A/N: This story takes place where the Avengers left off. I follow the backstory established in the comics up until how Bruce Banner became the Hulk for which I follow the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I very much enjoy Mark Ruffalo's portrayal so for me he is who I envision. However, I won't tell you who to envision for yourselves.

Also, for some reason, the birth year for Betty Ross that I found said she was born in 1977, which can't be right if she started dating Banner as an undergrad in 1991. She would've been only 14. So I changed her birth year to 1973 to make more sense.

Rating: T

Pairings: Bruce/OC, Bruce/Betty…I'm actually fond of Bruce/Natasha, but if I get to that point, it'll be in a sequel story. And yes, I'm planning a sequel already.

Warnings: First off, I'm not a comic writer or storyteller. I enjoy reality and I write that way. There will be mildly bad language, mentions and scenes of domestic/child abuse, thoughts and mention of attempted suicide, and adults consenting to doing adult things.

Disclaimer: I'm not even close to owning anything associated with Marvel Comics, but I do own what I've created.

Summary: "Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god." – Aristotle.

June 6th, 2011

New York

32 days since last incident

There was screaming everywhere. Frantic primal cries for help as cars exploded, glass shattered, and energy blasts erupted. Fire, smoke, and the carnage of war spread for blocks. The world around him seemed to come through in a fog, making him scared but mostly angry. He felt furious. And strong, like nothing could stop him nor kill him. His breathing was rapid as his hands clenched and pounded, picking up objects and aliens like they weighed nothing, and then smashing, hitting, and throwing everything in his path. A fist pounded into an alien invader over and over.

Then, the aliens all vanished and he was in the Helicarrier. It was dark. There was barely enough light to see and through the fog he saw her. The spy, Natasha Romanoff, was staring up with wide fearful eyes as she coward away. The fear he felt was consuming and in that fear he was blinded, wanting to attack everyone he thought wanted to hurt him, even her. He raised his hand, not a fist, and drew it back in preparation to backhand her...

"Please, Brian!" his mother plead while shoving him behind her. "Stop hitting him!"

He saw the look in his father's eyes, the rage, as he raised his hand up and swung on her instead. He felt frozen, paralyzed, as he watched his father hit his mother over and over again.

He was shaking, trembling, as he reached up and pressed his hands to his ears as he screamed out, "No!"

"No," he choked out as his body jerked upward, breaking him from his troubled sleep.

Looking around the dark room and out at the skyline of Manhattan, he took in a deep breath and collapsed back onto the bed. His heart was pounding as sweat coated his head, face, and body. Reaching up, he wiped the sweat off his forehead as he closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.

The nightmare of the memories of his past and present faded but not the feeling. The pain and disgust mixed in his stomach as he jumped out of bed. He barely made it to the bathroom in time as he gagged. Dry heaves stung his throat and tears burned his eyes. After a moment, he stepped back, rested his head against the wall, and felt his legs grow weak as his stomach clenched.

He slid down to the floor and buried his pounding head in his hands. He hadn't been able to sleep a full night since India, and even then it wasn't more than five hours. Now it was less than two. He tried meditation, his deep breathing techniques, and even had a couple of drinks with Tony every night hoping the alcohol would help; it didn't. Nothing helped.

Once he thought it was safe to stand he quickly got up and dressed. There was a file sitting on the desk he passed. Stopping at the door, he stared at the file as he felt his heart break all over again. He knew this day would come. Despite everything, all he wanted was for Betty to be happy. In that file was what he had found out about her life for the past five years. The hardest, but happiest, thing he'd read was that last year-after he had broken Harlem-Betty had married another man, Dr. Leonard Samson, on New Year's Eve.

It didn't matter how much good he did as the Hulk, or as Banner, there was always that possibility of him hurting her or even killing her. And that was something that could not happen. He would always love Betty, but they could never be together. Not while he was still this...monster. The frightened image of Natasha Romanoff appeared in his head, causing him to turn his eyes away from the file and continue out of the building. Using the stairs instead of the elevator, he headed down to the lobby of Stark Towers.

The streets of Manhattan were hardly ever still or quiet. Tonight was no exception. He walked around the blocks, careful to avoid the blocked off construction zones of the damage the invasion had caused, as he tried to clear his head.

