Most people think of Bruce Banner as a dangerous monster.
If you told him that, he would probably agree with you. And if you told him to go and rot in hell, because it's better than him murdering innocent children and civilians daily, he would go and think of more ways to try to commit suicide.
He has a list. He has filled it up with ten things that can't kill him.
Most people don't know that.
Most people think that ten is a small number. Ten-year-olds want to grow up and be treated as adults.
Ten ways to kill yourself. Ten attempts at ending your own life and failing.
Ten suddenly seemed very big to Tony Stark.
He had found Bruce's list "accidentally", while "innocently" going into his friend's room.
So Bruce had something to argue with as well. Not much, though.
"What the HELL is this?" Tony demanded one evening, striding up to Bruce, who sat at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee.
"Hm?" Bruce looked up and froze at the sight of the paper. "Where- where did you get that?"
Tony said, "I went in your room looking for you. I stepped on something that was on the floor, so I picked it up and found THIS." He practically slammed the piece of paper on the table. Bruce shut his eyes, moaning quietly to himself.
The list went something like this:
Things That Can't Kill Bruce Banner:
•Gunshot wounds
•Broken neck
•Massive crush injuries
•Exsanguination
•Asphyxiation
•Drowning
•Valium
•Vicodin
•Morphine
•Heroin
•Etorphine
Tony glared at Bruce. "I am not happy with this list."
Bruce looked up at him. "What, am I missing something obvious? Should I have tried electrocution?"
"Exsanguination? HERION, Bruce? Don't you think that's drawing the line?" Tony seemed incredulous. Bruce, on the other hand, looked calmer than he should have been.
"It helped for a while."
"With what, with the guilt? Yeah, we all go there, and not everyone is stupid enough to turn to drugs! You tried to OD five times! Didn't you go through withdrawal? Didn't it hurt?"
"Tony," Bruce said very quietly,"this was a while ago. I don't even remember most of them. Can I please have it back?" He reached for it.
There was no such luck with Tony Stark.
"What do you believe the others will think? What about Steve? Or Thor? Or Fury?"
"Fury doesn't care about me," Bruce said, getting snappy suddenly. "He cares about if I decide to freak out in the middle of New York City, and he cares about how thick the glass to my cage will me. But he doesn't give a shit if I put a gun to my head or twenty-five pills in my mouth!"
Most people think that twenty-five is a big number.
"All he knows is that it hasn't worked so far, so he's assuming that it will never work! And Thor doesn't even know what a gun is, Tony, don't try to explain it to him."
"And what about Steve?"
"Steve? He...he doesn't have to know. Ever. No one does. Just- give me the list."
Tony Stark could not have thought of something he would like to do less.
"Nah, I think I'll hang onto it. Maybe make, like, four or five copies of it..."
Bruce stood up and held out his hand for the list. "Tony, don't you dare."
Tony Stark never passed down a dare.
He shrugged. "Don't worry, don't think of it as shame. I, personally, am thinking of party invitations. You're the host. That means you're doing all of the talking."
"Tony, that's mine, you can't just do whatever you want with my things," Bruce tried desperately. Tony replied,"Well, I do a lot of things with a lot of stuff that isn't mine, so I'm not seeing much of a difference..."
"Tony, promise me that you won't make any copies," Bruce begged. "They can't know...they really can't. I don't want to see them..."
"Oh, come on, I'd like a few frozen people in my house. Frozen with shock, that is. Rogers might not like the thought, though..."
"No...no, that isn't it!" Bruce started pacing. Tony was a bit confused. Only a bit, though, because he was Tony Effing Stark.
"Care to explain?"
"I- I don't want to see their reactions. They might look shocked at first, but they've heard of it before, they know that I've tried it before, and they'll just ignore it, and I don't want to see that..."
"What?" Tony exclaimed. "Bruce, we wouldn't do that. We'd give you any emotions you want, sympathy, pity-!"
"But I don't want your pity, either!" Bruce interrupted. "I want oblivion and ignorance of all of these attempts! I don't want them to know at all! Telling them about one was hard enough."
Tony stared at him for a few long moments before patting him on the back and leaving, taking the list with him.
As he passed Steve's room, he accidentally dropped it. The paper had the honor of being shoved underneath the door by an anonymous foot.
xxxxx
Most people think that, because of Bruce Banner also being the Hulk, he doesn't have feelings.
Which the rest of the people think is stupid, because he's angry all the time, and last time they checked, anger is a feeling.
