DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avengers or any other character or setting in the Marvel universe (cinematic or otherwise)!

Chapter 1

BHBHB

Bruce sat on a hideously tacky floral patterned couch in an equally hideously tacky waiting room. A recliner and love seat with matching floral patterns sat around a dark wood coffee table covered in neatly piled magazines. A flat screen television was mounted over a small fire place, volume of some weather channel turned low. Leafy fake potted plants filled the corners and large prints of famous oil paintings filled what walls weren't covered in bookcases full of knick-knacks and decorations. There were softly glowing antique lamps on small side tables at the ends of the couches and next to the recliner.

It was meant to feel like you were at home. Cozy.

Maybe if you still lived in the sixties.

This room didn't pull off the feeling of cozy all that well. It tried too hard. It felt cramped and stuffy. Neither of which Bruce liked. Bad things happened when he felt cramped and stuffed in a room with too many breakable objects.

The room didn't even have any windows.

That was probably because it was underground… Yet another thing that Bruce didn't like. Confinement under miles of dirt in a small cramped and stuffy room full of breakable objects with no way out.

"Breath… Just breath." He inhaled deeply in through his nose then exhaled slowly out through his mouth. A breathing exercise he learned to master many years ago. It was one of the easiest ways to stop himself from getting too worked up.

He had to keep calm. Losing control now would make coming here useless. He spent hours working to keep himself from getting too agitated. He didn't want to draw the attention of the other guy with a too fast pulse because he was getting claustrophobic.

That was the last thing he wanted.

Honestly, he didn't know how his connection to the Hulk worked. Could he hear what Bruce heard? See what he saw? Or did he only come out when Bruce was in danger or when an emotion, like anger, was particularly strong? Did he have any idea what Bruce was thinking?

It must be reactions to danger and emotional triggers, things that get his adrenaline moving. Otherwise Bruce wouldn't be here in the first place. If he was aware of anything Bruce thought, the other guy would make himself in charge of Bruce's body long ago. Never let him near places like this, ever.

Oh boy, if the Hulk had the slightest idea what was about to happen…

The sound of the door quietly whooshing open caught Bruce's attention. He looked up to see Natasha, the notorious Black Widow, standing in the doorway, the harsh light of the hallway casting her into shadows. But her eyes still showed a brilliant green. They looked at Bruce coolly.

"It's ready."

Natasha wasn't one for niceties or easing anyone's nerves. Why beat around the bush? It just wasted time. Though Bruce wouldn't mind a little encouragement but he'd get nothing but the truth from Natasha. He didn't want to risk losing his nerve if it turned out that she thought it a bad idea for him to go through the procedure.

"Let's go, then." Bruce said, getting up to follow Natasha into the hallway. He left the ugly room behind with its stifling forced coziness. He should have just waited in the hallway. It was much better lighted and looked how it was meant to be, efficient and functional. Its walls white and floors gray; the only other features being black painted doors and the small plagues next to them indicating what was hidden away. It wasn't trying to hide its nature under tacky floral patterns and little crystal figurines.

Natasha and Bruce walked in silence. The two didn't exactly meet on the best of terms. Considering that he almost killed her when he Hulked-out when the Helicareer was under attack. But after many battles and time to get to know each other, they knew they could trust each other, rely on each other.

Which is way he came to her for this particular favor in the first place.

They turned a corner then walked down another long hallway. They stopped in front of a door, indistinguishable from the rest. Its little plaque read 'Lab 23-H'. Labs… it felt like he's spent so much of his life going from one lab to another. Both as the experimenter and experimented.

Natasha reached for the door handle but stopped short when Bruce gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked over her shoulder with a questioning raise of her brow.

"Thanks, for doing this for me."

She shrugged a shoulder. "It's something you believe you have to do." She turned back then opened the door.

He knew that there was nothing in it for her. She didn't have to help him out like this. If anything, she could get into a lot of trouble smuggling in a fugitive into her place of employment, one of the many places that want to capture him in the first place.

Maybe their friendship meant something to the stoic agent, enough to put herself and job in danger.

The lab was large, with a high ceiling. The walls were lined with state of the art machinery with their flashing lights and soft humming. At the center sat a long padded person-shaped table. Leather straps hung loosely from it. It reminded him of unpleasant memories of a lab at a college campus with lower quality machines that needed a good kick to get started.

That day had ended really badly.

Another door opened on the left side of the room, revealing Clint Barton, the sharpshooting Hawkeye. He smirked slightly, nodding in greeting. "Nat, Dr. B."

He crossed the room to stand with Bruce and Natasha. He stuck his hands into his pockets. How such a tight fitting leather suit could have pockets, Bruce would never know.

