Darcy took a deep breath in, trying to steady her shaking nerves. Her hands were gripped tightly on the armrests of her wheelchair and she didn't say a word as Jane wheeled her down the hallway, Tony leading the way.

When they reached the door to Bruce's hospital room, number 357, they paused outside. It was the middle of the day, but because they were in the intensive care unit there weren't many others around except for a spare nurse or two.

After a beat of silence Tony told Jane, "I'll take it from here," and Darcy's friend reluctantly let him take her place behind the wheelchair before saying she would be in Darcy's room when they were finished.

As the door opened, Darcy sucked in a breath, and Tony laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The room was dimly lit, with only one set of lights on and the curtains pulled closed over the windows.

They paused right inside the door, Tony waiting for Darcy's cue to continue. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness when she was startled by the presence of someone in the far corner of the room. She relaxed when she recognized the man in uniform, a gun slung where a bow would normally be. "Clint?"

"Clint?"

The guard broke his stationary position against the wall and walked over to them, the light from the hallway spilling across his features and confirming Darcy's guess. "Hey, Darce. How are you feeling?"

Darcy had met Clint, aka Hawkeye, during her second month with SHIELD. It was after another rescue from the Hulk, when Darcy had taken cover in an abandoned building and discovered there was already someone else using it to hide. Clint had been shot and after a quick introduction, had allowed Darcy to bandage him up.

Darcy had learned how to remove a bullet from a grumbling superhero (something that would no doubt come in handy in the future), and Clint hadn't passed out on the cold concrete of the warehouse. So all in all, it was a win for everyone.

Neither had mentioned it afterward, which Darcy realized was a common practice among all superheroes it seemed - not talking about anything. However, the few times Darcy had seen him around the building, Clint had given her a small wave and a knowing smile.

He was giving her the same smile then, although it looked more tense than usual. His eyes kept darting to the room's primary occupant every few seconds as if he were suddenly going to disappear into thin air.

"Peachy," she replied to his question, waving her green cast in the air as proof.

Clint arched an eyebrow at the color, then his gaze flicked away again, although this time more in consideration than concern.

"Tony picked it," Darcy was quick to add, not wanting there to be any kind of misunderstanding.

Returning his eyes to hers, Clint said, "I didn't know that you were friends with the good scientist here."

"I don't know why you're surprised," Tony chirped, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the room. "I'm perfectly capable of making friends."

Darcy rolled her eyes at the lame attempt at a joke. "Obviously, he didn't mean you, Tony. And I don't know if I would call Bruce and I friends, exactly... it's complicated."

Tony, who still had a hand on her shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze. "You wouldn't have come to visit him if you weren't friends," he said, simply, and as often was the case with Tony, he was most likely right.

Clint nodded in agreement. "I take it Tony didn't give you the run-down on what exactly happened then?" There was something in his eyes, something that was being left unsaid.

"No," Darcy replied, voice purposely neutral. "No, he didn't."

There was an uncomfortable cough behind her as Tony removed his hand from her shoulder. "How about we let you say hi first... then I'll tell you what you want to know."

Bruce was asleep.

Well, obviously he was asleep or Darcy would have made Tony take her straight towards him rather than stop for a quick chat.

But he wasn't in a coma like she had first assumed. At least, that's what Tony had said, and Darcy was choosing to trust him at the moment since he was the only source of information she had.

Tony said Bruce had a heavy dose of sedative running through his system to keep him from waking up. Apparently there was some concern that if he woke up in this condition that he would immediately Hulk out, and it was the general consensus of everyone involved that that wouldn't do anyone any good.

Darcy couldn't really tell the extent of Bruce's injuries from just looking at him, though, so she wasn't sure how serious exactly his condition was. What she could see of his exposed skin was marred with dark bruises and a few superficial cuts. The worst that was visible was a deep gash right above his left eyebrow.

Despite looking at him for a straight five minutes, he didn't move, and Darcy's gaze was naturally drawn to the slow beep of the heart rate monitor - the only thing signifying that he was, in fact, alive.

Although Darcy would never have called Bruce an animated person when he was awake, seeing him so still, so unmoving was... unsettling. She wanted the slightly awkward, incredibly goofy scientist who knew how to make her laugh when she was having a bad day. She wanted the guy who knew how to put Tony in his place with one well-placed line of geek speak (even if Darcy couldn't understand half of what he was saying most of the time - the resulting look on Tony's face was good enough).

Most of all, she wanted to see the tiny fidgets he made as he was working. The scrunch of his nose as he pushed his glasses back into place. A wayward hand waving in the air as he was explaining some complex science jargon. She just wanted a sign of something, anything that would tell her he was really okay.

The sound of rustling pages pulled Darcy out of her thoughts, and she turned to see Tony flipping through Bruce's medical chart. Darcy's first thought was that Tony was probably violating HIPAA or some other law in doing so, but then again, he was Tony Stark. Tony Stark ignoring the rules was nothing new to anyone in the room. The familiarity of it actually, funny enough, was sort of comforting to Darcy.

With a grunt, Tony dropped the chart back into its holder at the end of the bed and ran a hand through his hair - the only outward sign of his frustration. Then, he pulled a chair up to the other side of Bruce, across from Darcy, and folded his arms. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

Darcy rolled her chair a little closer. "Everything," she said calmly, frowning at the sleeping scientist that she barely recognized. "I want to know everything." If her voice cracked on that last word, neither man in the room chose to comment.

If her voice cracked on that last word, neither man in the room chose to comment.

I know... I KNOW. More will be revealed in the next chapter from Tony about what exactly happened. It's not going to be too long of an explanation or anything, but I need to work out all of the logistics. Two updates in just as many days! Spring Break is a WONDERFUL WONDERFUL thing you all.

And don't fret. There will be some more Bruce/Darcy interactions before the end of this story. I'm not being vague with Bruce on purpose. This story is after all, though, from Darcy's point of view.

Note: I may have unintentionally lied to some of you all in the comments section about what to expect in this chapter. I was totally planning on doing what I said (this chapter's plot was originally just half of my originally planned chapter) but it ended up being much more detailed than I had anticipated.

Tomorrow I've got to get started on some senior project stuff for some of my college courses, but I'm really great at procrastinating with that, so expect to see another update sometime soon.

Oh, and come check me out on Tumblr if you haven't already. Pop in and say hi, argue with me over my ships. Whatever. :)

I'm also trying to figure out my plans for the second prequel story (which you may now realize briefly involves Clint at the end... so I hope you guys like him?).

Right... so feedback? Please and thank you.