His dreams, when they occur, are broken little things. Jagged edges of color and movement perform between torn curtains, a soundtrack of emotions accompanying each second.
They're not honest dreams, as it were. More like memories.
(He's not sure he wants to remember, really.)
When he finally comes to, there's a slender, gloved hand gripping his own, a red cloud resting on his chest.
He chuckles a bit, and she starts.
"Bruce!" Her eyes are red, almost as if she had been worried over him.
(And the idea that she might care about him makes the pain in his chest worth it.)
Before he can say a word, she's up and ushering in the others. They all give their own greetings, saddled with relieved smiles, and he can't get a syllable in edgewise.
(He's not sure what he'd say, anyway.)
"I knew you'd wake up, Jolly Green," comes from Clint, and Natasha swipes him along the back of the head.
The woman herself wraps her arms around his shoulders and squeezes tentatively. "I thought you were going to-" She cuts off, breath irregular, and he pats her on the back. When she pulls away, her eyes are steel. "If you do anything like that again, I'll kill you myself."
Phil's greeting is heralded by a bottle of water shoved into one hand, a chocolate-chip cookie in the other. A smile, "Welcome back, Soldier."
Thor is overbearing as always, arms full of what look to be gifts. "Banner, you've awoken! I'm told that it is Midgardian tradition to give gifts when a friend is ill. Baked goods, stuffed creatures, and flowers seem to be the most common, but I was not sure what you preferred, so I applied-"
"He got a bit of everything," Clint supplies, "But, may I say, the man can bake."
(If the cookie is any indication, he'll have to agree.)
When Steve enters, his smile is a bit more worried than relieved, and his eyes are pinched with anxiety.
(Bruce is reminded of the reality of his being so young as well as so old.)
A nod, "Good to see you awake."
(He had actually expected less than that.)
He takes a breath, eyes the door, and waits for the supernova.
He's going to be surprised anyway, he knows, when Tony walks through the door with a smile like the sun and eyes to match, and offers him a handful of blueberries.
(Always blueberries.)
He's confused when it never comes.
"Tony?" He asks, and Natasha grips his hand again, tighter.
That's enough to send him into a panic, as his heart starts to race, and he can practically feel the green burn into his eyes.
"Cap," He begins, and Steve flinches at the name, "Tony?"
"I'm sorry," Comes the muttered reply, "We found his suit-"
(Nonononono not Tony, please.)
Natasha removes her hand, the only grounding he has right now, and her voice is choked with tears but still so professional.
"Iron Man Mark 42 was found crushed, pieces contaminated with human blood and a radioactive green liquid."
He feels his eyes burn as eyes burn into him, and the heart monitor beside him goes crazy.
He never Hulks out.
Instead, he sobs.
Natasha doesn't try to touch him, this time.
(He almost wishes she would, because he could almost pretend she was Betty and this was all a nightmare.)
When Clint hands him a familiar grey t-shirt, he refuses to let go.
(It smells like oil and rubbing alcohol and lemons, and he hugs it to his chest as he lets out a stifled little scream.)
His dreams have always been more like nightmares, but now he thinks he would give anything to remember them.
(Because even watching himself kill his best friend would give him an extra few seconds to remember him by.)