After half an hour of walking in circles a blue neon sign flickered and caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He looked over and saw the entrance to the bar. It'd been almost two years since he'd stepped into a bar and he painfully remembered the last time. It had been when he first met Nick Fury. Fury had wanted to know what General Ross's 'Super Soldier' program had done to him, and to provoke a response, had two undercover SHIELD agents use him as a pawn in a lover's spat. During the altercation, one of the agents punched him which resulted in him getting angry and losing it. Nick Fury had found out that night that Bruce Banner was also the Hulk. It was how SHIELD picked up his scent and started tracking him. He hadn't been in a bar since, until now. Opening the door, he slipped inside.

The place held only a few patrons which relieved him as he sat on a stool at the bar and ordered a drink. He didn't mind drinking now like he'd used to. When he was younger he had been bothered by it. His father had been an alcoholic and he never wanted to follow in that man's footsteps. But now, if it helped him to escape the memories and dull his mind enough to get some sleep, well, he took it.

He was through his first drink and on his second, with his head resting on his hands as his heart broke over Betty one last time, when he heard the lyrics being sung out of the jukebox drift into his head.

"A hundred days have made me older since the last time that I saw your pretty face. A thousand lies have made me colder, and I don't think I can look at this the same. All the miles that separate disappear now when I'm dreamin' of your face."

He couldn't believe it. Elizabeth…his Betty, was married. There was a time when he thought she would remain his forever. They had met as undergrads at Harvard; she was eighteen and a freshman and he was twenty-two and finishing his senior year. Their connection had been instant, deep, and it had terrified him. He'd never been in love before, never having let himself feel too much or get too close to anyone. But with Betty, he fell hard. She was the only woman he had ever loved. And up until Samson, he had been the only man she'd been with.

"I'm here without you baby, but you're still on my lonely mind. I think about you baby, and I dream about you all the time. I'm here without you baby, but you're still with me in my dreams, and tonight girl, it's only you and me."

God, how could it have gone so wrong? Bruce reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stop the well of tears he felt burning in his eyes. Their lives together had lasted fifteen years. Most marriages didn't last as long as they had without ever being married. She had wanted marriage and more, but he was too afraid to take those big steps. Through their fifteen year relationship, it hadn't been all sunshine and roses. They had their ups and downs; he had made his mistakes, she had made hers, and there was that one time when they had been separated.

However, no mistake was more costly to their relationship than the one he made five years ago.

"Everything I know, and anywhere I go, it gets hard but it won't take away my love. And when the last one falls, when it's all said and done, it gets hard but it won't take away my love."

It was time to leave. That thought was the only constant in the swirl of chaos that ache his head. Betty had continued on with her life without him. It was time he continued on with his without her. It was time he left her behind for good. Her faith in him ever coming back to her was gone, and now his faith in her being there for him when he returned-if he returned-was gone too.

Another reason he had to leave was because he had to get out of that city and away from everything. It was too risky to stay and to be repeatedly reminded of the destruction he'd caused. Every day was a test at keeping the Hulk at bay. The city was just too big, too aggressive, and he couldn't handle it anymore.

"I'm here without you baby, but you're still on my lonely mind. I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time. I'm here without you baby, but you're still with me in my dreams, and tonight, it's only you and me."

Bruce knew what he had to do. In the morning, he would go. He downed the rest of his drink and sat the glass on the bar, pulled out a couple of twenties to pay his tab, and then stood to leave.

Six hours later he was standing in the kitchen, deep in thought, when he heard Tony's voice.

"You know what I just realized? You're free ballin'."

He glanced up as his hand stilled. "What?"

Tony Stark was sitting at the kitchen island, tablet forgotten on the counter, and staring at him. "You wear no belt because it'll be uncomfortable and restricting until it ultimately snaps when you Hulk out, right? So I would imagine it's the same with underwear, except probably in a more...painful way. What I really want to know is…it only that thin layer of expandable fabric between me and you right now, big guy?"

"And a steel counter," he sarcastically answered before tilting his wrist to finish pouring them both a cup of decaf coffee.

"I knew it," Stark said, picking up the tablet and cup of coffee as he stood. "No more hugs."

"We don't hug."

Stark was halfway across the room as he turned and said, "I meant with Pepper."

"Well, now you know why she always smiles after," he shot back with a sly smirk on his face.

Stark stumbled a step, turning to shoot him a glare as he opened his mouth to say something back when JARVIS interrupted.

