CHAPTER ELEVEN

They all sat in the small waiting area of the SHIELD medical facility. Well, Darcy sat, frozen, clutching Jane's hand like a vice. Thor stood behind them, almost twitching with pent up energy. Clint was pacing back and forth in front of Natasha who stood in unnatural stillness. Tony and Pepper sat together. Tony looked almost relaxed, but she could see how his hand gripped Pepper's knee every so often and how her hand was pressed against his back.

Steve walked back in, he had been on the phone in the lobby.

"Your girl OK?" asked Clint as Steve collapsed into a chair.

"Yeah," he said, "She said Darcy, Jane and Pepper got everyone into the basement. No one was hurt." He looked at the three women with gratitude.

"Then what were you doing on the street," Natasha looked at Darcy sharply.

"There were some kids caught outside," she replied a bit absently, too internally focused to engage.

"She was incredible," said Pepper, "she took down one of those things, hopped on its horse, and faced down three more of them to get the kids to safety."

"It was my fault," Darcy whispered, "I should have charged them, or been faster…" all she could see was the crater in the street, and Bruce lying there, her ears ringing. "He jumped in front of a missile. Who does that?" Everything just seemed a few steps away from reality. This couldn't be the real world.

"He is a Hero," said Thor simply, "in either of his aspects."

"and," said Steve, "when the people you care about are in danger, taking a missile to the chest can be the better option sometimes."

"You don't get to claim this one," said Tony gruffly, "You and Bruce are both heroes today."

The door opened, and all of them turned their attention to Cheryl with an almost audible crack.

Wisely, she opened with, "He's stable." Darcy could hear the 'but' coming a mile away.

"But his condition is still critical. The internal damage was severe and we've repaired it as best we can. Right now, we're just waiting for him to wake up. He has shown accelerated healing in the past, but that's connected to the Hulk and it's a function of his conscious mind. If he wakes up, he should be able to make a full recovery."

"If?" Jane choked out

Cheryl paused, "there is a possibility that the damage is too severe. The next 24 hours are the most critical. We'll let you know the minute we know more. But sometimes it helps to talk to the patient, in situations like this."

Darcy latched onto this, desperate for something useful to do, feeling the knot of tension in her chest building, threatening to cut off her air.

The others came and went, but Darcy stayed, her hand covering his, just watching his chest rise and fall. In the end, she couldn't bring herself to speak, because saying what she wanted to say would feel too much like saying goodbye.

It was late the following night, and Darcy was alone with Bruce, exhausted and unwilling to close her eyes, when his fingers twitched under hers.

"Bruce?" her voice was no more than a whisper. His fingers gripped hers and his eyes fluttered.

"Darcy," his voice was thick and gravelly, but he was looking at her he was alive.

She realised belatedly, that she was hyperventilating, the knot of tension inside her uncoiling bit by painful bit. And Bruce, even on death's doorstep, went into doctor mode.

"Hey, it's OK Darcy, its ok." He grasped her hand firmly and tugged her towards him. "Get up here, and just lie down, face on the pillow. Long slow breaths. It's ok."

She lay there, side pressed up against his, his hand calming against the back of her head, pulling herself back together.

"Are you ok?" Bruce said eventually.

Darcy let out a hiccupping laugh. "Am I ok? Bruce, you jumped in front of a missile and you're asking me if I'm ok?" her voice was muffled in the pillow.

"You know, I do vaguely recall that," said Bruce carefully, "Were you…were you on a horse?"

"Yeah," she said, turning her head to look at him. Their faces were very close. "And now that's the second time the big guy has saved my life."

Bruce's expression was halfway between a smile and a grimace, but he said, "That's two you owe me, junior," in a convincingly light tone.

She smiled gently, turning on her side and pulling close to him, because she was too exhausted and wrung out to pretend she didn't want to. He slid his arm under her head.

"Is this OK?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," said Bruce, his fingers running odd little patterns against her shoulder, "this is good."

"Don't you ever do anything like that to me again, ok?" She whispered into his chest.

"Ok," he said, a little sadly, because they both knew it was a promise he couldn't really keep.

And Darcy didn't know if he just needed the physical comfort of a friend after what he'd been through, or if there was something deeper there, but she didn't care right now, because he was there, warm and breathing next to her, and his hand was strong against her skin, and she let herself fall asleep.

When she woke up, she was still curled warmly against Bruce's side, her head low on his chest. He was sitting, propped against the back of the bed, a hand resting on her head as he spoke softly to a doctor.

The fact that she was twined around Bruce like a vine on a tree in front of other SHEILD personnel permeated her sleep fogged brain and she jerked upright.

"Hey," said Bruce with a soft little smile.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, trying to dig herself out from under the blankets without jarring Bruce, "I was just so tired."

