If you're reading this and could be triggered, PLEASE stop reading. This is more an analysis than an angsty fic, but reading can really trigger some people. -also typical disclaimers about not owning anything-
In retrospect, Bruce doesn't regret telling his teammates about his suicide attempt. He couldn't have ignored it forever. At the time he regretted it, the emotions that crossed the faces of his team bore into his sole and instantly made him wish he could take back the words he lashed out. The moment was etched into his mind with perfect clarity.
"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't. I know, I tried." The anger coursed through his veins as he fought an internal war to stay human. He had hoped to make an escape after that statement, to find a dark closet to focus on his breathing in peace, but he was surrounded. Much like the moments his father would lash out, the air seemed to diminish from the room as everyone's previous overlapping arguments went deathly silent. Tony stared in unblinking shock at the man he had spent the past few days working feverishly with, but now felt as though he knew nothing about. He understood the feeling of hopelessness, knew what it was like to be reckless and not care about death, but could never have considered pulling the trigger directly on himself. Steve looked at him a little less obvious about his reaction, but with his experience with the war he saw good men take their lives in reaction to the things they'd seen. The emotions he felt were not new, but it had been decades since they resurfaced. Guilt, fear, and anger, flared internally for a man he hardly knew. They were his team, he couldn't help but be protective.
Bruce took a step back crossing his arms defensively over his body realizing he had no way out and no choice but to expand. "I got low." He dropped his gaze and shrugged panicking internally but keeping a calm exterior. "I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guys spit it out." Rage began to lace the last words of his sentence as he looked up, starting to lose the control he had spent so much time trying to perfect. The reality crashed down as he told the story out loud for the first time, and actually heard it himself. Tony lowered his glaze ever so slightly while Cap looked through the man who began to show a hint of green. Eyeing the door he struggled greatly with the other guy, and losing a desperate battle within himself. The Director looked unfazed taking in the new information in the way he always did.
"So I moved on, I focused on helping other people, I was good." Natasha pursed her lips into an almost frown as she began to understand the mindset he had been in when he raised the gun and pressed it against the roof of his mouth. A kill shot, he was too smart for anything else. The doctor wouldn't risk the potential of surviving and sustaining brain damage. The ex-assassin had known the guilty feeling growing up. Eventually instead of taking her life, the choice she often wished she would have taken on nights where the guilt overcame her and in the time right before Clint had saved her by dragging her to Coulson, she tuned out her emotions and became a cold hearted killer. With a body count no one could even estimate, she submitted to S.H.I.E.L.D. and began working with a conscience again, her only focus on wiping the blood that dripped from her fingertips. Bruce was working towards that too.
So it's short I dunno if I even like it idk. I'd like to write more but I don't really have any ideas if you've got anything for me to continue, comment them!