"Sir, Mr. James Rhodes is on the line from Washington D.C.," JARVIS announced.

Stark pointed at him and said, "Me, you, on the roof in ten."

"If you want to duke it out on the roof, it won't be me you're fighting, Tin Man."

"Bring it," Stark said, narrowing his eyes at him before saying, "JARVIS, I'll take the call in the lab."

"Yes, sir," JARVIS spoke into the room as Stark got onto the elevator.

Bruce watched as the elevator doors closed as he sipped on his cup of decaf. He and caffeine didn't mix very well these days. He thought of joining Tony in the lab, but he knew that today was his last day there.

For the past month they've been like best buddies, geeky science buddies, but buddies non-the-less. Tony even helped him in creating a special fabric that when stretched stayed intact, and then when he returned to normal size, shrunk along with him. It was ingenious; something he'd been developing in his head for close to a year but never thought it could be done until he met Stark.

There was always a way, Tony had told him when he first brought up the idea. And if there was one thing Tony Stark could do, it was to find that way. They fashioned five pairs of pants from the fabric but nothing more. He didn't mind waking up without a shirt; it was the being naked from the waist down part he didn't enjoy.

But now it was time to go. He wasn't used to staying in the company of others for too long. It was actually a little unnerving. He also wasn't used to saying goodbye. This was difficult because he knew he would actually miss the man once he was gone. For Bruce, that was something he'd never thought would or could happen again. He actually had a friend; a couple of friends actually if he was being perfectly honest.

Leaving Stark's penthouse, he went to the elevator. He got off after three floors and looked around. The renovation was near completion for the six floors that would each contain one room sleeping quarters for the members of the team. When Tony first showed him the blueprints, Bruce had stood stunned and speechless that Tony was converting his tower into a headquarters for the Avengers. Tony had told him that whenever he wanted he had a place to stay at Stark Towers.

A place to stay; that wasn't exactly telling him he had a home. He hadn't had a home in five years. He walked right in the room and grabbed the bag he'd packed after he'd returned from the bar. The file on Betty was sticking up out of the small trash can. He made sure he wasn't forgetting anything as he checked all the drawers and the closet, even the bathroom. There was nothing left. He was just reaching for the elevator button when it started to descend. Bruce stepped back as it came to a stop on his floor.

The doors slid open to revile Tony who was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, and staring right at him as he said, "You weren't even going to tell me goodbye?"

"I-" he struggled to come up with something to say as he looked to the floor.

"You've got somewhere more important to be, like running from people who want to either kill you or chain you up and put you on display like King Kong?"

Smirking at that description, he shook his head and clenched a fist that was shoved into his pants pocket. "I can't stay," Bruce finally and simply said as he glanced up at Tony.

"Why not?" Tony asked angrily as he walked over to him. "You're safe here."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Tony shot back as he let his annoyance at being defied come through.

He shook his head and let out a deep breath trying to calm a little as he said, "Tony, I appreciate everything-"

"Cut the crap, Bruce. Put the bag down-"

It took everything he had to keep from snapping as his jaw flexed. Staring hard at his friend, he gritted out, "I'm not staying. I'm not like you. I wish I was, but I'm not the genius billionaire that the people and government actually trust. People are scared of me, the government is scared of me, and once the dust settles they'll forget all this hero bullshit and they will come after me and not you or Iron Man will be able to stop them. I can't put you in anymore danger than I already have, Tony. You're my friend…and, I…" he took a breath as his clenched hand dug in tighter into his palm. If he had longer nails he would've broken skin.

Stark reached out and clasped him on the shoulder. It was then that Bruce noticed that in Tony's other hand he held a packaged envelope. He sighed heavily like this was a huge disappointment before telling him, "Okay, but I've got to say, I'm going to miss you."

"Really?"

"No, not you, I was referring to the Hulk." Stark smiled at that last part, making him think that maybe he was kidding. Sometimes it was hard to tell between the jokes and the sarcasm what was serious and what wasn't. Then, the humor dropped as he said, "I knew I couldn't change your mind, but I had to try." Then he stepped back and asked, "Need a ride? I could suit up and throw you somewhere."

"I've got my own mode of transportation, thank you," he told him with a chuckle but still clenching his hand. "And let's be honest, you wouldn't be able to throw me far." His sarcasm worked the same; it was easier than letting the truth, or anger, out. Walking around his friend, Bruce stepped into the elevator.

