The idea of either of their hands around her sent her stomach churning. So, naturally, Alex grabbed the chair on her left and dragged herself onto her feet. A jolt of pain sent sweat pricking across her forehead. Her stomach clenched, white sparks swarming in front of her. She swayed on her feet and a hand came towards her stomach.

Her eyes flashed to Bruce and she shrank back against the chair. "No."

He froze mid-reach, watching her in a way that made Alex feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. Clint was still by the back door of the jet, his fingers sliding over his thumbs. The way his legs tensed told her he was holding himself in place.

She took a deep breath, jamming her fingers into the framework of the chair.

"I can do it." Her voice was a lot shakier than she meant it to be but it wasn't as bad as the earthquake rocking inside.

The second she leaned off the chair, her ankle buckled. Bruce caught her, wincing when the fingers of her left hand dug into his sleeve.

"I got you," he grunted. "Just go slow."

Slow was not the word her brain was shouting. Run! Punch! Bite! It took everything she had to keep her mind skating above the electric sheet of panic threatening to crack open and swallow her.

"Ready?" Bruce shifted slowly until one hand was hooked around her waist with the other one under her left elbow.

Alex hissed in through gritted teeth. Calm down, she told herself. Don't change. Not here. That was a good way to get herself collared or shot. Possibly both. The weird scent on Bruce wasn't helping: a singe of anger so ingrained in his skin it was almost impossible to separate from the scent of coffee and lab chemicals.

Clint moved back to let them through and Alex tried to put all her energy into setting her feet on the floor. Toe-heel. Toe-heel. Toe-slip.

Bruce pulled her back up. "You okay?"

"Mhm," she hummed through a haze of pain and nausea.

But she didn't look up to see if he believed her. It didn't seem possible he would. After what felt like a million miles of corridor, they reached an elevator. Ding. And Bruce guided her in. Clint followed behind, exchanging looks with Bruce that she was suddenly way too tired to care about.

The floor of the elevator lurched to a stop and she clenched her jaw against the jarring pulse in her right arm.

"Almost there," Bruce assured, and then they were walking again.

He brought her to a small, dimly lit room with a single twin-sized bed. There was an icy edge to the air. Somewhere, from the deep corners of her mind she pulled a memory. A hospital. 3AM. The emergency department. She sat there in a chair, staring at a single spot of blood on the green tile. It was freezing.

She was dimly aware of Clint moving around them to pull the covers back.

"There you go." Bruce lowered her onto the bed and she just barely managed to stay sitting up.

With a mechanical grind, the top of the bed lifted up and he set a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Lay down." His voice was soft, gentle, but she couldn't have resisted if she wanted.

She felt herself sink into a pillow for the first time in more years than she dared to count. How was she this tired?

"Can I get you anything? Water?"

She shook her head. Everything was so heavy.

Bruce nodded, pulling the blanket up around her. "Get some rest. I'll come get you for an x-ray in a little bit. We can wheel you right into the elevator, so you won't have to get up."

She nodded, swallowing.

And the door latched softly behind them.

Alex faded in and out of consciousness for who knew how long. This was a dream, right? None of this could be real. Good things just didn't happen to her anymore and this definitely felt like a good thing. Her mind sank into the pillow as the blue-gray ceiling turned green. A single spot of blood bloomed at the center, growing bigger and bigger until everything above her was dripping red. A ripple started in the puddle and the next thing she knew she was in the ring, facing Magnum.

He charged with a snarl and she dodged left, snapping her jaws around his throat. He threw himself backwards into a sea of red. Down, down, down they went. She held on, his heartbeat pounding against her teeth. Blood choked the back of her throat–drip… drip… drip onto the green tile floor.

"No, no, no, no, no. Mom! Nurse! I need help!"

She tried to hold her mother's hand, but she couldn't get her paw to wrap through the fingers. Magnum's jaws cracked open and blood poured out with a bubbling laughter. Her jaws tightened.

"Let go," Magnum said.

But it wasn't Magnum's voice.

"It's okay, let go."

Her eyes flew open to a darkened room, breath coming in heavy gasps. She blinked the world back into focus. Bruce was leaning away from the bed, one arm gripped in her left hand. Gloved fingers were wrapped around her wrist. His eyes had a weird green edge to them. Had they been green before?

She glanced down at the IV line now sticking out of her arm and pried her fingers loose.

He yanked back, rubbing the skin where she'd dug in. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

She cleared her throat.

"You ready for an x-ray?" He asked, tucking a vile of red into the front pocket of his lab coat.

Alex stared at that pocket and he ducked his head, fingers twining together.

"Y-yeah," she said, searching the room. But there was no Magnum anywhere.

Her arm was, indeed, broken.

"I don't think you'll need surgery," Bruce said, gently lifting the limb to examine the bite marks.

Alex grit her teeth.

"But we might need to wait until some of these close before we cast it. Animal bites can be tricky."

She winced.

"It looks better," Clint said.

He was flopped in the chair beside her bed in the exam room, dark circles under his eyes. Bruce turned to him and nodded.

"Well, the wound on your left arm is gone." Bruce tilted his head toward her left arm.

Alex stiffened.

"You heal fast."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway.

"Good." He nodded back. "How long is your guess for this?"

She swallowed. How much of this should she really tell them? It didn't matter. They'd find out anyway.

"A couple days."

Clint clenched the arm of the chair beside her, offering a quick smile when her eyes snapped to him. The smell of fresh soap and water rolled off his skin.

"You sure?" Bruce asked.

She nodded. "It's happened before."

A weird sort of look rolled through Bruce's eyes. Like thunder behind a curtain. "Okay. We'll wait then."

Clint wheeled her back down the hall, into the elevator, and one floor down to the same room as before. He set a glass of water on the table to her left and sank into one of the chairs.

"Mind if I stay a little bit?"

Cautiously, she nodded.

Clint nodded back, closing his eyes.

She watched him for a bit, but he didn't move or talk or even open his eyes to look in her direction. Her attention drifted back to her arm. It was rewrapped in a new brace with fresh gauze and blue compression tape this time. The IV was still in her left. Bruce had offered her something for the pain, but there was no way in hell she was going to be out of it around them.

Soft snores picked up from the chair beside her. She frowned, twisting her head to watch the shallow rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat was slow, even.

Alex blinked, her eyes getting heavier and heavier.