"Well, it certainly hasn't hurt Dr. Banner," said the doctor, "I was just telling him that he has made huge strides overnight."

"Really?" all embarrassment forgotten, "He's going to be ok?"

"Yes Ms. Lewis, he's going to be just fine." The doctor smiled and went on with his rounds, leaving Darcy alone. In bed. With Bruce. She didn't know what to do with her hands.

"Jane brought you a change of clothes," Bruce said after a moment, "if you want to…" he gestured at her ruined New Year's dress.

"Oh," it occurred to her that any number of people probably dropped by to check on Bruce and saw her basically drooling on him, "I probably look like a wreck." She felt self-conscious, awkward, and completely off balance.

"You look perfect to me," said Bruce calmly, like it wasn't one of the most perfectly wonderful things anyone had ever said to her. She felt a flush warm her cheeks as she ducked into the bathroom.

Jane had brought her comfortable clothes, leggings and a long top, fluffy socks, her favorite sweater. It made her feel a little more solid to take off the dress, pull her tangled hair back, coming back to herself. She washed her face and stood there for a moment, looking in the mirror.

And then she smiled. Bruce was going to be fine, and he thought she looked perfect. Who gave a shit who saw her wrapped around him if it was leading somewhere, and it felt like it was leading somewhere, it felt like there had been a shift somewhere, and maybe they finally had a shot at figuring this out instead of just dancing around each other.

When she exited the bathroom, Bruce had located the remote. He looked up at her with a blinding smile. "There's a bond move marathon on," he said, gesturing at the other side of the bed. "You in?"

"Yeah," she let out her breath, "I'm in."

She spent a large part of the next few days hip to hip with Bruce, watching movies, reading, playing video games, talking for hours about nothing.

Nothing much changed when he was released from the hospital. Tony insisted that he couldn't convalesce alone out in the woods and he was firmly ensconced in the room next to Darcy's. The workload in the lab was minimal without Bruce there, so Darcy only went in every now and again, and there wasn't much going on in the analyst pool since it became clear that whoever took over the General's operation was a complete amateur. She hoped it was Jim.

She was more often than not falling asleep next to him, spending her days with him, and growing more and more frustrated in more than one way.

As much as they had never really touched before, there had been a chemical shift, and he almost constantly had a hand in her hair or an arm around her shoulder, setting her skin tingling and a growing heat building in her gut.

She lay awake next to him at night, listening to his slow, even breath, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her back.

She could feel the curious eyes of her housemates watching them together until she wanted to scream that nothing was happening.

She didn't know what to think. How could he stand this holding pattern if he was feeling the same things she was? What did he think they were doing here? Was this just a comfort thing for him? Had he gone so long without physical contact that he was just desperate to have her physically there but nothing more? That though made her a little sad, but also angry, because couldn't he see what it was doing to her?

She was working out her aggression on a punching bag in the gym when Clint found her one afternoon.

"What's with all the nervous energy kid?" he asked when she paused, tossing her a towel. "I thought you'd found a more entertaining way to work it off." He waggled his eyebrows.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" said Darcy tightly.

"Wait, you and Bruce aren't..?" Clint trailed off indelicately.

"Nope," she said, "Not even a little bit."

"Well that's just…weird." Said Clint, "Why?"

"Because," said Darcy, "He hasn't made a move and I find him impossible to read."

"Well," said Clint, "and I can't believe I am saying this, but have you ever thought that maybe you should just jump him?"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not sure that launching myself at Bruce is the answer."

"Darce, you have to confront this," he said in a more serious tone. "Because this weird stand-off you two have going on right now can't last forever. It's going to blow up in your face, and it could really hurt the team." He looked apologetic but firm.

She sighed, "I know. I will, ok?"

It turned out that it was a bit of a moot point, because confrontation was waiting for her anyways. She walked into his room and found him staring out the window, arms crossed, looking tense.

"Hey," she said cautiously. "Everything Ok?" She could see he was holding a folder.

"I had a meeting with Hill today," he said. She hadn't even known that he had left.

"Oh?" he sounded a bit dire.

He wordlessly handed the folder to her. It was surveillance photos. Most of them were of Bruce, but she showed up a lot as well. There was a few from some of the runs they had been on outside of the SHEILD facilities, and many more recent photos of going for coffee near the tower, and dancing together at new year's.

"Are these from the General's operation?" she asked. Why hadn't she been notified?

"Different General," said Bruce tightly, "someone who's got a real problem with the Hulk."

"Well I quite like this one from New Years," she tried for a light tone, "I look pretty good."

"Darcy," Bruce was clearly not in a joking mood. "I've been spending too much time with you if he's drawing a connection. It's too dangerous."