"You're leaving through the lobby? Couldn't you for old time sake jump across the buildings?"

He shook his head as he told him, "I'm not ready to ruin this outfit just yet. I'll see you, Tony."

"Wait," Stark said as he grabbed the sliding door before it could shut and pushed it open. Standing between the doors, he handed the packaged envelope to him. "A special delivery."

Bruce took it and opened it up. Inside were five things he thought he would never own again: a cell phone, bank card, passport, driver's license from the state of New York, and a medical license in the form of a plastic card. The photos were all him, but not the name. "Who's Richard Jones?"

"You are," Stark said. "It's your new alias. Don't ask me how I got them. It's a long story involving favors, treason, and for some reason a lot, I mean a lot, of bubble wrap."

"You know this is illegal, right?"

"It's only illegal if you get caught, and I trust in your track record."

Bruce stared at him before shaking his head. "I don't know-"

"How to thank me?"

"How I'm going to maintain it. I appreciate the license, it'll make it easier for people to trust that I'm a doctor, and I'll be able to write prescriptions, but there are still people after me and when the Hulk..." he had to stop himself. He didn't like giving the other guy a name of his own out loud.

"Don't sweat it. I'm funding it for now. You have plenty in that account to last you a few years."

"A few years?" he asked stunned.

Tony shrugged, "I'm a billionaire remember? I can afford it. Be careful."

He didn't know what to say other than a simple, "I will."

Tony stepped back to let the elevator doors slide shut, and then called out, "Call me."

Once the silence descended upon him, and he was heading down to the ground floor, only then did he relax. Putting the items in his bag, he shouldered it as the elevator slowly came to a stop.

It was midmorning but with the cloud coverage the streets appeared darker with the anticipation of the summer heat and humidity gloomier as he started down the sidewalk. He reached up and lifted the collar on the loosely hung sports coat as a light drizzle of rain started to soak the streets. In his head he went over all the parts of the world he'd been, the few people he knew who would help him, and debated whether to stick around North America for a while or not. That would be until he was forced to leave.

There were many places where he could find solitude; a place to be alone that was quiet and out of reach. Turning at the next block, he continued to walk, head hung low as he twisted his hands around in his pockets. He didn't know why, but something was telling him to go north.

Crossing at the next block, he ducked down an alley between a storage unit and dry cleaners while pulling out from a pocket in the bag a set of keys. Of the three keys he used one to open a door under a fire escape. Another key he used on a padlock to one of the storage units. Resting and waiting for him on an oil stained piece of cardboard was a motorcycle.

It looked better than the last time he rode it. During those nights when he couldn't sleep, he would go there to work on it. It only took him three weeks to fix it up, having spent his days gathering all the parts he would need. He had also bought a black helmet and bike jacket that was leather and also black in color. He put the bag in the compartment under the seat before pulling on the jacket. He kicked the kickstand up and started to walk the bike out.

Once at the edge of the ally and street, he donned on the helmet and straddled the bike. The third key he used to start it up. Pulling out into traffic, he headed north toward the Bronx, then into Westchester County, and then from there he would continue to Canada.

December 2 1st, 2011

British Columbia

233 days since last incident

The wind was a piercing bitter cold that stung his face and gripped his body as he made his way down the street from where he'd parked the truck in a vacant lot. His time in Fernie, British Columbia was going on two months so he was still new there and wasn't a regular out in town other than to the diner he frequented. A cabin nestled back into the forest alongside one of the many mountain ridges was where he stayed. Back in October, he had gotten in contact with an old colleague of his, Dr. Walter Langkowski, while he was doing some research on Gamma Radiation at Simon Fraser University. Walter not only offered to help him with his research with finding a cure, but he also offered to rent the cabin he rarely visited out to him for however long he wanted.

Pulling his wool cap down over his ears, he shivered against the cold before shoving his hands back into his pockets. He took in all the holiday decorations as he continued further into the middle of town. There were Christmas lights strung across the main road from one side to another for blocks. Garlands were wrapped around light posts, and red and gold ribbons were wrapped around signs while wreaths hung above entrances into every store, restaurant, and business.

Getting to the diner, he pushed the door open and held it for a couple who were leaving. The small diner wasn't busy but he sat at the counter instead of in a booth. The waitress, Janelle, smiled at him as he took off the wool cap and gloves.

