace. You're not getting off that easy."


(A/N: Well there ya go. I really like this chapter...it might actually be my favorite. But we'll see. I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did writing. I still have a load of homework but I just got accepted into my transfer college so I don't really care anymore, haha. MORE BRUCE BANNER! LESS FRENCH DIALOGUE! AmIRite? (; Anyway, the usual stuff: let me know what you think and/or what you want to see and I'll make it happen. You guys are my little writing angels. You sit on my shoulders and all. The little devil is my responsibility. So far you're winning. haha)