Something told Clint that she wasn't going to like the answer to that question. He could only keep them in the air so long, and Hill wasn't going to let her walk without at least a couple tests and an interrogation. But lying would be worse in the long run. Thankfully, he had a plan, someone who could ease her in a bit and help him get some answers before the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. got involved.

"A safehouse in New York. They have doctors there who can do a better job than me." He gestured in the general direction of her arm.

She reacted about as well as he'd expected. It wasn't big. She didn't flip out and try to leap out the window or anything. She just sort of drew into herself, eyes hardening as they dropped to the floor.

"Hey," he said, and he had to swallow when she looked back up.

He cleared his throat. "You hungry?"

The answer was obviously yes. It was more of whether she'd actually take food from him. He could tell that she didn't trust him yet. He didn't blame her. Wound absorption was the kind of power that was easy to take advantage of. She knew she was more useful alive. But maybe, just maybe, not killing her in her sleep would earn him a few brownie points?

Not as many as he would've liked it seemed. She took a long minute to decide, looking beside him instead of at him the whole time. Finally, she pulled her attention back to his face and gave the tiniest nod.

"Okay." He smiled, leaning back to reach his pack out of the cockpit. "Energy bars okay?"

She stared at him.

"Here," he said, handing over a bar and sliding his refilled water bottle within reach on the floor.

She took the food with the tips of her fingers, eyeing the bottle like it was the most delicious looking poison she'd ever seen. Slowly, she reached forward and took that too. His smile widened. There were a million more things he wanted to say and questions he wanted to ask. But at least they were getting somewhere.

"I've got more if you're still hungry. Just ask," he said, shifting back onto his feet.

He didn't miss the instant way she tensed up, eyes flashing to his hands.

Clint sighed. "Get some rest. We'll be there in the morning."

He was climbing back to his seat when he heard the quietest, tiniest, "Thank you."

…

She, of course, didn't sleep. In fact, she barely moved. Every time he went to check on her, her eyes would flick to him, red rimmed around hazel. He could tell that she was hungry, but she didn't ask for any more food. She did accept some water when he refilled the bottle for her, but aspirin was adamantly refused.

You win some, you lose some.

The upstate base being pretty much empty was definitely a win. While it was technically under the S.H.I.E.L.D. umbrella these days, it was mostly a place for Banner to lay low. Which meant a skeleton crew. Usually less. Today was a less kind of day.

Clint took the jet down slow, skimming over the water as he swung into the docking bay. The wheels opened and they rocked to an easy stop.

Banner was ready and waiting for them with his bag in one hand, mop top of salt and pepper hair whipping in their wake. He was wearing a purple button up shirt and a pair of charcoal pants. A stethoscope hung around his neck. His mouth was set with grim patience, a pair of latex gloves already on his hands.

"Okay," said Clint as he unbuckled, "we're here."

Now came the hard part. He wasn't sure if she could actually stand. Between the ankle and that arm… and she definitely wasn't going to be happy about either of them helping her onto her feet.

She coiled into herself like she could read his mind. He crouched on one knee in front of her.

"There's someone waiting to see you, a doctor." Her eyes dulled over, a tiny tremble starting in her shoulders, but he kept going. "His name is Bruce, and he's just going to make sure I haven't screwed you up."

His nervous chuckle was met with a cautious kind of confusion. "He won't do anything you don't want him to."

She didn't look like she believed him, but there was at least some kind of recognition in her eyes.

With a nod, he slipped into the back. A couple button pushes later and the hatch whirred open. Her eyes locked onto Bruce the second the door was down. Banner sucked in a breath at the sight of her, hesitating a moment before he took a single step into the plane. The two men shared a look before Banner swallowed and started forward.

The closer he got, the harder she shook. He stopped just out of arm's reach and lowered himself to the floor.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft and quiet. "Looks like you've had a rough week."

She eyed him like a caged animal, left hand immediately clutching the switch on her neck. Clint's jaw clenched.

Bruce's gaze went to her hand before shifting back up to her face. Her fist tightened and he gave her a little smile. "I'd like to examine you if that's okay?"

Her eyes flicked back to Clint and he was surprised to see her looking for reassurance. Maybe permission? He blinked, nodding, and watched her fingers loosen around the switch.

She gave Bruce a little nod and he gave her one back, already unzipping the bag.

"Thanks. I'm going to shine a light in your eyes. It might be a little bright." He scooted forward, stopping a couple feet from her and lifted the penlight. "Tell me if anything hurts and I'll stop."

Bruce gave her long enough to give him a doubtful look before clicking on the light and lifting it to her right eye. She squinted as he lowered it and shifted it to the other eye.

"Your pupils are dilating like they should. That's good. Can you follow my finger, please?"

He dropped the light back into the bag and held up his right pointer. Her eyes swung around as he moved his hand back and forth.

"Good," he said, tone upbeat and casual.

There was obvious confusion mixing with the fear in her eyes.

Bruce gestured toward her left arm. "Can I look?"

She tensed.

There was a long moment of silence before she croaked out, "Yes."

"Thank you." He nodded, still smiling.

Clint felt his own muscles clench as Bruce eased a gloved hand under the bandage and guided her arm closer to him. Her body leaned away while he untied the gauze, eyes on the floor. She was trembling again, but she didn't flinch out of the doctor's grip.

"That's it. Just have to get this off…"

Banner quirked an eyebrow at the wound as he set the gauze beside his knees. The red tracks were gone and the hole had shrunk to little more than a deep scratch. If Clint hadn't been the one to bandage it up, he never would've guessed that was a stab wound.

"That's not too bad." Bruce turned her arm over with a thumb and forefinger. "I'm just going to tape this on and–there. Good as new."

She had a much smaller bandage on, secured with a couple strips of surgical tape.

Banner tilted his head to peek into the brace on her right arm, keeping his hands hanging off his knees. "Can you move your fingers?"

She grimaced, fingers twitching.

"Hmmm. It's probably broken. We'll have to x-ray to be sure."

After seeing all that black and blue, Clint was positive he didn't need to see an x-ray.

"Clint told me you have a cut on your ankle. Mind if I lift your pant leg to see?"

Her nod came faster this time. The wound wasn't red anymore, but it was still pretty deep. Banner hissed.

"Ouch. Okay, can I have your hand?"

She gave him a puzzled look, but held out her left hand.

"This will help keep it clean." He squeezed a bit of Neosporin into her palm and mimed rubbing it in. She ghosted her fingers over the cut, slathering on the cream, and looked back at him.

"Perfect," he hummed as he reached for a roll of gauze. He rewrapped her ankle with the tips of his fingers, barely touching her at all.

"Alright." Bruce ducked to catch her eye. "Think you can walk?"

She went pale, nodding a bit too quickly. Neither man seemed convinced.

"Okay, then let's get you inside."