"Evening, Dr. Jones," Janelle greeted him with a genuinely happy smile as she placed an empty coffee cup in front of him. "How are you?"

Shortly after being addressed by that name, he had called up Tony and told him he got the joke. Bruce had found out upon living with Tony Stark for a month that the man's favorite actor was Harrison Ford. Tony had combined his two favorite Ford characters, Dr. Richard Kemble from The Fugitive and Dr. Henry "Indiana" Jones from the Indiana Jones movies to create his alias. Every time someone called him that, Bruce found himself smiling as he thought of his friend.

"I'm good, Janelle, thanks. How're you?"

"My shift is almost over so I'm wonderful. Do you want your usual?"

"Yeah."

"Decaf?" she asked as always every time he came in, which was just about every night.

Bruce gave a nod as he pulled out his wallet and took out the exact amount for his usual plus tip. He watched as she came back with the coffee pot with the orange handle which indicated that it was the decaf.

As she filled the cup, Janelle told him, "Your order will be right up, Doc." She gave him a wink before tending to another customer.

He couldn't help but watch her walk away. Janelle had been flirting with him ever since he came to town. She had long dark hair, green eyes that contrasted her caramel colored skin, and long toned legs that suggested she was either a runner or biker, or both. Under the sleeves of her work shirt he saw the ink from several tattoos and her right nostril was pierced along with three piercings in each ear.

She definitely wasn't his usual type, but he no longer cared about things like that. Recently he was just happy to see a woman smile at him. Relationships weren't something he worried about because he never stayed in one place too long to get personal with anyone. He didn't mind forming alliances, friendships, but that was it.

Shortly after talking to Janelle the first time, he had found out she wasn't from Canada, but Chicago, Illinois. When she was twenty-three years old she had met and fell in love with a hockey player. Shortly after they got together, her boyfriend had gotten picked up by a junior league in British Columbia. She told him that had been ten years ago and even though they had been broken up for six of those ten years, she had stayed. That put her age at thirty-three; the same age Betty had been when they were last together.

He didn't know why she was working at the diner but at the moment didn't care. He didn't even have a job other than being a "missionary doctor". At least that was what he told anyone who cared enough to ask.

Janelle returned to refill his cup. She offered him another smile before going to get his order that had been called out as being done. When she placed it in front of him, she asked, "Are you really a doctor?"

Bruce smirked as he asked, "Don't I look like one?"

She pursed her lips together, narrowing her eyes to study him hard before telling him, "Maybe one of those TV doctors, handsome. What's your specialty?"

He almost didn't hear the question as he was stuck on the "handsome" comment. "My…I'm a scientist, but I've had training as a physician. And what I didn't know, I taught myself. You can't be a doctor traveling the world if you don't know about medicines and treatments."

"But you don't just hand out prescriptions, do you? You actually cure people?"

"Yes, I help to cure people. I only write a prescription if it's absolutely necessary. I guess you could say my specialty is natural medicine. I've been told before, in every village I've been to, that I'm what they call a Medicine Man."

"My relatives would call you a voodoo doctor. They're from New Orleans."

Bruce smiled a little as he asked, "Why are you so interested in what I do?"

Janelle looked around the diner before leaning on the counter. Getting close and dropping her voice, she said, "Meet me after I get off."

He nervously laughed as he sat the cup down. "Janelle-"

"I need a second opinion, and you're the only doctor I know," she told him.

Bruce realized she was serious and so he gave a nod. "When do you get off?"

She looked at the clock and said, "Ten minutes."

He made it a point to eat fast and in ten minutes he was out the door. He always carried his doctor's bag in the truck that was parked down the street. Having Janelle follow him, they started the walk to the truck. The '11 Ford Ranger wasn't his, it belonged to Walter, but he was given permission to use it since all he had was the motorcycle that was parked in the garage at the cabin.

Approaching the vacant lot where the truck was parked, Bruce pulled out the keys and told Janelle to get in as he hit the unlock button on the keychain. Once seated and the heat was blasting he asked, "Where to?"

Janelle directed him through the streets until they were parked in front of a one-story house. He took out the bag before following her up the walkway. The house was white, blue trim, and looked to be a small two bedroom. The fence that surrounded it was falling apart with gaps between posts. There were toy GI Joes, guns, and a sled in the snow on the porch as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The glow from the television was the only light in the living room as they entered. Bruce saw sitting on the couch a teenage girl.

