Chapter Fourteen

Bruce stepped back as he let Doctor Corea finish looking Juliette over. The tall Sri Lankan doctor had arrived ten minutes before from SHIELD, Bruce letting him take charge with relief.

"Bruce?" Maria asked, he hadn't noticed her come in. Now that the panic was over and Juliette seemed alright, he had time to think about what had happened in the lounge. "She left the tower immediately." Betty was gone; he wasn't yet sure how he felt about that. He had wanted her to go; he wasn't strong enough to face the idea of her coming back. Bruce looked at Maria, standing there obviously there to help in some way. Or at least try to.

"That's good, thanks," he said. All he had wanted to do was say good bye to her, before he started on the run that he had expected would last the rest of his life. To tell her that she should forget about him and move on. Bruce had waited for her, before he risked making a phone call to Stanley. The old man had told him, very kindly, that Betty was engaged and had stopped coming to ask him if Bruce had contacted him.

Bruce didn't remember the next few days, Canada had sort of flown by out of the window and suddenly he was awake and cold, with a dull ache in his mouth.

"Doctor Corea can manage," Maria said, the spy and soldier facade slipping as she gave him a gentler, concerned look. "You look like you could use a coffee." Bruce looked back at where Corea was adjusting one of the drips and nodded. Juliette didn't need a field medic around. He would come back and check on her later.

"Ross," Bruce began quietly as they walked along. He swore he heard Maria sigh.

"We're working on it," she promised. "He can't touch you in here, and we saw her safely out of the city, if that's what you're worried about." Psychic abilities, Bruce thought, were also a part of Maria's training.

Clint looked up from the pot he was boiling on the stove as they walked in. He gave them a nod as they walked in, and a look Bruce felt a bit too hard. Maria started making coffee, giving Bruce a discreet nudge towards the counter chairs.

"What are you making?" Bruce asked Clint as he sat down.

"Stewing apples, someone ought to do something nice for Juliette and I don't want to be included on the list of people she rants at. Therefore, desert as a peace offering." Bruce wouldn't have put Clint down as someone who could cook.

"Smells good," he offered. "She'll be awake in a few hours at most, but I don't think she'll be able to keep much down straight away." Clint simply shrugged, stirring the pot with his back to them.

"I have to go and make a call, I'll be five minutes," said Maria as she put the coffee down in front of Bruce. There was silence, apart from the hiss of a stove. Bruce wondered if he should say something more about Juliette, but he didn't have much more information to give.

"So, you and Hill?" Clint asked suddenly, his voice odd. Bruce looked at him in surprise, almost coughing on his coffee.

"Uh, no. No, not at all," he answered. Maria was a friend, he thought firmly. Things hurt too much with Betty's appearance for him to have room to think like that.

"Certainly seems like it." Clint was no longer stirring the pot but Bruce couldn't see him move at all.

"Well, I can assure you it isn't," Bruce replied, just as frostily. He and Clint had been working together half an hour ago to stabilise Juliette, now he was acting oddly. It took Bruce a moment to realise that he was back in some version of normal with people who felt things like jealousy and crushes. "Look, we're friends, I guess, and we had to work together on Greyhound and she came to get me in Orlando, but that's it. Okay?" He saw Clint's stiff nod and smiled. Well, normality was weird.

"I wouldn't say sorted," Maria said as she came back in. "But we have made progress." She was happy about something, pleased by whatever she had found out. Bruce saw Clint turn around only to find Maria's back to him. "Wouldn't let you down."

"Maria-?" Clint asked, making her turn around in surprise.

"Yes, Barton?" Bruce watched them for a moment, before Clint apologised quickly and went back to his apples. The atmosphere suddenly disintegrated, making Bruce want to leave.

"I'll be around, if anyone wants me," he said vaguely, figuring that he could use a shower and a moment to try and work out what he made of the last hour. He needed time to get his head back on straight.

He hadn't realised Tony had a music room until he passed a door he had never opened and heard someone playing. Gently, Bruce pushed the door open and peeked inside.

Natasha stopped and turned around as soon as he made a noise and Bruce felt instantly bad for disturbing her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you stop," he said quietly. She shrugged, putting the cello down.

"It's just something to do," she answered. "I had to learn for a mission down in Portland." Absently she picked it up again, playing slowly and quietly.

"Juliette's asleep, she should be fine, if bed ridden for a while," Bruce told her. Natasha simply nodded and he felt like he was intruding.

"Was it poison?" The question made Bruce stop at the door.

"No, not exactly. It was salt." The playing cut off.

"Salt?"

"It's toxic, in large quantities," he explained slowly, treading carefully. "What Hornet gave her was concentrated. There won't be any side effects though, a few days and she'll be fine."

"She hates salt," Natasha said blandly, turning back to her cello. "She even hates sea water swimming." When she fell silent Bruce took it as his cue to leave her to it. Something had riled Natasha, and he didn't belong there to disturb her.

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