46Bruce wasn't happy at all.
Two days he had been here and he already felt like an outcast. Not that he had expected any differently, of course, but it still frustrated him.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had only brought him in because they thought the Other Guy would be useful, he was sure of it.
He had been brought to his laboratory – well, cell would be a more apt term, it had all the latest gadgets and it had its own living quarters, but had a curious reinforced titanium structure.
He felt very isolated.
His only source of human contact was the occasional meeting with Fury and the rest of the odd people that had probably been gathered in the same way he had, and the more frequent visit from various officers, making sure he was "safe".
Bruce sat sadly at his workbench looking over some data on the effect of gamma radiation in relation to atomic orbitals when the door behind him slid open.
Probably just one of the officers, Bruce thought. He was too depressed to care, so he just kept focussing on his work.
The officer stayed for a while, which wasn't unusual to Bruce, sometimes they liked to watch him, see if he acted different because of his "problem". But they usually got bored after about 5 minutes, realising that the green guy was the only interesting part about him.
His mouth was starting to feel dry, so he sat up to go to his kitchen.
He finally saw the officer as he turned round.
He had seen him at the meetings with Fury, he was one of the people in their little group. His name was Cliff or something like that.
The door to the kitchen was at the other side of the room, so as Bruce walked over, he could feel the man's eyes on him.
He felt it was rude not to ask him if he wanted anything.
"I'm going to get a drink of water, would you, uh, like anything?" asked Bruce.
He seemed rather surprised to be asked this question.
"No, but thank you." he replied.
Bruce nodded and continued to the kitchen.
"Um, wait..." started the man.
Bruce turned to look at him. The officer looked apprehensive.
"Do you, uh, have any scotch or anything like that? It's been a long day." he whispered.
Bruce smiled weakly.
"Yeah, sure, I'll be right back."
When he returned, the man was still in the same spot. Bruce walked over.
"Here you are, C-Cli-Cliff?"
The man smiled and took the glass.
"It's Clint, Clint Barton, and thanks." he said warmly.
"Clint, right, okay." Bruce cursed internally. "So why are you in here with me anyway?"
Clint looked at Bruce.
"There's a mission going on right now that's using nearly half of our work force, so I'm keeping guard here." Clint said nonchalantly.
Bruce thought for a moment.
"Wouldn't you be better on this mission than being here? Don't you have a special skill, shooting or something?" he asked.
"Archery," Clint corrected. "But this specific mission doesn't need my area of expertise shall we say." he said.
"And what's the mission?" asked Bruce, curious.
"C'mon Mr. Banner, you know I can't tell you that."
Bruce nodded and went back to the workbench, sat down, and started looking over his notes again.
Clint stood awkwardly, as it's very difficult to guard – or at least look like a guard – whilst holding a glass of scotch.
Bruce didn't say anything else and was absorbed back into his work, he was still depressed.
Clint sipped his scotch slowly, it was nice and smooth.
He decided to sit down on the ground, back against the wall, he was very tired.
He took another sip.
The area was on lockdown while the mission was going on; it had to be on lockdown because legally there were not enough officers there to go on patrol.
The real reason he was here was for some company, him and Bruce were the only people on the whole floor, and Bruce was oblivious to this as he never left his lab.
Banner hadn't been exceptional company, but it was company nonetheless and Clint was grateful.
He took another sip and rested the back of his head on the wall.
He really was tired, he had been working for 32 solid hours and counting without sleep.
He took another sip.
I'll just close my eyes for a moment, the parameter is secure, anyway. Clint thought.
He finished the scotch, placed his glass next to him on the floor and closed his eyes.
Two hours later, Bruce looked up from his work. He cracked his neck and stretched his arms. He'd been scribbling notes and whispering incoherently to himself for the last couple of hours and hadn't moved position the whole time.
He got out of his chair and started to walk to the bathroom but spotted Clint sleeping against the wall.
Bruce really wasn't sure what to do. He walked up to Clint and kneeled down.
"Hey, Clint?" he whispered gently.
No response.
"Clint?" he said louder. He tapped his shoulder.
No response.
Bruce sighed and stood up. He thought for a moment on what to do. Should he bring him a sheet? No, he can't let him sleep on the floor.
Bruce bent down and hooked his right arm under Clint's knees and his left arm under Clint's back and shoulders. He lifted the officer up with ease and carried him to his own bedroom.
His upper body strength increased dramatically when the accident happened, so carrying the not-so-light Clint was no challenge at all.
Once he got into his room, he lay Clint on his bed and pulled a sheet over him.
He wondered how long Clint had been awake for.
Bruce looked around the room for anything he would be embarrassed about Clint seeing when he woke up. He found a pair of boxers on the floor which he grabbed when he saw them. Other than that, the room was fine. He left the room and closed the door quietly.
When Bruce came back from the bathroom, he sat back down on his chair. He looked at his notes in front of him and couldn't make any sense of them. He put his head on the table and closed his eyes.
He hadn't been able to sleep in days, but he felt as though he could go to sleep at that moment.
He closed his eyes and let his conscious mind fade away.
He felt safer, somehow.
A/N
The title is from the fourth Hitchhiker's book, 'So Long And Thanks For All The Fish'.
Reviews are very much welcome/encouraged. :D
Shall update soon.