Bruce Banner is also afraid. Afraid he'll hurt someone.
Guilty. For killing all of those children and civilians. Innocents.
Frustration. For not being able to kill himself.
Since he has been the Hulk for a while now, Bruce has an excellent tolerance for pain.
Sometimes he barely feels anything.
Most people think that, because the Hulk is nearly indestructible, that Bruce is never in pain before or after his transformations.
It is a big, fat lie.
In this case, "most people" refers to every single person except for one. That one person who knows better is Bruce Banner, because he knows how it feels and it HURTS, it hurts so bad.
He never tells, though. So when the phrase "most people" is used, it includes the whole of SHIELD. It includes Nick Fury, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff.
Bruce has never told anyone before. Ever.
So it had been three days after the Chitauri attack, and all of the Avengers had agreed to crash at Tony's tower, or what was left of it.
One day before, Tony had found Bruce's list. The next morning, Steve Rogers woke up and got dressed. He was about to leave his room to go to breakfast when he saw a crumpled-up paper stuffed underneath his door. He picked it up and read it.
His eyes widened and he rushed to the kitchen.
The other four were there already, along with Pepper, who was frying bacon.
"Hey, Steve," Natasha greeted from the island. He ignored her and spotted Bruce, who was drinking a cup of coffee near her.
"Dr. Banner," Steve said. The addressed man looked up. "Can I speak with you?"
Bruce looked a bit uncomfortable, but set down his coffee and followed Steve of of the kitchen.
"Yes, Captain?" he said when they were out of earshot from the others, right outside Steve's room.
"I found this," Steve handed him the paper with The List on it. Bruce's eyes widened a bit, and his face went slightly pale.
"I- this isn't-" he tried to stutter, but couldn't form an entire sentence.
"I thought it was a one-time thing, Dr.," Steve said quietly, but very seriously.
"Bruce. Please, call me Bruce."
Steve shut his eyes. "Bruce, please tell me you didn't do all this to yourself."
Bruce looked like he was thinking of a lie, but then his eyes hardened a little bit and he said,"This isn't anyone's business but mine. I can do what I want, OK? Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine." He folded up the list and turned to put it back in his room.
Steve wasn't done quite yet. "Bruce," he grabbed the physicist's arm just above his elbow.
"Ouch!" Bruce cried out louder than he had intended. Steve stared at the spot on his arm he had grabbed.
"Something else you've tried, Dr.?" he challenged.
Bruce pried his arm free and cradled it. "You know, Captain, I can get hurt when I'm not like this."
He left then, leaving Steve to think about what he had said.
xxxxx
Most people think that Bruce Banner is a freak.
He agrees. He hates his condition, hates himself.
Most people think that, when you hate yourself, and you can't kill yourself, you turn to self-harm.
Bruce did, at first, until he realized that when he was hurt, he had nightmares. Awful, horrible nightmares.
Bruce was in the kitchen very late- or very early- with a piece of toast in front of him that he wasn't eating. He was just thinking of what he had dreamed of.
"Um...Dr. Banner?"
Bruce jumped, but quickly calmed down when he looked and saw Steve.
"Bruce, Captain. I told you to call me Bruce."
Steve cleared his throat. "Um, Bruce. I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for being so assertive to you this morning. I didn't mean to...um, flip out. I was out of line. I was just concerned."
Bruce shook his head. "Well, I'm sorry you had to see that list. And...I'm sorry I snapped at you. I told Tony- begged him, to be honest- not to show anyone that list. But..." Bruce rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.
Steve took a few steps forward. "So...how's your arm? I didn't mean to hurt you."
"What? Oh, its fine. No damage done."
Steve sat down next to him. "You said that you could get hurt when you were The Hulk."
Bruce didn't say anything.
"Do you mind if I ask you something?"
Bruce forced a smirk. "Well, it depends on what you ask, isn't it?" Steve wasn't sure what to say, so the physicist shook his head. "Just ask, Steve, though I won't promise an answer."
Steve nodded. "Does it hurt? When you transform into the Hulk, I mean?"
Bruce kept smiling that bitter, fake smile. "Do you want a short answer or one that will take up the night with personal details?"
"I don't care. Whichever you find most comfortable, Dr- uh, Bruce. I'm just looking for an answer."
