"Three days and we still know nothing!"

Tony wasn't normally the most patient of men, and he was even worse for wear because he had nothing else to do but snark at everyone around him. Cut off from the tower, his lab, and Jarvis, he was reduced to using an inexpensive laptop, leeching off free Wi-Fi from the coffee shop downstairs. Burn phones and re-routed emails aside, the low tech options were driving Tony crazy. He slammed the top closed on the computer and stalked over to the makeshift bar to pour himself another jigger of Scotch.

"We're doing the best that we can, Tony," Steve said from his seat on the couch. "Fury's working through channels, and we've got everyone looking for Bruce and Natasha." Nothing Steve said registered with Tony; the team was falling apart, there were too many missing pieces, and he was cooped up here, unable to do anything useful. With so many of them scattered to the winds, Tony's worry took the form of excessive pacing and complaining, all of which Steve managed to handle calmly. Ironically, two of them had ended up here, together, in the small apartment that Pepper had bought as part of a contingency plan for just such a situation. The cabinets were loaded with food, money and passports were stashed in a safe, and all the comforts of home were provided for, but the intimacy of the situation only added to Tony's frustrations.

"Well, our best isn't good enough, damn it." He tossed the alcohol back his throat and sat the glass down with a thump. Staring out the window to the New York street below, Tony rested his forearm on the cool pane, misted with the steady rain outside, the weather an echo of his mood. Steve stood and walked over to him, hesitating just when he was close enough that Tony could feel the warmth of his body. "I'm completely grounded and cut off here. How the hell are they tracking the suit? Damn it, I'm as good as useless."

Leaning in, Steve's voice sent his breath across Tony's ear, stirring his hair. "You are far from useless. Without you, we wouldn't have this place or money to pay the doctor or a way to contact Fury. That's important." For a second, their reflection in the foggy glass was more like lovers than friends, Steve's golden hair close to Tony's brown.

"That was Pepper. I'd give her a raise, but it would go to her head." Tony turned his distain upon himself, a target he was intimately familiar with. "I am useless without the suit and my tech."

"Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, playboy?" Steve teased, his easy smile evident in the glass.

"Well, yes, I am all those things, but …" Tony's mouth quirked up at the edges, and he started to turn.

"Any news?" Clint was barely upright, holding on to the doorframe, face pale, dark shadows under his eyes.

"You shouldn't be up yet," Steve practically ordered. "You'll rip out those stitches. At least sit down before you fall down." He helped Clint slowly settle onto the couch. "You need to be healing, so when we do find him, you can be mobile enough to help."

Clint offered Steve a ghost of a smile. "Never did say thanks for the emergency aid, Cap. The doctor said I wouldn't have made it without what you did."

As always, Steve shrugged off any praise or accolades. "Thank Natasha for getting that surgeon so fast. If we had gone to an ER, they'd have found us for sure."

Clint was in pain, but none of that mattered over his worry for Bruce. "Truth is, if the Big Guy hadn't warned me, I'd be dead." He remembered it clearly, the look on the Hulk's face as he'd turned, the pain mixed with warning. "Any word from Tasha?"

"Nothing. She rabbited as soon as you were in surgery." Tony's voice was hard. "At least Thor told us he was going back to Asgard to find out what Heimdall can see."

"She's got connections everywhere. If anyone on Earth can find him, she can." Clint would have sounded certain except for his thready voice; sweat beaded on his forehead. "It was some kind of injection. That's twice now someone's taken the Big Guy out of action. Doom had that fucking gun and now these guys have some sort of drug."

"Could they be connected?" Steve asked. Tony shrugged, but let the question roll in his mind, entering it as if it were a program to be run.

"We think Doom's gun had something to do with serotonin levels, boosting them for a euphoria that would negate the Hulk's anger. Gamma aminobutyric acid might be in play too; a shot of GABA is like a massive dose of Valium. We could probably isolate which could be injected and that fast acting. If I hack into the CDC database …" Tony opened the laptop, drumming his fingers on the desk as he waited for it to boot up.

"Can we track back the parts and components they'd need to make a serum that would affect him?" Clint sagged against the pillows, trying to get comfortable.

"For god's sake, at least lay down." Tony growled. "And take the damn pill for the pain." He stalked over to the television and turned it on, surfing through the channels until he found a cheesy sci-fi movie about shark attacks on the Jersey shore. "You're better company when you're hyped up on meds." Turning back to the screen, Tony smiled, happier now with a problem to solve and an alive-and-on-the-mend Clint to badger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yet another technician was drawing blood, taking his vitals; the room had been a revolving door of doctors and nurses, faces a medicated blur. After exhausting himself trying to build up a rage, and a few more injections of the mystery drug that left him groggy and weak, Bruce had given up and tried to approach the situation like a science problem. Running hypothesis after hypothesis, the careful methodology kept him calm and gave his mind something to do besides obsess over things he didn't know. He'd arrived at a number of conclusions by logically attacking the information he had available, but he was still missing some key variables.

"You're calm today, Dr. Banner," the tech said, and Bruce looked up. She was wearing the standard white lab coat and yellow badge, but tattoos showed on her neck and forearms. A colorful rose wrapped around her wrist, and a celtic design scrolled down from her ear to disappear beneath her collar. Long, black hair was pulled neatly back from her face, and her dark brown eyes seemed kind. Right, Bruce thought, she was the nice one who took pains to not hurt him, and she liked to chat. His mind was clearer without the medicine in his system, he thought, as she checked his monitor bracelet. "That's good. You haven't used the inhibitor since late yesterday. I'll fill it up, just in case, but I hope you don't use it anymore. You're kind of cute, and, trust me, the dating scene around here is a wasteland. I'm hoping you're out of here soon so I can buy you a drink." She leaned close to him, opening the small port and dispensing the liquid in the needle quickly and efficiently into each bracelet; the other guy stirred faintly, taking in her scent.

"I'm afraid I'm not your type," Bruce said, not looking at her face for fear of giving his surging emotions away, thinking instead about keeping his breathing even and the monitors in the green.

"Well, damn. That's my luck, though," she laughed as she carefully packed up her tray and prepared to leave. "Probably got some boyfriend already, pining away for you, huh? Hope he knows how lucky he is. Guess I'm still flying solo for a while." Turning to go, he caught another tattoo on the back of her calf, peeking below her black skirt. He closed his eyes quickly, keeping his head down even after she left. His heart rate jumped; the hiss of the medicine dispersal sounded, but none of the numbness or pain followed as the seconds ticked by. With effort, he brought his vitals back to normal through sheer will, letting the image of the hawk on Natasha's skin burn into his retinas as the other guy started to stir.

It was just a matter of time, and the Hulk grinned fiercely as he waited.