Chapter 1

The cabin was simple, but fully matched his few needs. The beat up old truck on in the shed allowed him to make trips to the local convenience store once or twice a week – although 'local' may have been pushing it. The trip took about an hour one way.

He hadn't rejected Tony's offer of relocating to the Stark Tower, with its candyland of laboratory luxury, but after the battle in New York he needed some down time. Space to reflect on the fact that he had been able to help. That he hadn't been an additional nightmare in the ravaging of the city that Loki had caused.

He promised that he would be back. If nothing else, it was highly likely that Tony would show up at the cabin one day if the billionaire thought he was taking too long. Tony liked having someone to play with.

The red dust had settled on his truck on the way to the small store. Stretching his back, Bruce walked towards the rugged store front, reviewing his purchase list in his head. Even if you took the scientist out of the lab, you couldn't take the tendency to wander in your own head out of the scientist. This may be why he didn't so much walk through the door as slam the door into the woman on the other side.

For such a rickety door, the force with which it threw her on the floor was surprising. The fact that she was walking with a crutch probably contributed to the almost slapstick fall of the woman, as well as the fairly vocal groan of either pain or surprise that continued when she lay still on the floor.

'Shit, I'm so sorry, are you ok?' Bruce immediately sprung towards the fallen woman, and the hand he stretched out was in no way tentative. He didn't touch people in general, but the clinical touch of a doctor didn't burn his senses. His hand hovered over her shoulder, then her knee when he saw how her body bent and her own hands covered her left knee.

"Fuck!" The fallen woman was bent on one side, apparently not getting up in a hurry.

After a few seconds of looking at her stiff face and closed eyes, Bruce gently tried to remove her clutching fingers from the area.

"Don't clutch it, try to relax the joint. Just breathe for a minute and then maybe I can take a look? Please?"

"Who the fuck are you?" The woman still hadn't opened her eyes, and was speaking through clenched teeth.

"Sorry, I'm Bruce. I'm the guy who tossed you on the floor – and a doctor, which helps when I have to patch up my victims." His voice was a little hoarse, partly from the adrenaline and partly from the fact that he hadn't talked to another person for about eight days.

At this, the woman open first one, then the other eye. She didn't look any happier, but let her hands fall from her leg and slowly sat up – careful not to move her left leg any more than necessary.

"Yeah, I imagine that comes in handy. Just – give me a second, ok?" She took a few deep breaths, then stretched out her hand towards Bruce. "Gimme a lift, lets start there, ok?"

Bruce took her hand and put his other on her elbow for added stability. Her eyes closed for a second as she heaved herself up, but no more groans made it passed her lips.

"I'm, I'm really sorry, I wasn't looking – lets get you outside, there is a bench out there." Bruce glanced at her crutch still on the floor, but decided it would have to wait as there was little chance for her to make it to the bench by herself. The crutch was well used – it didn't look like a temporary loan from a hospital.

"No worries, I fall down all on my own on a regular basis." Once they reached the bench, she sat down with a small sigh and looked up at Bruce apologetic face. "It's nice to have someone to blame this time."

Bruce gave a small half smile at this, and sat down beside her. "Bruce Banner, available scapegoat. Who do I have the pleasure of maiming today?"

"I'm Keene. Look, thanks for helping me sit, but I'll be fine in a bit. If you could just fetch my crutch, I won't keep you." She waived her hand towards the waiting walking aid.

Bruce picked up the crutch, but stopped as he turned back to her. "How long have you been using it? I can't imagine there are many physical therapists here?" He was a little surprised by his bluntness – he wasn't usually one to ask personal questions, so as to not receive any back.

Her eyes met him and narrowed before giving a little sight. "About six months. It's an insurance thing. Physical therapy not covered." Her answer was short and to the point.

Bruce took a closer look at her. Despite the warm weather, she was wearing a baggy blue sweater as well as a bright red scarf. Her eyes were clear and blue, but the smudges under her eyes revealed tiredness stretched over many days, if not weeks or months. He hesitated, but the responsibilities of a doctor won out.

"I wasn't kidding about being a doctor. I really would feel a lot better if I could get a look at your leg. If I made something worse, it's going to be a while before you have a chance to get it checked out." He looked into her eyes and tried to convey both stubbornness and guilt. The guilt part wasn't very hard – he had that down pat.

Keene was quiet and her blue eyes were studying him, making him squirm a little where he stood. Those blue eyes were filled with wariness and suspicion, making him try once more.

"Look, can you honestly say you can drive right now with your leg like this? I'm an hour away, and I can flash the store clerk my ID precluding any chance of you disappearing with a stranger and not returning."

"Well, I hadn't thought of that, but thanks for highlighting the risks of going anywhere with you." Her smile was wry, but he could see that she was considering it.

"I have beer." He tried another smile, and was rewarded with more warmth creeping in to hers.