She stared up at him before getting off the couch. "He's asleep," she told Janelle.

"Thanks, Ashley. Here," Janelle told the girl as she held out some money.

Ashley took the cash and grabbed her coat that was by the door. She kept eyeing him before saying, "You're the doctor guy."

Bruce gave a nod, saying, "Yeah."

She looked back at Janelle before telling him, "I hope you can help," before she left the house.

Bruce stepped over and finished shutting the door that got stuck on the wet floor mat. He locked the door and turned back to Janelle who was in the kitchen taking off her boats and coat. He did the same but stood in the entryway and hung his coat on the hook by the door.

"This way," Janelle said as she motioned for him to follow her down the short hall.

He passed the bathroom and then stopped at the first bedroom. Stepping in, he saw a small lamp light on next to the bed where a boy slept. He looked to be about ten or eleven.

Janelle sat on the bed next to him and placed her hand on the boy's head, then his chest. "The doctor I took him to said he had a cold and prescribed cough medicine and plenty of rest and fluids."

"And my guess is that it didn't work. How long ago was that?" Bruce asked as he sat his bag down. He opened it and pulled out his stethoscope and put it around his neck. He smelt an odor in the air and looked over to the other side of the bed. There was a trash can on the floor and saw it half full with fluids.

"It's been over a week," she told him as she moved away to let me sit where she'd been. "And it's gotten worse. He didn't have nausea or a fever until a day ago and the coughing…"

Bruce already didn't like the sound of the boy's air intake. "What's his name?"

"Damien." Janelle sat on the other side of the bed and took Damien's hand in hers.

He felt Damien's head; it was burning. Checking his neck, he felt the stiffness and felt his own neck flex and jaw twitch. He quickly got out a thermometer and as he used sterile wipes to clean it off he told her, "He's running a high fever. I need you to wake him up for me."

Janelle looked hesitate but she did as she was told as she gently woke her son. Damien protested but it was weak as he went to talk only to break out into a coughing fit.

Bruce heard the sharp wheezing, the rapid breathing, and sighed in frustration. Handing the thermometer to Janelle, he said, "He trusts you."

Janelle took the thermometer from him and asked Damien, "Open up, baby."

Damien looked confused for a moment before opening his mouth and let her put it under his tongue.

He checked his watch and as he waited gently lifted the boy's pajama basketball shirt and watched the chest wall go inward as the boy breathed rapidly. Bruce glanced to Janelle and saw her concerned eyes on him. Taking the thermometer out of Damien's mouth, he saw that his temperature was 40.5 degrees Celsius, putting it at 105 degrees Fahrenheit. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath before asking Janelle, "Do you have any ice packs?"

"No, but there's snow and I've got baggies."

Bruce nearly smiled at her ingenuity as he told her while pulling out his blood pressure meter, "Start making some, and also run a bath just in case. Don't use any hot water; keep it cold." Looking over at her, he said, "Now."

Janelle jumped up and hurried out of the room.

Turning back to the boy, he said, "All right, Damien, I'm going to take your blood pressure." He strapped the cuff on the boy's arm and quickly took his blood pressure reading. It was a little low but not dangerous, yet. "Now, I know this next part is going to hurt, but I need you to sit up for me so I can listen to your lungs."

Damien wheezed again but attempted to sit up only to wince in pain.

"Here, let me," he said as he wrapped his arm around Damien's body and as gently as possible eased him upward until he was resting against his chest. "It'll be okay," he softly whispered to the boy as he rubbed his back. Bruce put the stethoscope on his ears and then checked the boy's breathing. "Deep breaths…okay. Again, big, deep breath."

"Hurts," Damien told him as he started to shake from a cold chill.

"I'm sorry, buddy, but I've got to make sure I know why it hurts and then I can help to fix it. Okay? I can tell you're a brave kid, and I need you to be brave and take a big breath for me."

Damien gave a nod and took in not only one more but three more deep breaths for him.

Bruce smiled at him as he laid him back down. "That was good, Damien. You did great."

The boy didn't even last long enough to smile back before he was back asleep. Bruce had seen enough of these cases when he was in India so he knew exactly what it was without having to do an x-ray to confirm. He got up to see if the bath was ready for the kid. Getting to the bathroom, he saw Janelle dumping a shovel full of snow into the tub as he stopped in doorway. "He has pneumonia with a forty-point-five degree temperature."