"Too dangerous for who Bruce," she could hear the steely note in her own voice.

"Darcy, please just…" Bruce started.

"No," she almost shouted. "No I wont just, Bruce," and it was like a floodgate had broken loose.

"This is bullshit," she said crossing her arms, "You can't just brush this aside like it's nothing. Whatever the hell is going on between us, it is not nothing Bruce, and I can't handle this anymore."

She took a breath; Bruce was looking at her, stunned. He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but Darcy wasn't done.

"I can't lie next you, and have you around all day, and have you touching me without wanting more. And I can't go another day without telling you that you are all I think about, and you have filled up my world so completely, that it's hard to breathe. I don't know what this is for you, whether it's just comfort, or convenience, but I have to know, because having you so close, but not having you is killing me." She felt a bit like she had run a marathon, breathing heavily, just staring at him across the empty space that separated them.

"Comfort?" said Bruce in a disbelieving voice, "Convenience? How can you possibly think that's all this is for me?"

She just looked at him, waiting for him to make his move, because his tone didn't sound all that encouraging, and Darcy had already put her whole heart on the table.

"Darcy," he ran a hand through his hair, "If I had believed for a second that you might feel…Christ." He turned, slamming the flats of his hands against the wall and resting his forehead against the smooth surface. "I was being stupid, and selfish, and I never should have let it get this far."

"Let what get this far," said Darcy, her throat thick with unshed tears.

"You have to know," he paused, turning to her, "you have to know that you are just…god, I am crazy about you Darcy."

"Then what is the problem." She was in flux, too much coming at her at once. She wanted to scream or cry or throw herself at him.

"I thought maybe I could…but I can't Darcy, I can't. I'm too dangerous. I'm not… there are people out there who want to get to me. And after Hill talked to me today…and I've already put you in danger, just by spending so much time with you. If they ever knew how I felt…Darcy, the Hulk is dangerous. In so many ways. I'm dangerous. And I won't…I refuse to bring you into that. I promised you Darcy, I promised you that I would protect you." And she could hear in his voice that this was cutting him to the bone, and that he really thought that this was the best thing he could do for her, but she didn't care, because all that was really getting through at the core of it was that he was pushing her away.

"You know," said Darcy in the calmest voice she could manage, "You're so concerned about the harm the Hulk will do. But the other guy keeps saving my life Bruce. You're the one who's hurting me."

And she walked out of the room.

The first thing she did was storm over to SHEILD and into Hill's office without even stopping at her assistant's protest.

"What did you say to Bruce," said Darcy, hands on Hill's desk, staring her down.

Hill looked her up and down, and then responded directly. "I told him that he was painting a target on you, that it was too easy to see that you could be used against him."

"I've been wearing a target for a long time now," Darcy hurled the words at her, "Did you ever think that maybe this was a target I would choose?"

Hill nodded, "I did. But it's my job to give my team the best information I can." She looked almost sympathetic. "And Bruce, like all the best men I have known, will always put the welfare of the people he loves above his own. I just gave him the information Lewis, he made the call."

She tore through her office, pulling her spare running gear out of her desk. She went out behind the building and she ran. She ran until she was sick, she ran until she had nothing left in her.

When she dragged herself back to the tower, Bruce's room was empty, his things moved. Darcy collapsed into bed without undressing. As tired as she was, she didn't fall asleep for a long time.

Clint and Natasha were quietly talking over coffee when she walked into the kitchen the next morning. They looked up at her with concern.

"How are you kid?" he asked, pulling out a chair for her.

"So, you know?" It wasn't really a question.

"Bruce told everyone," said Natasha. Darcy dropped her head in her hands. "He was quite concerned about the team dynamic. It was all very discrete, he's trying to make himself the bad guy."

"Plus," said Clint, "Your voice really carries when you're ranting."

"I'm so sorry," said Darcy into her hands, "god, I've made such a mess."

"You and Bruce are both idiots," Clint agreed calmly, "but he's taking the heat on this one for trying to decide what risks you can and can't take."

"He is just trying to protect her," Natasha started to say, but cut herself off, as if they'd already rehashed this.

"I think I just need some air," said Darcy, "and some time to think."

She needed to figure out how she was going to fix this, because regardless of the train wreck that was her and Bruce, the team was more important.

She showered and got dressed, unable to even think about food, and started wandering around the byways and back streets of Manhattan.

That was stupid. She should have stuck to busy areas, she shouldn't have wandered into side streets, she should have been aware of her surroundings and not sunk so far in misery.

Because it turns out that abductions, like all bad things, came in threes.

At least this time Darcy put up a good fight, but even with how far she had come, unarmed and taken by surprise, the four men sent after her eventually held her down, stabbed her in the arm with a syringe, and she just faded out.