Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was a tough thing to do; waking up. It was never an enjoyable thing. As his eyes fluttered open, Bruce groaned inwardly. He could already feel it in his bones- it was not going to be a good day. He laid in bed for what seemed like forever, staring blankly up at the ceiling as the clock on the bedside table ticked on.

He was soon broken out of his reverie, though, as JARVIS' robotic voice broke into his head. "Banner, sir?" The AI almost sounded reproachful. Almost. Bruce heaved a slow, long-suffering sigh. "Yes, JARVIS?" He mumbled. It didn't matter; the AI heard everything. "Would you like me to retrieve Stark, sir? You seem to be in a bit of a slump." Another long-suffering sigh left Bruce's lips as his eyes fell shut again. "No, JARVIS, that's quite alright."

So, he had been right. Tony was having his AI monitor his moods and vitals. How...annoying. "Oh, and Dr. Banner?" Again, that British, robotic voice broke into Bruce's mind. "Hmm..?" was the only hummed reply. "Happy birthday, sir." Bruce's eyes flew open and he sat up like a bat out of hell, glaring daggers at the far wall like it was JARVIS himself.

"Fuck!" he muttered weakly, pressing his face into his hands.

0000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000000000000000000 000000000000000000000000000

It was almost an hour and a half later that Bruce managed to drag himself down to the kitchen to make himself some tea. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he knew that wasn't going to solve anything. And neither was crying. He quietly sniffed, trying to hold back the proverbial flood that he knew was coming. He fucking hated his birthday. He hated his father. He hated the Hulk and himself for being so weak. God, he hated himself.

His eyes were green and pink-rimmed when Natasha wandered into the kitchen, looking just about as awake as the walking dead. The second she saw his face, though, she snapped back to reality. "Jesus, Bruce, are you okay? Where's Tony?" For some reason, that only served to piss him off. Not enough to hulk-out, but still pissed him off.

"Why the hell does everyone seem to think that I'm so dependent on Tony?!" He snapped back at her, regretting it almost instantly. He hung his head at the wary expression, placing his palms flat on either side of his tea cup. "I'm sorry. Please, just...leave me be."

He could ignore he fear, but he could not ignore the little voice in the back of his head, answering his own question. 'Because I am.'

0000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000000000000000000 000000000000000000000000000

Not even three cups of tea and a bowl of mixed fruit could calm his nerves. He didn't know why he thought Science could. But, nonetheless, he found himself in the lab, firing up the computer and data systems and waiting for something, anything, to happen, so he had an excuse to break down and cry. Or hulk-out, whichever came first. It didn't happen.

For the umpteenth time, Bruce sighed, the screens before him lighting up and displaying multiple graphs, charts, long paragraphs explaining information, and numbers, complicating everything even more. But he couldn't seem to find the motivation to even begin to work on anything. He pulled the small stool over to the nearest counter, sitting down and resting his elbows on the stainless steel. His fingers found his hair, running through the brown curls soothingly for a few seconds, before tugging harshly and making the slight headache turn into a pounding mess.

He could feel it coming; the wave of depression. Hopelessness. Panic and fear and pain. His heart fluttered in his chest before giving an aching leap and speeding up dangerously. The tears began to fall, but he knew he wasn't at risk of losing control. So, he let himself cry. He put his head down and sobbed quietly into the crook of his own arm, lost in the memories of his condemned childhood.

0000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000000000000000000 000000000000000000000000000