Janelle asked in confusion, "Forty-point-five?"

"Celsius. That's one-oh-five Fahrenheit. Where are the bags? Why are you-" he went to ask about the snow in the tub when she interrupted him.

"Oh, God," she said as she dropped the shovel and pushed past him out of the bathroom.

"It's going to be painful but I need you to submerge him in the bath. It's the only way to break the temperature," Bruce called out to her.

Moments later he saw her carrying Damien's near naked body out of the bedroom; the boy was wearing nothing other than his underwear. Walking past him, Janelle took a breath before shaking her head. "He's going to scream and-"

"He's going to get worse if you don't," he told her and it was the truth. That boy's temperature had to get down as quickly as possible. "I don't know how long it's been."

"I checked it this afternoon before I left for work and it was only a hundred. I gave him his medicine and Tylenol…" Janelle trailed off as she eased her son down into the snow and cold water filled tub. The shrill that erupted from Damien nearly had his mother pulling him back out.

Bruce got down on his knees next to her and eased the boy back down. "Talk to him, tell him everything's going to be okay."

Janelle had tears rolling down her face as she shushed and tried to calm her son as he continued to jerk, scream, and then break out into a coughing fit until his throat went hoarse and dry. Then Damien passed out and went limp in the water.

Bruce checked his pulse and breathing. "He's fine. I was expecting that."

Janelle looked over at him and said angrily, "I wasn't."

"Sorry, I should've warned you." Bruce sat on the floor with his back resting against the wall and rubbed at his head. "We'll keep him in there for about ten minutes and then we'll put him back in bed with the bags and give him some more Tylenol. He has to start keeping fluids down or he'll become severely dehydrated, but until then, I've got a couple of IV's I can give him…Janelle? Janelle, are you listening?"

She was staring down at her son, fixated on him, but she gave him a nod to indicate she was listening. "What about the pneumonia?"

Bruce sighed heavily as he told her, "I think he has bacterial pneumonia caused by the influenza virus. He needs antibiotics. I can write a prescription. Once we treat him for the fever and the flu, it'll help with the pneumonia. He needs to stop taking the cough medicine. Do you have a humidifier?"

She shook her head no.

"Okay. Later we'll run the shower, but with only hot water, and we'll let him sit in here when it steams up." He continued to watch her as she watched her son. "It's preventative. Every year you need to make sure he gets a flu shot."

"Can he die from this?"

Bruce swallowed hard as he wrung his hangs tight around the stethoscope. "He can, but only if he doesn't get the antibiotics and the fever doesn't break. But, he will and, it will," he grunted out as he got up off the floor and headed down the hall to the bedroom.

He fumbled getting his reading glasses out of his inside jacket pocket as his hand shook. Taking a breath, he slipped them on before getting out the prescription pad and pen from his bag. He quickly wrote out a prescription for the antibiotics he needed as he went back into the bathroom. "Here," he said as he tore off the sheet. "Why don't you go to the pharmacy and put the order in. I'll find the number and call ahead to make sure they put a rush on it. I'll stay with him."

Janelle took the slip as she got to her feet. Looking it over, she shook her head and looked up at him. "How much will it cost?"

"I thought health care was free here," he said with a smirk before pulling out his wallet and handing her a ten just in case.

"But aren't I the one who's supposed to be paying you?" she asked without taking the cash.

Bruce stuffed the money in her hand and said, "I never told you to bill me, and I won't. Take my truck." He took out his keys and handed them to her. "I noticed you didn't have a car."

"It broke down months ago," she told him as she took the keys and then gave him a hug. "I'll be back as fast as I can."

"Just drive safe," he called after her.

Bruce watched as she left out the front door and then turned to the boy in the tub.

Hours later he crashed on the couch and closed his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his face and head. It had been a long day and now an even longer night but Damien was doing better and was breathing a little easier. Actually, they both were breathing a little easier. He heard the bedroom door close down the hall and opened his eyes to see Janelle let out a breath as she entered the living room.

She smiled weakly at him as she said, "I can't thank you enough, Doc."

Bruce smiled and said, "Call me Richard…or Bruce," he said as he sat up straight, resting his elbows on his knees. "Bruce is my middle name."

She smiled wider as she walked over to sit next to him. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "I prefer Doc; its sort-of like a nickname I have for you."

