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Blue eyes blinked open. Confusion was foremost. Too much wind. Not enough light. Too cold. Strange noises. That was her poster framed on the wall. This was home, but it was wrong. Everything was wrong. What was …. no …. no, she had to remember. There was something… she remembered.
Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure in her chest, blocking the air from moving. She was staring, eyes wide open, but she couldn’t see this. It couldn’t be real. None of this was happening. None of it. NO!
Her hand went to her chest, but there was nothing there, no hole. There should have been a hole. She dropped to her knees and her nails dug into her throat and chest as she tore open her shirt, trying to catch her breath, trying to do anything but see the broken window before her, the blood on the longest of the jagged pieces. They were more than forty floors above ground and he couldn’t fly.
Oh, gods above.
She took a deep gasping breath as spots began to dance in front of her eyes. She couldn’t be that girl. She couldn’t let that be all there was. No, this was the best thing to happen to her. He was the best thing to happen to her. She scrambled across the floor and hands and knees, her palms slicing open on the broken glass strewn on the floor. She reached the window and reached up to take hold of that single, jagged piece, her blood mingling with what was already there as she used it to lever herself into a standing position.
Her dark hair slapped across her face, dancing around her head with wild abandon as she swayed in the air, her breathing now hysterical. She couldn’t see them. Not the man that had broken into their home, holding her hostage against the man she loved, and not him. It had been so fast. He had gotten her loose and behind him, but then the costumed man had pulled the gun and she had shoved Clint out of the way. He had brought her with him, though, down to the floor and out of the bullets path.
That was Darcy all over. Stupidly brave when a smart person would be running. She had run to the kitchen and grabbed a knife while Clint was grappling with the man. He had told her to run, to call for help. She had hit the alarm and gone to the kitchen. No time for calls, this was an emergency and she had wanted to be armed. They’d gotten the other man unarmed enough that it was a fair fight between he and Clint. Too fair.
There was a crash behind her, but Darcy didn’t turn. The cavalry was here, but it was late. She stared out the broken window, down toward the ground. She couldn’t see them. Where had they gone? What had happened? She’d slammed against the wall, her head had cracked against the wall and that huge, booted foot had slammed into her ribs once, twice, more times before Clint had tackled him and the two were rolling and slamming and he was screaming her name, telling her to move for him. Just stay awake.
Why had she been afraid of them? Why had she waited for so long? She turned him down for months, afraid of herself more than him. She should have leapt. Should have opened her arms and fallen head first right away. It was more months of dates and then, only then, would she admit they had something that scared her as much as it exhilarated her. She shouldn’t have waited. Where the hell was he?
“Darcy?”
She ignored the person saying her name and felt her body start to shake as she looked up. Had they gone up? Could they have gone up? Where was he!?
“Darcy!” It was a shout this time, and an arm locked around her waist as she leaned out further, trying to see. She threw her arms, her elbows flying and her fingers clawed as she tried to get away.
“I can’t see him!” She screamed, trying to get away. “I have to find him!”
“Darcy! Look at me!” She was fighting it, but a hand slapped her just hard enough to get her attention. Her cheek stung but she blinked and focused on the wide eyes in front of her. “Darcy, what happened?”
“Clint went out the window.” She told Natasha, her face draining of color. “He was fighting a man, I don’t know who. He was … he went out the window.”
“I will find Clint. You need to go with Agent Martinson. Darcy, do you understand me?” Natasha didn’t move her eyes away from the brunette and Darcy nodded, allowing herself to be led out. She didn’t even make it halfway down the hall before collapsing. They had to get a gurney, but Darcy couldn’t remember the trip. All she could remember was flashes of light, the dark sky dotted with stars outside their windows, and the wind coming through the jagged hole that shouldn’t have been in the glass.
“You say she was conscious when you found her? I don’t see how.” There were two men and the lights were too bright, but she was tired. Where was Clint?
“How is she?” She must have blinked, because now there was a different man, Steve. Not Clint, though. Why was she so tired?
“Darcy?” The voice pulled her from the darkness, but barely.
“Clint?” Her eyes were blurry, she didn’t know where her glasses were.
“It’s me.” The voice assured, it wasn’t close enough.
“I couldn’t find you.” Oh god, she was crying. She hated crying. She was still confused though, wasn’t sure what was going on.
“Darcy, Darce? Don’t cry, hon. I was just hanging out a few floors down. I promise.” He told her, his voice rough and pained.
“I couldn’t find you,” She repeated, her cries becoming full sobs that made her entire chest hurt. There was a creaking and then a machine started making frantic noises as Clint came into view, he was wearing scrub pants and a shirt that was unbuttoned in the front. His arm was in a sling and his shoulder was heavily bandaged, but he was there. She couldn’t do anything but shake her head and sob.
“I’m right here.” He promised her, fighting with the side of her bed before a slender figure slipped around behind him, turning off machines and then helping him into Darcy’s hospital bed with quiet competence. The redhead then went back to the door, lounging against the frame and facing outward.
“You fell.” She insisted as he tucked her against his good shoulder.
“I’ll always fall for you.” He agreed. She shook her head and let out a wet chuckle.
“That was terrible.” She informed him, trying to sniff back her tears and failing.
“Tonight was terrible.” Clint told her, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me. I thought I lost you and it hurt. All I could think of was finding you, but I couldn’t see you.” Darcy told him, the tears slowing as his heart beat against her ear.
“Leaving you will never be my choice.” He promised.
“Good, because even if I can’t find you, Natasha can.” Darcy informed him. He chuckled and then hissed in pain, but Darcy thought she saw the woman in the doorway nod her agreement. It was a good thing she’d gotten there when she had. Darcy would have jumped if she’d had wings. She would follow him wherever she needed to. She couldn’t fly, but she’d have followed him if Natasha hadn’t found him.