A/N: I'm really new to this, so... hope you like it.

"So I bet that went well," Tony said, leaning on a doorframe.

Bruce stopped packing away the last of his stuff to look at his friend in confusion.

"I mean, I always took you for the cautious, take-it-slow type, and damn... moving in after one date... must be true love," the man smirked.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce furrowed his brow, still trying to understand.

"I'm talking about Miss Elisabeth 'Smart and Hot' Ross," Tony said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought you two had a date today. Sort of a reunion thing..."

"It wasn't exactly..."

"Oh, come on! Did she rush to your side and lock you in a passionate embrace the moment she saw you..."

"No, she's..."

"...Did she cry? 'Cause I'm sure she did," Tony's smirk became even wider as he went on, not even bothering to notice his friend's attempts at objection. "You know these girls - they're all tough and stoic 24/7, but a single glimpse on their long-lost co-workers and, believe me..."

"Tony..." Bruce tried again.

"...they'll burst into tears. And next thing you know - they're confessing their everlasting love for..."

"She's getting married."

Tony stopped talking as suddenly as he began. Bruce could tell that he tried to keep his expression carefully blank, but there was pain in billionaire's eyes and quiet compassion that he couldn't quite hide.

"Oh," was all he managed to say at first. "Sorry, I guess."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Bruce said tiredly as he resumed the packing. "It's for the best anyway."

"That so?"

Bruce stopped for a moment and sighed quietly, looking over the empty shelves of his room. He realized with some sadness that it wasn't that way because he was leaving - they were like that all the time he stayed at the Tower. Bruce simply had nothing to put there. Even most of the clothes that were now in his backpack were given to him by Tony Stark.

"He's a good man, and she's happy with him. Normal. Safe. That's everything I ever wanted for her," Bruce finally said.

"Yeah, what about yourself?" Tony asked.

What, really? If anything, Bruce wanted to feel bitter. And jealous. He wanted to blame her, to be disappointed and to regret. Instead he just felt... nothing. He wasn't even that surprised: somewhere deep down he knew it would turn out like this. Things always turned out like this.

It almost disturbed him. Almost.

"I don't always get what I want," was all he said to Tony.

The man snorted under his breath.

"Do you ever?"

The question sounded almost like a challenge, angry and sad at the same time, it was meant to provoke Bruce, to irritate him, maybe. But, as with the sharp pointer incident back at the Helicarrier two weeks ago, it didn't register as offensive in Bruce's mind. It was... really amusing. In a 'it's funny because it's true' sort of way.

"Yeah," he chuckled, repeating the question over and over in his head. Do I ever? "You got me here."

The look on Tony's face told him that the billionaire didn't find it in the least bit funny. His eyes darkened as he realized what was really going on. He shifted a little, as if subconsciously trying to block the way out of the room.

"Were you ever gonna tell me you're leaving?"

Another challenge. More angry than sad this time.

"Actually, I was about to go look for you," Bruce replied.

"I'm here now."

It was harder than he imagined it would be.

"I'm leaving, Tony," Bruce said evenly. "Not sure where to. Somewhere distant, I guess. Somewhere... else."

Anywhere else. Some faraway, god-forsaken place with insufferable climate, crowded streets and language he could not understand. Where he doesn't know anyone and no one knows him. No one watches him. No one cares.

"Is this 'cause of..."

"No," Bruce shook his head. "It was just... a lucky coincidence..."

A lucky coincidence.

He winced slightly at his horrible choice of words, but then went on: "I've been meaning to leave right after the big battle, but... decided to give it a chance, I don't know. And now... I just need to go. That's it," Bruce simply stated.

And that was absolutely true. He needed to go. To get out, to run, to hide. To be away. To clean and dress wounds, to put in stitches and treat infections. He needed his legs sore and his back stiff from kneeling over the sick and the dying, his hands dark from the mud and the blood that refused to wash out, his head heavy and his mind numb from the work. He missed it, the rhythm and the tension, the liberating inability to think and to care - all the wonderful things that being a doctor in some backwater third-world city brought with it.

