If you'd asked Bruce about the hulk when he first arrived at Stark Tower, he'd have told you the same things most other people would: the hulk is a monster, full of rage. A dumb beast of destruction and the worst thing that ever happened to him. He really believed it. Bruce was tired of waking up under the sky, nude and with a sort of mental bruise aching in his skull. Tired of having to watch the news to fill in the lost time in his memory. Tired of the guilt, and the shame, and the tight leash he had to keep himself on.

But then something changed: he remembered. A little bit, anyway.

Looking back, he thought he knew why. He had lost control in front of people he knew before, people he loved more than this Black Widow he'd just met. The transformation was painful, like it always was back then, the hulk ripping his way out of Bruce's helpless body. But there was a moment. As Bruce clung to the shreds of himself, a second away from losing his grip, he looked back at Natasha. The terror in her eyes looked wrong on her usually stoic face. He wished he could apologize. She didn't deserve this; no one did. And then she whispered his name, and the hulk took over.

When Bruce woke in the rubble, he didn't know how he'd gotten there. He didn't know if he'd wrecked the helicarrier or if he'd killed Natasha. But he remembered those first few seconds after the change. How the hulk looked around for the threat, how he shook with anger. The strangest thing was a sense of… defensiveness? Bruce had always believed the hulk wanted nothing but to destroy anything in his path. Yet, he wondered. After all, every transformation was triggered by some perceived danger, whether it was someone getting up in Bruce's face or bombs exploding all around him. And so he wondered.

He had a lot of time to think as he puttered steadily onwards on his borrowed motorbike. Bruce could feel the hulk inside him, restless, as if he were pacing in circles in Bruce's head. The hulk's constant low growl no longer grated on his nerves, not after hearing it every day for years. In the middle of nowhere, alone on a back road, Bruce decided it was as good an opportunity as any to try something new. I'm a scientist, he told himself, I'm supposed to do experiments.

Besides. It's not like I have anything to lose. With that, Bruce concentrated – and reached his consciousness out towards the hulk.

Only to recoil immediately as he felt the hulk take notice. Bruce let out his breath in a rush and gripped the handlebars harder. "Easy, Banner," he coached himself. "Just try not to provoke him." He probed around again, hesitantly. He could feel the hulk's wariness, and it struck him just how cautious the beast seemed to be. Trying to project a sense of calm – he'd certainly had enough practice with meditation and control – Bruce focused on his breathing and let the hulk slowly draw closer. A wordless question fills his mind. That wasn't me, he thought. …Hulk? Can you hear me?

There was only silence. Bruce jolted when he realized the ever-present growl was missing. But he could sense no aggression, which was more than he ever really expected, so he tried again. Hulk? It's.. it's Bruce. He felt a little stupid, but then, his radiation didn't come with a manual on "How to Talk to Your Inner Green Rage Monster".

Banner.

Bruce tried not to fall off the bike. Hulk?

Puny Banner.

Bruce frowned but didn't argue. Can you understand me?

No response.

Somewhat at a loss for where to take the conversation – and frankly quite shocked there was enough interaction to even call it a conversation – Bruce paused. Clearly the hulk had more intelligence than previously anticipated, if he could speak. Thought all you did was roar, Bruce thought absentmindedly.

A growl resonated through his head.

Sorry, sorry – wait. Was that.. was that a joke? Bruce gaped to himself for a moment before shaking his head firmly. "He probably doesn't really know what you're saying." Unbidden, a news segment came to mind: an interview with a certain General Ross.

"The hulk is a danger to the public," Ross had said, glaring into the camera. "It doesn't think like regular people do, in fact our experts say it likely isn't capable of even forming conscious thoughts." The general's face hardened further. "All it wants is to kill."

Bruce was shaken out of his memory by an ear splitting roar. "Ouch, okay, sorry!" he winced, yelping aloud. "So you can think! I get it! Calm down!" The noise subsided reluctantly into a familiar and tolerable growl. Bruce could feel the hulk's irritation but was grateful for the respite. Since when do you listen to me? Bruce asked rhetorically.

The hulk snorted.

Yeah, okay. You don't. Bruce heaved a sigh, suddenly exhausted. "You know, if you did listen to me more often," he mumbled, "there'd be fewer people dead and more cities still standing."

Hulk protect.

Bruce frowned. Protect what?

Banner puny. Hulk protect.

"I'm not that puny," he grumbled, not sure what else to say. He drove in silence for a few miles, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. Despite the peaceful scenery, Bruce felt on edge – weirdly enough, from the quiet in his head. The hulk was still pacing, but he seemed to radiate less impatience than usual.

Trying new things was hard. Especially when new things were confronting your fears and engaging the angry hulk in your head. Not to mention vastly editing your understanding of your resident green guy.

Bruce tried to distract himself with planning. Hopefully he'd reach a town soon where he could refuel, maybe a bench where he could grab an hour of sleep. Too bad your strength doesn't help me now, he thought tiredly.

The hulk had nothing to say to that, apparently.