Word spread quickly through Stark Tower that Bruce had gone, and reactions were swift. Tony swore and immediately began hacking SHIELD's networks. Steve could be heard yelling at Fury and Agent Sitwell over the phone in the next room. Jane appeared with a box of chocolates and a dartboard. Clint gave Darcy a hug before he and Natasha disappeared to call in favors with shady contacts. Thor made omelets and bad jokes.

Then Darcy remembered something. "Jane, I can see a little bit."

Everyone froze. Then everyone exploded.

"What?!"

"When?"

"Why didn't you lead off with that?" Stark mumbled. "Remember what we taught you about prioritizing?" Darcy bit back a comment about Stark's ideas of priorities being Science! and boobs.

"When?"

"We'll just get Dr. . ." Steve broke off, remembering that Dr. Banner would not, in fact, be able to look at her eyes, but recovered quickly. "Dr. Standish to look at it."

Twenty minutes later, Darcy, Jane, Steve and Thor were in a big black SUV headed towards SHIELD headquarters. Darcy concentrated on the patches of vision at the corners of her eyes.

"Jane, your shirt's a very nice shade of purple," she said, breaking the silence of the car. Jane beamed at her.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said proudly. Darcy didn't tell her how long it had taken to work out that Jane was, in fact wearing a shirt that was purple, but Jane's happiness was worth the omission. The only damper to her rising hope was the fact that Bruce wasn't there to share.

Dr. Standish examined her eyes and pronounced that indeed, Darcy was a very lucky woman to have her sight coming back.

Natasha and Clint made a spectacular celebratory dinner of lasagna that night, Darcy's favorite, and the team made a valiant effort to be cheerful. Bruce's absence was glaringly obvious despite their best efforts. Even Darcy only slipped up once.

"Hey Bruce," she began, turning with a grin to his normal spot at the table. The smile fell off her face as she remembered that he wasn't there.

"So, um, anyone excited to see Skyfall?" Jane asked, sounding the tiniest bit desperate. Immediately, Natasha and Clint scoffed, beginning a dialogue about the many cinematic faults of James Bond.

"You know," Tony said thoughtfully, "I could screen it tonight."

"Don't be silly Tony," Jane laughed, "It comes out tonight."

Tony leveled an even stare at her across the table.

"Right," Jane muttered, a slight look of awe coming across her face. "Does this mean you could stream Breaking Dawn Part 2 early for me?"

"JANE ELIZABETH FOSTER!" Darcy facepalmed. "How could you ask such a thing? Such clichéd second rate cinematography does not have a place on Tony's amazing screens!"

"Yeah!" Tony seconded. "What Small Fry says!" There was a small scuffle, and Tony yelped. "Okay, okay! I was backing you up. Ow! Fine! Big Kahuna? No! Her Majesty the Princess Darcy?"

"Better," Darcy huffed, leaning back in her seat.

Thor and Steve exchanged mystified glances at the antics of the rest of the team.

That night, Clint made large batches of popcorn, and the Avengers plus Jane, Darcy, and Pepper and minus one Bruce Banner settled in to watch Skyfall.

Darcy tried to forget about him. Really, she did. She inserted herself into her usual banter with Stark and Clint, she teased Jane about her fun time with Thor, to which Jane blushed and Thor preened, and she even took on the task of explaining to Steve the function of Twitter. Which failed, but hey, at least she tried. None of it worked. The entire time, the annoying voice in the back of her head chimed in how Bruce would understand, how Bruce would back her up, how Bruce would laugh along with her. Most of all, it hurt after the movie when everyone else began dispersing in couples. And Darcy had no one.

The way back to her room was dark, and Darcy wanted to cry again.

"Damn it, Bruce," she muttered angrily, swiping impatiently at the tears beginning to trip down her nose. "Damn you fifteen ways to hell."

Darcy got little sleep that night, waking every few hours tangled in her sheets, gasping for breath. Her chest ached, her head hurt, and she was tired of crying. Finally around midnight, she gave up on sleep and began wandering the halls of Stark Tower. It was dark, and the monsters followed her, creeping around corners and staring from under furniture. Darcy swallowed a yelp as she whirled. But nothing was there.

She found herself in front of the gym. Inside she could make out the faint yellow glow of light, and the rhythmic thuds and heavy breathing of a man venting to a punching bag.

"Hey, Cap."

"Hey Darcy."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither."

There were a few more jabs before he spoke again.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault." Darcy was getting tired of that phrase. It was never anyone's fault. It was always her job to reassure people of that. To lie. To sooth ruffled feathers. "Tape my hands."

Steve didn't question; he just did. Twenty minutes later, Darcy was lined up with the bag, Steve's instructions guiding her.

"Lean left a little. You want a good balance. Jab right, underhand left. " But after a while, he fell silent, watching her take the mickey out of the bag.

"Useless," Darcy muttered, jabbing and swinging. "Waltzing in and out. Thinking you're broken." Her stream of insults at the bag continued, and it swung obligingly in and out of reach as she pummeled it until she finally sank down, exhausted. Steve rushed forward to steady the bag, then lowered himself down next to her.

"Feel better?"

"Much," she admitted.

"It helps," he told her. "Most of the time, I'm down here practicing to stop thinking of Bucky and Peggy and everyone else I left behind." Steve sighed. "Sometimes I really wish I could just get drunk like normal people."

Steve's joke took Darcy by surprise, and she choked on a snort. "Steve Rodgers," she said delightedly, "you have a sense of humor!"

"Shhh. Don't tell Stark," Steve deadpanned, and Darcy laughed so hard tears streamed from the corner of her eyes. Steve chuckled a bit, mostly at her amusement.

"Thank you," she said finally. What she meant is thank you for listening, for not needing to listen, for letting me hit something, for making me laugh, for being there.

"Thank you," she said, and he must have understood some of that, because he smiled softly.

"You're welcome."