The note was in his pocket that morning. Steve tugged his clothes on in the dim morning light and felt something crinkle in his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper. Turning it over in his hands, he furrowed his brow. It gave no sign of who it was from, nor it's purpose for showing up in his pants. He reached for the door and, still studying the outside of the letter, he padded softly toward the kitchen, making sure to stay quiet for those who liked to sleep in.

Steve poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the small table next to Tony and Clint. They both gave him a drowsy nod, still snug in their early morning haze. Tony had the newspaper splayed out in front of him as he sipped his coffee, while Clint simply sat with his hands wrapped around his mug collecting all the warmth he could. No one spoke and the silence was welcome to all three. Steve turned his attention to the letter, unfolding it and he immediately recognized the handwriting. He found it strange that Dr. Banner would be writing him a letter.

Dear Steve,

I'm sorry. I'm truly, deeply sorry for what I'm about to do to you. I guess that's just what I do, though. Hurt people, I mean. It just had to be you.

Steve knit his brows together and looked up. What was Bruce getting at?

I'm also sorry for what I've done. And for what I didn't do. So many innocent people had to face something they couldn't beat. They tried. They all tried so hard to win. But, in the end they didn't. They just couldn't beat that wrecking force. You know how I know? I watched them. I watched him tear through their homes, their streets. I watched as they screamed and tried to run. They tried to escape. And what did I do? I watched. Nothing but watched. I watched through dead eyes as the innocent died. You know...I tried too. I did. I tried to break through. To stop. You can see how well that turned out. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop. Maybe it was because, deep down, I didn't want to stop. I don't know.

But, I tried, like all those innocent people. I was faced with a problem that was far beyond my means. It was so big, so huge that it crushed me. All this time, every moment, I'm being suffocated under this weight that only I can stop, only I can carry. It's so hard to see people like you, and Stark, and all the others waiting for me, reaching out, trying to help, because I know that there is nothing you can do for me. You can try, like everyone else, but you won't succeed either. And maybe that's the point of it all. That no matter how hard you try to save someone, or save yourself, you always end up losing. You always end up under too much weight. I remember the first time I met you all. I told myself not to get close. Not to let this group get to you. I guess that's just another thing I failed at because I let you in. Every single one of you. I let myself believe that maybe I could live a life that wasn't so bad. You all had your demons and I watched as you helped each other fight them. You were always there, too, Steve. For everyone. You were always the voice of reason, the comforter, the one that would make everything better. Steve, you were the thing that allowed me to believe in my little charade for as long as I have. I even thought I was happy for a time. Maybe, just maybe, I could even start a family after all this 'saving the world' crap was over. And you would be there. You would continue to help me when things got rough. Nothing romantic, don't misunderstand me, but a friend. A best friend. That's what you are to me. That what you all are to me. My best friends. Something I never thought possible. So, thank you. Thank you so much.

But, this game I was playing couldn't hold me up forever. I guess I knew that somewhere deep inside, too. I figured out a way to end it, and I'm finally going to do it. So, this is me saying goodbye. Goodbye to the game. Goodbye to the charade. Goodbye to that crushing weight. Goodbye to trying. Goodbye to watching. Goodbye to the screams. Goodbye to the streets and the homes. Goodbye to all those innocent people. Goodbye to apologies. Goodbye to hurting people. Goodbye to friends. Goodbye to Natasha, Clint, and Thor. Goodbye to Tony Stark. And finally, goodbye to you, Steven Rogers. You were the best friend I ever had.

With all the love a broken man monster can give,

Dr. Bruce Banner.

"Steve?" Tony's voice reached his ears. It was filled with concern. "Steve, what's the matter?"

Steve looked up, his vision blurry. "No..." his voice broke and the other two men exchanged worried glances. Neither knew what Steve had been reading, but it had made him tear up. Both had noticed, but silently agreed to leave him to his emotions until a ragged sob had ripped from his chest.

"Steve, what's wrong?" Clint eyed him from across the table.

"Bruce..." Steve ran his shaking hands through his hair nervously.

"What's wrong with Bruce?"

"This...this!" Steve shouted, shaking the paper in front of him. "It's...it's a..." he couldn't find the voice to finish his words. He bolted from his chair, taking off toward the doctor's bedroom. Tony and Clint regarded each other with confused expressions and followed Steve's footsteps. By the time they caught up with him, he was already at the door of Bruce's room, jiggling the locked doorknob. Steve swore under his breath as he tried, in vain, to open it.

"What's going on? What is that?" Tony snapped, pointing to the letter.

"It's a suicide letter!" Steve choked back tears and backed up a few steps. With one swift movement, he kicked in the door, and was inside looking for any sign of Bruce. The bed was neatly made and clothes were perfectly folded on a chair. Clint and Tony were right behind him, checking and rechecking every corner of the room.

"The bathroom," Tony said. All three heads turned to the closed door. Light flooded out from the crack under the door, and Steve vaulted over the bed to reach it. To his surprise, it was unlocked and he forced it open. Bruce sat in the corner of the wall, head lolled to one side.

"Bruce!" Steve shouted, his voice echoing in the small, titled bathroom. He dropped to his knees in front of the man, and grabbed his shoulders. Tears now streamed freely down his cheeks. "God, no...Please!" Steve shook him, trying to do anything to bring his friend back. "Please...no..." He shook him again, more violently this time. "Bruce..."

Bruce's eyes fluttered open and he squinted into the light as he tried to focus on the face in front of him.

"Bruce?" Steve said, frantically searching his friend's eyes.

"Steve?" Bruce's voice was low and it crackled when he spoke.

"Oh, thank God," Steve said, fear draining from his words.

"I...I couldn't do it..." Bruce said, tears welling in his eyes. "I just...couldn't do it." A painful sob burst out of his chest.

"Thank, God..." Steve breathed, pulling the doctor into a hard embrace. Bruce wrapped himself in the hug and relished in the sheer comfort it brought him. They sat there for a while, just making sure the other wouldn't leave. Tony and Clint stood in the door frame, watching with pained relief as the two held on to the other like they were clinging to life.

Maybe they are, Tony realized. He turned to Clint and he watched as he blinked back tears. Tony said nothing, but he placed a light hand on his shoulder. Clint turned to meet his gaze. He pressed his lips together and nodded. Tony return the nod and the both turned back to the two on the floor.

"Don't you ever even think about doing that again. Never, you hear?" Steve warned, but the menacing tone of the threat was lost in the wash of relief he felt.

"No, never again," Bruce promised. He realized now that what he had here, with the Avengers, was real.

There was no game.

There was no charade.

There was no reason to say goodbye.

A/N: I apologize. This was me, being a terrible person. Tell me how your feels are now. Go ahead, let me hear it. I was actually going to kill him...but then I couldn't. It was just too much.