Author's Note: Huh? Who...me! Yeah, I guess I am the author. Nifty, that is. Anyway, I just love Bruce and Betty to death...not literally, obviously. This is just a random bitty bit of fluff that popped into my head, set during the movie while Bruce is being held at Desert Base for observation and containment. Enjoy...and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hulk...cause, looking at it logically, where on earth would I keep him? Most of the credit goes to my darling Peter David for the movie companion novel.

Letting his mind wander was a dangerous pastime for Bruce Banner, but he was currently doing it anyway. Random memories skidded across his path of vision, numbing him to the rest of the world.

"Higher, 'kay?" He called to his father, and David Banner looked up at his son with a mixture of fondness and annoyance.

"Yeah, okay, Bruce." He called gruffly, much to the joy of the four year old who was currently pumping his legs furiously in an attempt to propel himself higher above the ground. David Banner settled his hand firmly on the small of the boy's back, giving him a rough shove that caused Bruce to laugh and the swing set itself to squeak. Banner watched as his son temporarily dotted out the fading sun with his tiny body as he happily clung to the sides of the swing. However, David Banner was a scientist, and he rarely engaged in any activity without a motive. Wrinkling his nose in disgust as the odor of Edith's meatloaf wafted out to him, Banner pushed his son again, this time considerably harder, sending the boy spiraling to the side a bit. Bruce shrieked with the uncontained glee that only a four year old can muster. The sound was inevitably going to give Banner a headache. He pushed the boy higher still, and this time Bruce looked a bit frightened.

"Slow down a little, Daddy." He called, biting his lip and turning his dark eyes to his father as he flew past. Banner chuckled impatiently, glancing at his watch. He had a few moments before Edith would be meddling about to call them for what she dubbed dinner. With one final shove he sent Bruce soaring into the air, in real danger of having his little weight flip him over completely. Bruce cried out, tiny hands fumbling for a tighter grip on the chain links on either side of him. Banner observed him coldly as fear crept into the boy's face, and he cried out again.

"Daddy!"

Daddy. What a perverse joke that was. Banner threw his entire weight into the last shove, and Bruce all but howled. David saw it begin, saw the boy's arms prick with tinges of what appeared to be goose bumps, except of course that goose bumps weren't usually tinged with green. Bruce was sobbing, one hand trying in vain to stop the swing. Banner watched with cold fascination as his son's arms seemed to strengthen, still howling. Banner had discerned from previous observation that the twisting muscle caused the boy some pain, but what was a little pain to a monster anyway? Bruce tried frantically to reach out for his daddy, because he was scared and he hurt and he wanted down. Daddy was leering at him, though, and little Bruce could only howl all the more as the pain in his arms and head increased, and instead of Mommy coming out from the sliding glass door it was a huge green monster, and why was Daddy still laughing?

And then David Banner's face melted into the face of Glenn Talbot, and his laughter stopped as bullets slammed into him, the Hulk feeling a surge of primal joy, and Bruce feeling sick with disgust because Talbot had died so fast that the mirth never had time to leave his eyes.

"Whoah. Bruce!"

Just like that, she did it again. Snapped him back into reality by just calling his name. Bruce Banner opened his eyes to meet the gaze of Betty Ross. She seemed as though she were far away and underwater, though, because her voice sounded muffled and was being drowned out by the insistent and increasing pounding reverberating through his skull. It was becoming very hard to think, and he could vaguely note the beginnings of an uncomfortable prickling all over his body. Betty's mouth seemed to be moving, yet no sound was able to penetrate his ears.

Cool it, Bruce, or you're really gonna lose it, right here in front of Betty. Again.

Then Betty's hands were on his back, kneading and massaging tensing muscles. Bruce took in a gasping breath, letting the relief flood through him and cleanse his mind. Betty worked gentle fingers over him, sighing.

Always so tense. That's his problem. Well, other than the years of repressed emotions, gamma ridden genes, and - well, okay, maybe being tense isn't gonna top the list.

"I didn't hear you come in." Bruce murmmured, sounding more hoarse than he realized.

"Mmmm. I'm a sneaky one." Betty replied, smiling softly as she felt the bunched up muscles relax, and the mottled green tint fade from Bruce's skin. He nodded absently, almost unconsciously leaning into her touch. She had in fact been watching him for a few moments, chewing on a respective fingernail in thought. Of course, when he started to tremble with some contained emotion, she had had to intervene before things turned catastrophic. So, progress wasn't exactly forthcoming. But Betty Ross was a determined sort of person, and she was currently determined to help him, and to love him, whether he liked it or not.

They were currently in Bruce's "cell" at Desert Base, and other different circumstances Betty might have found that being alone with Bruce would offer the opportunity to do things that would make her father blush, but seeing him huddled on a platonic little cot made her just plain sad. And the fact that it had been she that had landed him here did nothing for making her feel better. She was supposed to be getting Bruce to open up here, to get him release some of his bottled up emotions and to work out some of the psychological damage. But so far, he was the same old distant Bruce.

Hell, if I have to make him watch Titanic thirty times to get some emotion outta him, I will.

She secretly longed for the Bruce that had let her hold him in the rain outside her cabin, the Bruce that had let her care for him. The Bruce that hadn't been afraid to just be himself. Her heart twisted painfully when she realized that she had all but killed that Bruce by calling in her father, General "Thunderbolt" Ross. Bruce opened his eyes, and saw that Betty was wearing that look again.

"Hey..." He began, but found he had no idea what exactly to say. They sat there in silently for awhile, Bruce wondering, not for the first time, just what she was expecting out of him.

"So...are you sleeping okay?" She asked finally, when the silence had begun to border on uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Nightmares every so often, but I've had those since I was a kid." He answered honestly.

"Can you remember what happens in them?"

"No, just that they scare me. You know, in general."

"Oh." Betty nibbled on her bottom lip, considering this.

Good Lord, the man can't even remember his dreams.

She covered his hand with hers, and he jumped slightly.

Her perfume is nice.

Out of nowhere, all the memories and thoughts and things associated with Betty's perfume, with Betty, hit him, and Bruce felt the pure emotion clutching at his heart in a vise-like grip.

"Betty...I..." He wanted to tell her that she was his salvation, the one thing he could cling to, the only thing that was keeping him sane. The one thing that the Hulk could place as being good. She turned to meet his eyes, laughing softly at the irony of the whole situation.

"I know, Bruce. I know. You never were too good with words."

No kidding, Betty. I really love you.

She leaned in against him, and he held her tightly, burying his head in her hair.

Hair smells good, too. Now that's what I call the full package.

They sat there for awhile, both gaining some unseen strength from one another. Then Betty beeped loudly. No, not Betty, but Betty's little blue beta beeper.

Betty's blue beta beeper. Try saying that one five times fast.

Betty groaned loudly, clicking it of her belt with a flourish and sighing over dramatically. "Jesus, it's my dad again. I gotta go, but I'll be back tomorrow, ok? See if you can remember what you dream this time, Bruce. It might help with..." she looked around dejectedly, "all this." Bruce nodded, feeling surprisingly and pleasantly tired for once. "Plus? I'll bring ya' a cookie if you do. Chocolate chocolate chip, right?" Her voice cracked slightly, betraying her forced cheery smile.

"Yeah." He tried to smile for her, but he had to settle for laying back down on the cot, listening as the reinforced doors slid into place behind her.

Review, or I'll stake out your house with my pack of creepy dogs. I'll even put on the Mad Scientist Wig and all...