Glancing around his shoulder at her, he said, "Whatever you want to call me is fine, as long as you smile like that when you say it."

Janelle chuckled and said, "Oh, now you're the charmer. I see how it is. Save my son's life and think you can sweet talk me, Doc."

Bruce smirked slightly as he ducked his head and looked toward the floor. "I'm not trying to be charming, just being honest. And you don't have to thank me. It's what I do and I love what I do, and I can afford to do it for free."

"So, you really do go around the world helping people for no cost at all?" Janelle's eyes widen as she asked, "Are you a millionaire?"

Bruce hesitated but then said, "Not me, technically."

"How can it not technically be you if you have the money?"

"It's a long story." Bruce turned his head back around to look at her. "If I wasn't being funded, I would have to ask for payment, but I am so I don't. It's as simple as that."

Janelle gave a nod. She rested her head back on the couch as she peered over at him. She was still wearing her work clothes, aside from the apron, as she asked, "When do you leave here?"

He shrugged as he twisted his hands together before tapping them against his forehead. "It could be months, or, it could be tomorrow. I never know until I have to leave. A friend of mine helping me out is the only reason why I'm here now. He's letting me rent out his cabin on a weekly basis while he's away. I'm getting comfortable here, I like it, but there are many more people who need my help. After a while, I'll have no choice but to leave."

"And you never know where you're going?"

Bruce almost laughed. "Oh, that's the fun part. You know," he said as he sat back and looked over at her, "before I came to Canada I was in New York, and before New York, I was in India."

"India?" she asked amazed. "How was that?"

"Foreign," he said jokingly, "but I helped a lot of people who needed it. I learned the language, as I do wherever I go. I now know almost twenty different languages."

"You speak French?" she asked as she scooted closer to him.

"Oui, madame."

Janelle smiled as she told him in French, "Je pense que vous êtes très sexy."

She thought he was sexy? Bruce stared over at her and felt a soft smile twist his lips up as he told her, "Tu es magnifique."

Janelle smiled at him as she pushed him away. "Shut up. I look a mess."

"And I don't? You're still beautiful, even if you do smell like you've been waiting tables all day."

She pushed him again as she got up and headed toward the bathroom. "I know I need to shower."

Bruce watched as she suddenly pulled her shirt off and tossed it toward her bedroom. It'd been a really long time since he'd seen a half-naked woman standing in front of him; he couldn't take his eyes off her. He was also having a hard time breathing properly, only this time it wasn't from anger. "Um…" he went to say when she walked over to him and took his hands in hers.

Pulling him up, she said, "You need a shower too."

"I do?"

"That is, unless you're afraid to shower," she said as she starting pulling him with her toward the bathroom.

Bruce felt himself start to tremble slightly as he thought of what "shower" really meant. He wasn't afraid, but nervous, and maybe even more than a little desperate. He hadn't been with a woman in over five years. When he had told Stark that same thing over six months ago, Tony had made a joke about how it was no wonder he was so angry all the time.

Janelle was running her hands up his shirt and she must have felt how fast his heart was pounding.

"Janelle-" he said as his voice wavered.

"You can call me Janie, Bruce." Looking up at him, she gave him a gentle smile and said, "You don't do this often, do you?"

He shook his head, explaining, "Like I said, I don't stay in one place too long. It's hard to form intimate relationships."

"Are you interested in forming relationships?"

Bruce took a moment to think about that as he thought of Betty. He had, but…"Not anymore," he told her before leaning in to kiss her.

There had been a reason he had been so determined to be able to control the Hulk from taking over when his heart rate got too high. He had remembered how last year he was unable to get too excited with Betty. The thought of never being able to have sex again with her, or anyone, forced him to find ways to control not only his breathing, but his anger, excitement, and adrenaline. He couldn't just focus on his breathing; it was so much more than that. He had to control everything, and even when he was angry, like he was all the time, he could keep the Hulk away. So the same was with excitement.

No matter how excited he got, the Hulk would only come out when he wanted him too. Unless a bomb exploded and scared him half to death, but he didn't think there was a bomb hidden inside Janelle's shower, or under her bed, waiting to go off anytime soon.

TBC…

PS: The song used in the first part of the chapter was "Here Without You" by 3 Doors Down. Also, I don't plead for reviews, but they are welcomed and appreciated.