A/N: So, after watching Avengers for like...the 10th time, I FINALLY picked up on the meaning when Bruce says "I don't every time get what I want" when he's talking to Natasha when she first comes to recruit him. And after crying and having an unhealthy emotional attachment to a movie character for about 20 minutes, I started writing this in my head because I guess gross sobbing isn't enough to screw with my feelings.

I highly doubt it's anywhere near canon - I honestly know nothing about Bruce's storyline except what's mentioned/implied in Avengers. So I'm sorry if I'm like...trampling on the canon story of the comics or something. Please don't hate me.

I own nothing except Jess (who barely even exists in this story anyway) and Melanie, unless there's some version of her that's canon. I don't own the canon one.

He had a daughter once. A little girl with a huge smile and hair that's dark like her daddy's, her mother would say.

Melanie Banner-Walton's parents had never married - her mother, Jess, always joked that Bruce was too married to his work. Maybe it was true, a little bit. Maybe it put a bit of a strain on their relationship. But that didn't mean he wasn't there for either of them.

Bruce liked to believe he was a good father - Jess was the 'primary parent', quitting her job as a teacher to work at her daughter's daycare. Bruce knew she'd given up more, much more than him, for their daughter, but he never once heard her complain. She loved her daughter, more than anything. More than him, certainly - not that he could blame her. Melanie was only 3 years old, but she'd already gotten getting people to love her down to an art form.

Bruce loves her more than anything, even though it's been years since he saw her.

When he started on his project with gamma radiation, he could sense Jess getting irritated with him, on the nights when he actually came home from the lab in the city. She was always unusually cold towards him on the rare occasions that the family was able to sit down for dinner. If she was smiling or talking to him like nothing was wrong, it was most likely an act put on for Melanie's sake. It hurt, he had to admit, but he just couldn't stop working on this. If he managed to crack the formula, he could change science forever. He'd always gotten a bit obsessive over projects, and this was a bigger project than he'd ever worked on before.

All the same, he made sure he got to Melanie's recitals. Some of his coworkers might scoff at the idea of putting down work, when he was so close to a breakthrough, to go running off to watch a group of little girls twirling in sparkly dresses and forgetting their steps, but to him, it was worth every second. Melanie would always be worth it.

Then the 'other guy' had happened.

He hadn't told Jess, at first, about the alarming mood swings he'd been feeling. How he had to fight to keep himself in control over the smallest things. How he was scared he might snap and hurt her or Melanie. He knew Jess would leave in a heartbeat. She'd always put their daughter first, over anything else. Especially if she thought there was even a hint of danger. Jess was a bit overprotective, he knew, and she wouldn't hesitate to leave him and take their daughter away from him forever.

But then he has the incident. He sees what he can do. And he knows, as soon as his eyes open and he looks down to see hands that aren't green and huge but that are his own, he can't take the risk.

He goes home before Jess can catch the report on TV or hear anything on the radio. He doesn't want her to know it's him. He prays she won't put the pieces together because he'd like to believe that someday, he'll get this all under control, everything will be okay, and he can go back to them.

They're at the daycare, both of them. Melanie comes running up to hug him when she sees him, yelling "Daddy! Daddy!" Jess follows, looking a little apprehensive.

He doesn't explain. Not entirely. He'll somehow get word to Jess later, explaining things a little better. He doesn't want Melanie to ever know what kind of a monster her daddy could be.

The confusion on Melanie's face breaks his heart. The tears in her eyes when he says "I'm not going to be able to see you for a while, okay, sweetheart?" hurt him more than he thought possible. It's for her own good, he has to keep telling himself. Someday, someday when I've made myself better, I'll be able to come back to her, and Jess too.

It's been years now. He tries not to think of Melanie anymore, but it's hard. She's seven now, still living with Jess (or so he assumes). He hasn't had contact with either of them since he left, four years ago.

He always told himself he'd come back, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon.

It takes a long time before he tells Tony about her. Of course, as soon as Tony hears what he has to say (he's been unusually quiet for the whole time Bruce was talking), he starts asking why Bruce hasn't found them. He offers to hack into 'the system' to find where they are now. Bruce says he'd rather leave it alone, but he can tell Tony's not going to leave it alone, just from the look that he gets in response. He shouldn't be surprised by that. But Tony's next words do surprise him -

"I'm sorry for you."

Bruce has to leave because he doesn't want to have another 'incident'. Being around Tony does help keep him under control, for some reason, but this is dangerously close to risking it.

He's managed to make himself forget about it when, a few days later, Tony drags him down to a car and insists that he needs to show him something. Bruce knows it's easier to not put up a fight at this point, so he just goes along with it. It's not until they pull up outside a school that he realizes exactly what Tony's done. His protests are shut down even before he's started talking.

"Listen. No one should have to grow up without their dad, okay? Besides, she's adorable. You could use a little more of that." Tony tells him. "Go." He shoves Bruce out of the car, into a throng of kids rushing out of the doors, prompted by the end-of-school bell.

He stands there for a second, lost and unsure of whether he should run away, when he suddenly hears a voice shouting. He hasn't heard her in years, but he could never forget it.

"Daddy!"

She's running at him, full speed. The same smile, the same dark hair, now long and flying out over her shoulders as she collides with his legs and hugs his thigh. "Daddy, I missed you."

A/N: Okay. I was going to end this here but I was dangerously close so I felt the need to add the second part. Bruce deserves a little happiness, I think. Not that getting to live and hook up with Tony all the time isn't happiness but I think he deserves this.