He woke up in a clearing.
His face was warm. An eye opened, but immediately shut. The brightness of the morning sun blazed on his pupil. His body rolled over. Placing his hands on the dry pine needles, he pushed himself into kneeling position. The pine needles stuck to his dirt covered hands. As he brushed them off his eyes scanned his surroundings. Trees. Lots of them. Many with split trunks or roots torn out. There were branches, leaves and bark pieces scattered all around. No natural disaster, no force of human tools had left this scar on the forest. He did it. Alone.
Standing, he looked down. His feet were bare and his pants were gone up to the knees. A light breeze whispered through the trees and across his back. He shivered. The blue hoodie, all he had been wearing the night before, was now gone. Threads and scraps for bird's nests now. Somewhere out in the woods.
He'd been alone. There was no need to try. So, the unassuming doctor dropped his guard, emptied his mind, and gone green.
Bruce turned from the clearing and began his hike back down. Maybe 6 miles down the mountain the truck he came in was parked. From there he would need to drive another ten miles off road and then back to the highway. In the truck there was food and water waiting for him. The afternoon prior he had hiked in with some jerky. A lot of jerky. He'd never bothered to light a camp fire. Not knowing for sure what he intended to do or not do, he didn't want The Big Guy starting a forest fire. Laying under the trees, he finished off the beef jerky as he watched the stars. Then he closed his eyes and let the flood come. Under his lids the irises turned green. The sound of splitting threads filled his ears. He could hear his voice releasing groans and then rumbles, then roars. And after that, he didn't care.
It had been Barton who suggested it. In a small moment of unique trust, he had confided in Bruce about Loki's abduction of his mind. It was a day when Tony was not around Stark Tower. Barton appeared as if out of nowhere in Banner's lab. He asked. He confessed. They shared scars. And then he was gone again the same way he appeared. But Barton had asked him a good question during their exchange. Why not get away, someplace remote and let go? Take a break from the concentration and the struggle, but know that nobody would be in danger.
So Bruce did.
He took a truck from Tony's endless collection of vehicles. He told nobody where he was going, just that he would be gone the weekend. Tony tried to get him to spill, but Bruce refused. Tony could accept that. He was all in favor of "letting off a little steam."
As Bruce stumbled down through the woods, small flashes of last night appeared in his mind's eye. But the fear wasn't there like it usually was. There was nobody he could have hurt, no loved one he could have crushed to death. Just him. They were safe, he was safe. Dr. Banner smiled. What freedom!
He caught a little speed as he came off a decent sized boulder. He stopped his momentum on a tree trunk and rested his head against it. He was starving. The Other Guy always took it out of him. His stomach roared for attention and his saliva had a metallic taste. Pushing his weight off the tree, he continued down.
When he finally got to the truck, Bruce tore open a 5lb bag of trail mix and dug into it. He sat on the ground with his back against one of the back tired. He legs were splayed out in front of him, and he realized how good he felt. When he cleaned out the bag, he drank an entire gallon of water all at once. Then he took the other gallon jug he'd purchased and poured that one over his head. It was glorious.
Bruce sat there in the sun for a long while. No thoughts, no worries. Just sitting. Finally he got up. He took an extra shirt out of a duffle in the back of the truck. When he had pulled it over his head, he got in the driver's side and began the drive back.
He promised himself to do this again, to release his grip. Now his renewed grip would be stronger.
Nobody had to ask Dr. Banner what he'd done while he was away. The fact that he reappeared at Stark Tower with ripped pants and no shoes was all anyone needed to know. Tony, however, hadn't needed any evidence. He knew what Bruce had gone to do. Still, he spent the next two days trying to get Bruce to give up his "Hulk out" location. There was no reason for it, really. Tony just liked to test Banner's steel. For a guy who "loses control", it impressed Tony how Banner had more self possession and control than anyone else he knew. Tony was an engineer. He like to take the lid off and poke things to see how they worked. Banner, however much Tony respected him, was no different. Bruce learned this quickly about Stark. And it was ok with him. This prodding, poking, take-things-apart curiosity was what made Tony, not just a genius, but Iron Man. Bruce appreciated it most, because that curiosity had yielded Tony's belief in The Hulk, in Banner. He wouldn't be here if Tony hadn't been obstinate in his certainty that Bruce's would, not only come through for them, but be indispensable to the team.
That afternoon after he ate, showered, changed, napped, and ate again, Bruce went into his lab. He tinkered and wrote, working on his latest continuing project.
When night fell, and he lay in his bed, his mind wandered to the Other Guy out in the woods. Last night, where he was given the freedom to just run his course, and the other time. The other time Banner had taken himself out into the woods with the intention of not returning. That time the Big Guy hated him. He spat a bullet out and destroyed acres of woods and tore up tons of turf in violent rage brought on by what could have only been Hulk sized adrenaline rush and self preservation.
Bruce pulled the covered tighter around him. It never felt ok to recall his feelings that night. He was low, very low. But tonight he was on level ground. Dr. Banner was grateful to Tony Stark. He was grateful to Clint Barton. For the first time in a long time Bruce didn't hate himself