The smile finally fell from his face. "Every time," he murmured. "It hurts every time. No matter what I try to do. It's being electrocuted. It's fast at first. It's...a bolt of lightning striking me. Then everything changes, the pain is slowly taking over, and I- I can't describe it, but I hurts and I want it to be over, and it seems to take forever, and it hurts so bad. And I wake up, hoping it was a bad dream, but I wake up in pain, and I see the faces of the people I killed in my mind."
Bruce looked up. "Sorry. I know you said you didn't care, but you probably didn't want
the long explanation anyway."
Steve shook his head. "Actually, I was hoping for the long explanation."
Bruce had that fake smile on his face again. "You want the long version? Really?"
"Do you have more to tell me?"
He kept up the smile. Steve didn't like it. "Oh, you wouldn't believe the amount of horrible things in my life that I have yet to tell you."
"Well, then, let's start now," Steve suggested. "I'm all ears. It's twelve-thirty in the
morning. We have all night."
Bruce looked a little confused. "Are- are you serious?"
"Serious. So tell me."
Bruce found that he liked talking.
"The first night I transformed, I had no idea what was happening. It was the most painful experience of my life. When I woke up, my entire body felt as if it had been lit on fire. I had no idea where I was, and I was only wearing pants. I found a hotel that was completely destroyed. I looked around in the rubble and I found-" he cut himself off, remembering something unpleasant. "I found a girl. I didn't know her. She was only six or seven. Her body was crushed by a metal pole lying on top of her. And her head...was covered in blood. Her eyes were open, but they just kind of- just kind of stared without seeing. I found a lot of people like that. I started to remember what had happened. I remembered that I had transformed into a monster and done that to an innocent little
girl."
Bruce went on to explain his hiding from SHIELD and authorities who wanted to capture him, kill him, but most wanted to kidnap him to experiment on him.
"They wanted to cut me open and extract my organs, sample my blood until there was no more to take, freeze me, burn me, torture me. There was no end to the evil things they would have done if they had caught me."
Steve nodded. He realized now why Bruce was so jumpy all the time, so suspicious, on his guard, never making eye contact. He had taught himself not to trust anyone.
"Actually, someone actually caught me once. But she was crazy, and she left me alone for too long. The drugs wore off long enough for me to find a way out."
Don't even trust civilians. That was what Bruce had to do. Always on his own.
"I flew to India, became a doctor for the people who couldn't afford it, and then SHIELD pulled me away and broke my record. Now I gotta start fresh, starting...right now."
"So," Steve decided to say instead of "Wow!","how did you hurt your arm?"
"Oh." Bruce rolled up his left shirt sleeve to reveal an appalling bruise that measured from right above his elbow to nearly his shoulder. It was a gruesome color, blackish-blue mixed in with a sick yellow edging.
"When I was the Other Guy, I think a Chitauri stabbed my arm. It went all the way through. He pulled it out, though."
"You mean, you pulled it out," Steve corrected.
"No, Capta- uh, Steve. No, I didn't do anything. He pulled it out of his arm. I woke up with a really painful bruise and a beat-up body."
"Can I take a look?" Steve stood up and took Bruce's arm, gently fingering the detestable bruise. The physicist winced and hissed at the pressure being put on it.
Steve found a scar near the center of the bruise. "That's where you were stabbed," he pointed to the long cut. "Good thing you pulled it out."
"I told you, I didn't-"
"Just bear with me, Bruce." He rubbed his thumb over the bruise. "It looks really bad. Does anything else hurt?"
Most people wouldn't care one way or another if Bruce were hurt. Most people wouldn't think to ask.
Bruce was shocked.
"My body's kind of sore. As in all over. My ankle was hurting, to be honest. I can barely feel it, though."
"May I...?"
Bruce sighed. "Go ahead." He reached down and pulled off his sneaker. Steve leaned down and took the man's foot, feeling along his ankle.
"It's a bit swollen. Do you want some ice?"
"No, I told you, I can't even feel it. These things heal themselves." Bruce replaced his shoe on his foot. Steve pretended not to see him wince.
"Any other injuries?"
"Besides some minor cuts and scrapes, no. I can take care of those."
Steve suggested,"Is there anything else you want to talk about? Like why you're up in the middle of the night?"
"No," Bruce said. "I'd rather not at the moment."
"Well, goodnight, then Bruce." Steve walked back to his room.
"Goodnight, Steve."
