Banette

Banette: Term coined by cocoa85175. A pairing name for the couple of Dr. Bruce Banner and my character Bridgette Smith.

Will contain SPOILERS from the first two stories: The Girl Who Can't Be Moved, and The Ricochet (and currently in production, Faux Pas).

Nightmares

Nightmares. By definition, they are dreams gone rogue. Potentially good dreams that decide to pull up a person's fear, uncertainties and twist them into something terrifying, more so since they are trapped within their own mind, not always able to escape. Some people are prone to terrors more than others.

Bruce suffers from nightmares.

Everything was a haze. Fog clouding the scene. He couldn't make out too much of the area around him. Where was he?

"Wait-something's not right-he's not slowing down!" That was Bridgette's voice. She came into focus, slowly pushing herself up from the ground, pointing up at the sky. She was battered and dirtied, her jacket ruined. Looking up, Bruce could see the small figure of Tony's Iron Man falling from the black hole that loomed over the Stark Tower.

It was the battle against the Chitaurians and Loki. Tony was falling.

She's seen him toss and turn, those nights when she stays over. Even when she doesn't stay, she can always tell the next day. He'd have bags under his eyes, be a beat too slow in reacting, and would certainly doze off later in the day. It pulled at her heartstrings. She hated that she didn't know how to help him. It wasn't as if there was a bad guy for her pound, an outside force to defeat. She couldn't step in and take the nightmare instead of him.

It made her helpless.

The dreamscape changed and he was in the Hydra base in Germany. White was everywhere and there was the dull roar of the Red Hulk monster. His focus was pulled toward a transparent case and his breath caught in his throat, unable to breathe properly. It was Bridgette. She was trapped, locked in the Hydra deathtrap designed especially for her. The rest faded away as he rushed to her side, still Dr. Banner, not the Hulk. The control panels were blank, not providing him any option to stop the device.

"Bruce!" she called, her voice muffled by the case.

"Bridgette, hold on!" he shouted back. He brought his fists up and slammed them down on the case. Nothing. He looked down at his hands to see that they were still normal. He wasn't Hulking out. Why not? He brought his hands down again, pain registering to his senses. Still nothing. Why wasn't he changing? He needed to change, needed to save Bridgette!

Her own attempts at the case were now soft taps, the water level rising over her face.

"Bridgette-no! Bridgette!" Why wasn't he changing? He needed to be the other guy, needed to be stronger. "Bridgette!"

His breathing would be the first clue. Instead of the even inhales and exhales that indicated deep sleep, they would suddenly pick up in rate and would become shallow. Next, his body would tense, muscles coiled as if to spring. His brow would furrow as sweat dotted his brow. Bridgette tended to be a light sleeper, so on most occasions his sudden change would wake her, startling her into an alert state. Very carefully, she would sit up and shift closer to him. It was very dangerous ground to tread when he was becoming worked up in a dream, heart rate level rising, pulse spiking. It could potentially trigger the Hulk.

Well, quite a few things could trigger the other guy, but this was more on a subconscious level, so to speak.

Of course, she had her own nightmares as well. It was to be expected. The battle of New York, being recaptured by Hydra, it was enough to traumatize anyone, herself included. She wasn't made of stone after all. Despite her natural armor and what others may think, she still felt. She could register sensations, emotional and physical. Electrical impulse were sent to her brain and processed. Sure, a bullet couldn't pierce her skin, but she still felt it. A blade wouldn't cut her, but she felt it. Her armor wasn't perfect and she was glad. If it was, she would never feel the contact of Bruce's hand slipping into her own. The still foriegn sensation of a kiss. The warmth of an embrace. If she was perfect, she wouldn't feel a thing.

In the moment of watching Bruce tackle his own mental terrors, her armor was of no use to her. What good was her strength and durability if she couldn't help the doctor? What good was she if she couldn't protect him?

A new place. A new scene. He was dreaming, he had to be. He looked about, body sluggish and heavy. Here, he was the other guy. The Hulk. Green skin and bulging muscle mass, thundering footsteps. Where was he? The surroundings were thick with trees, the ground ripped up and craters spotted the vicinity Red registered to his vision and everything started to come into focus. Bodies were littered about, sprawled and coated crimson.

Tony. Steve. Natasha. Clint. Thor.

What happened? Why were they liked that? Were they..dead? No. They couldn't be...but why was he still all right?

"Please..." came a gasp. Turning to the right, his heart pounded at the sight of her.

Bridgette, chin covered in blood, dirtied and battered, was pushing herself back to her feet. She swayed and staggered, unable to secure her footing. "Please...Bruce..stop..."

Stop? Stop what?

The Hulk moved toward her, footsteps heavy. Her lower lip quivered and a cry was heard, tears pooling over. "Bruce, please!"

He could feel the anger fueling him, now charging at the girl. Wait, why was he running? Why at Bridgette? Why couldn't he stop? Stop, stop, stop! He wasn't angry, he didn't need to be the Hulk, he couldn't hurt her!

"Bruce!"

With a roar, he jumped high, bringing his fists down on the girl below-

"Bruce!"

Then she would lose her cool, unable to wait on the sidelines for him to wake up on his own. She would take her chances and shake his shoulder gently, then with a bit more force if unnecessary. If that didn't work, she would call for him. His name, loud and clear.

Startled out of his nightmare, he would flinch terribly, skittish as he tried to assess his location. Brown eyes darting about to confirm that he was indeed safe and sound in his own bed. She would reach out, hands on his bare shoulders, bringing the focus to her, her expression clearly written with concern.

"Bruce..." All right, she wasn't exactly eloquent. She couldn't help it. All she could think of to say was his name. Just his name in order to convey her worry, concern for his well being, her want for him to be all right. He had to be okay, he was Bruce Banner. She needed him to be okay. If he was good, then so was she. Simple as that.

It took him a moment to focus in on her, still disoriented. Then his arms would wrap around her waist so tightly that it hurt, not that she would ever say so. She would return the embrace with equal vigor, his face buried in her shoulder as they both refused to let go. His body would shake with tremors and her contact remained constant and unyielding. He never spoke about his nightmares to her, even when she offered to listen. Maybe because he simply didn't want to think about them, so that they would fade away. She needed to be strong, to help him fight whatever plagued his mind. If Bridgette Smith was anything, she was strong.

And she would always be strong for Bruce.

REVIEW! So, yes, looks like Banette will be happening! A little collection of one shots, scenes, and prompts. Better late than never I suppose? I'm still interested in this little project because it will allow a variety of pieces that don't necessarily need to flow together in plot or length (but if they do, I'll be sure to let you all know). Rating is subject to change, depending what kind of scenes I post.

So I hope you all enjoy! And you are more than welcomed to share ideas, prompts, or just random scenes/realm/world you'd like to see, I'm game!

G'night!