And right now he needed it, needed to quiet the dull hum in the back of his head, to stop the black tide that threatened to overwhelm him every time he took a breath. Those deep cold waters that he thought he had already crossed.

I was okay. What changed?

But he knew the answer. There it was simple, it was tough, but manageable, acceptable. It was hard to feel the victim in a place of desperation and misery made flesh. It was easy to feel... good.

But now, here, the old fears came up to the surface and the old hatred slipped slowly in the back of his head, where peace used to be. Self-loathing was a powerful drug, and on the days like this, when the ocean seemed to be ready to swallow him whole, only the thoughts of escape kept him from surrendering to it once again. He needed to deal, but all he wanted was to be left alone.

God, he was so weak.

His friend's low voice brought him out of his reverie. It was even and oddly quiet, barely above a whisper. "You don't have to do this, you know," Tony said, not looking at Bruce. His expression was completely unreadable now.

"Oh no, I have," Bruce said, his tone matching Tony's, and zipped his backpack shut. "God knows, I tried..."

"Well, maybe you didn't try hard enough," it was more of an accusation now, and billionaire's dark eyes were fixated on Bruce. "Look, I know, your life here..."

"I don't have a life here," the scientist interrupted calmly, putting the backpack over his shoulder. "Or anywhere for that matter. It's... how it will be for as long as I live, I guess. I've come to accept that."

There, he said it. Now Tony does not need to worry for Bruce to do anything stupid. Suicide... was just another form of a cure, and he had already given up on that delusion. Sometimes he wondered still, how much time exactly did he have, considering the other guy's healing factor and the will to survive as strong as his muscles... Will the other guy die of Banner's old age? Or of his own? Can any of them even die of old age anymore? Bruce certainly aged, but he wasn't so sure about his counterpart. If no, then when the time comes, will his conscience simply fade away as the other guy took over for good in that one last transformation? Or will it be forever trapped inside monster's head? Those thoughts kept Bruce up at night far more often than he would've liked.

But it wasn't important right now. Letting out a quiet sigh, Bruce moved to the door and out of the room, ignoring his friend's stiff posture still leaning on the doorframe. He heard Tony speak just as he passed him in the doorway.

"You're a fucking mess, Banner," Tony said, turning to face him, voice hollow and soft.

Bruce gave him a weak smile and wanted to keep going down the corridor when a thought struck him, making him stop in his tracks and look the other man in the eye. Do I ever?

"I did, you know."

"What?"

"Get what I want for once," Bruce elaborated. "There was this one time I wanted someone to understand it. Not like, not trust, just simply to understand," he said, and there was probably even some emotion in his voice now, under all the tiredness and apathy. "I remember it was a rainy night, and I was out of sleep pills and I thought: 'A single person would be enough'... I think I got it, you know."

He saw disbelief flicker in his friend's eyes.

"Why don't you keep it then?"

Why, really? It was the simplest question.

"Because I'll break it."

"Don't be ridiculous, it's tougher than it looks," Tony said, and the look in his eyes was so intense, his voice so full of conviction it was almost too much for Bruce. Some people were just so much better than him. So much... stronger.

He could not believe that this incredible man actually considered him, Bruce, worthy of all this emotion, all this effort. Considered him a friend.

Things never turned out like that for him. They just didn't.

"No," he replied. "No, it's not. It's very fragile under all those layers of metal it puts between itself and the world. But maybe," his gaze became distant for a moment, that small wry smile crooking his lips again, "maybe that's what makes it work."

Bruce sees Tony's facade crack at that. Sadness is clearly visible now, along with helplessness and something else Bruce couldn't quite place. Something like... regret?

"I just wanted to help," his friend said. Soft and calm. And I still do, buddy. Let me.

"You did, more than you can imagine. Thanks..." Bruce extended his hand and Tony shook it. This isn't the end.

"...and goodbye." This is.

With that, Bruce Banner turned and went down the corridor to where the elevators were.

Silence followed him.