Steve went into his room and slept, the only thing on his mind being Bruce Banner's strange and hidden past, and the physicist's injuries.
xxxxx
Most people think that, being the Hulk, Bruce Banner cannot feel fear. He cannot feel love or sadness, or guilt or grief.
Most people think that all Bruce Banner knows is destruction, violence, hate, and anger.
Bruce felt like any other human being. He had feelings and felt them all, maybe even more than any other person.
When Bruce woke up, it was quietly. Images of screaming people and dead children had fluttered around in his head, but he hadn't woken up suddenly. It was morning. 7:57.
Bruce felt something strange on his arm. He lifted it and looked down at his sheets.
It was stained with blood.
Bruce started to freak out a little. Blood? Where had that come from? He looked at his arm. It was all over his shirt sleeve.
Bruce rolled his left shirt sleeve up to his shoulder. The huge bruise below his shoulder was hurting very badly, and the scar in the middle of it had opened up, covering his arm with blood.
Crap! Bruce got out of his bed and covered the stain with the blanket. He took his shirt off and threw it away; he couldn't risk anyone seeing the blood.
Bruce thought for a moment, calming himself down, before saying,"JARVIS, where is the First Aid kit?"
A closet opened near the door. "Middle shelf, Dr. Banner."
"Thanks." Bruce grabbed the First Aid kit and set it on the bed. He cleaned the wound and the blood, disinfected the scar, then wrapped it tightly in gauze, gritting his teeth at the pain.
Done. Bruce replaced the First Aid kit in the closet and closed it. He sighed, put on a clean shirt, made sure that the gauze wasn't visible beneath it, and went off to breakfast.
The only other two people awake were Clint and Natasha. They were arguing quietly.
"Why can't you drop it Clint? It wasn't his fault!" Natasha hissed while grabbing the milk from the fridge.
"Didn't you see him during the battle?" Clint whispered. "He knew what he was doing! He was conscious!"
"You don't know that!" the woman accused. "You're just thinking like everyone else! You're thinking like SHIELD! How don't I know that you knew what you were doing when you attacked me?"
"Natasha, you know that I would never do that to you if I was in my right mind!" Clint insisted. "The professor had a moment of consciousness," Natasha argued, keeping her voice quiet. "Do you think he's aware of what he's doing when he destroys cities or kills innocent people?"
"I didn't say that-"
"Why don't you ask him when he wakes up? Huh? Or aren't you man enough?"
Bruce walked in then, not wanting to be spotted eavesdropping or listen to anything else specific. He glanced at the two. "Good morning," he said quietly, starting to make some coffee.
He felt their eyes on him, and it was making him nervous. Finally, Natasha's eyes left his back to look to Clint. Hawkeye cleared his throat.
"Um, Dr. Banner," he began nervously,"would you mind if I asked you something?"
"Depends," Bruce didn't move his eyes away from the coffee machine. "What do you want to ask?"
"When- when you...transform into the Hulk," Clint said, obviously not the best with words,"are you...aware...of what you're doing?"
Bruce hung his head. "I apologized to Natasha already, would you like me to again?"
"No, Dr. Banner, that won't be-" Natasha started to say, but Clint cut her off.
"Just answer the question and I'll answer yours."
Bruce stood up straight and finally looked at Clint. "No, I'm not. I can barely remember what we were fighting. I have no memories of what happens when the Other Guy decides to come out."
Clint was silent. Natasha seemed triumphant. "You saved Tony's life. He was falling out of the sky and you grabbed him and kept him from becoming the Iron Pancake."
Bruce turned to her. "Someone else would have caught him, right? I mean, they don't hate Tony that much, right?"
Natasha shrugged. "Someone might have been injured more than necessary. And we won't be needing an apology, Dr. Banner, you've done it enough already."
Clint excused himself and walked out of the room. The female assassin quickly glanced over Bruce. "Maybe you should go back to bed as well, Dr. Banner, you don't look well rested."
"No, that won't be necessary," Bruce replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee, which he seemed to be drinking a lot of these days. "I'm positive I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep."
"Too many bad memories?"
"You could say that."
Natasha didn't seem to want to hear anything Bruce had to say, or anything Bruce didn't want to say. He was grateful for that.
"I'm not curious or anything, but it doesn't have anything to do with that gauze on your arm, does it?"
Bruce froze. "Oh, um, no."
"Oh." Then she was gone, leaving Bruce alone with only his coffee to comfort him.
Most people think that Bruce Banner wants to be alone.
What most people think is wrong.