Clint was a bit of an oddball. Which really wasn't saying much considering who made up the Avengers. But what he meant was that Clint didn't instantly fear or dislike the Hulk. If Bruce didn't think it utterly ridiculous, he'd say Clint had a bit of an infatuation with the other guy.

"Welp, everything's ready. Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Clint didn't sound imploring, like he was trying to stop him. He just wanted to know. He would support him no matter his decision. Clint wasn't supposed to be helping fugitives sneak into secret agencies to make use of their labs without permission either.

Bruce really appreciated what these two were doing for him.

Bruce nodded. "I'm sure." He sounded a lot more confident than how he felt. But his resolve was still set. He had to do this. He couldn't afford to get cold feet now.

Clint smiled slightly, his tone light. "No more going on crazy adventures, you know."

Bruce smiled in return. "Yeah, I know."

That was the hardest part about his decision. He wouldn't be a part of the Avengers anymore. He'll be nothing more than a civilian. He wouldn't be able to help in battle or much outside of battle. Their wild card would be gone and he doubted anyone would really need a radiology expert around.

"No more punching Thor in the throat." Clint's piecing blue eyes were teasing.

"I think he'll be okay with that." Bruce grinned at that. He's never been present at all but one of these incidents but he's heard of the stories about Hulk beating up on Thor. The other guy just didn't seem to like the God of Thunder.

"No more me finding you passed out in nothing but a pair of shredded pants in random places." Clint sighed wistfully. "I'll miss that the most."

Bruce chuckled lightly. "I'll bet you would." Clint's light-hearted joking helped a lot to settle his nerves. It eased the tight feeling in his chest.

"If you're finished flirting, it's time." Natasha had moved over to the table.

Clint sighed then placed a comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. "Welp, you heard the boss."

"Thanks, Clint… For this," Bruce gestured vaguely around the room, "for helping me."

Clint simply shrugged. "It's what bros do for each other." He moved to stand on the opposite side of the table from Natasha.

Bruce nodded. His throat constricted painfully. He used every ounce of self-control he had not to turn around and bolt. It took a lot of an effort but he did it, with the help of some breathing exercises. Being strapped down and poked with all kinds of needles wasn't something he looked forward to. It always ended in pain and someone getting hurt, or even killed when he Hulks out.

But he had to do it.

Bruce pulled off his shirt then lay down on the cushioned table. The leather was so cold against his back; it almost felt like it was burning his skin. He stared intently at the ceiling as the straps were being locked into place at his arms and legs. Maybe if he didn't see them he could pretend they weren't there.

Natasha and Clint came into his line of vision. Both of their faces blank of any emotion. No more dilly dallying.

It was time to proceed.

BHBHB

Bruce woke up to a painful throbbing in his head. It pounded unmercifully behind his eyes. It felt like he had been hit by a Mac truck; several times over. He rubbed the heels of his palms at his eyes in hopes of easing the pain, but it didn't help any. Unwilling to get up, Bruce snuggled into his pillows. Maybe more sleep would make the headache go away…

It took several seconds before he figured out that he was in a rather comfortable bed in a dark room, the room that was given to him at Avengers Tower (nee Stark Tower). It took several more seconds before he figured out why he was in his room and not in the last place he was conscious.

Clint and Natasha smuggling him into S.H.I.E.L.D…

The ugliest waiting room he's ever been in…

The lab and its machinery and terrible leather clad table…

The procedure…

Headache long forgotten, Bruce slowly pushed away his covers, carefully sitting up on the edge of his bed. He just stayed there, unmoving. Not quite ready to let what he had done completely process through his mind. He didn't want to jump the gun and get too excited. In case it didn't work out.

After a long moment of careful breathing he finally released the floodgates of his mind.

What if it did work? What if it actually worked? What if all that painstaking research he's been doing for months had actually worked? He could finally be free. Free to live a normal life. He wouldn't have to hide or run. He could find a stable job and live in one place for the rest of his life. He could do whatever he wanted.

But like any good scientist, he had to test his theory to make sure it worked.

"Jarvis?" Bruce asked softly. His voice sounded hoarse, like he had been overusing it from screaming. Had he screamed? Probably. The procedure wasn't exactly made to be painless. And he was a little fuzzy on the details right now.

"Yes, sir?" The AI answered crisply.

"Is the green room free?"

"Yes sir, it is."

"Thanks."

"Not a problem, sir."

The 'green room', oh so cleverly named by Tony, was essentially a reinforced playroom for the other guy. Whenever Bruce felt like he might transform, he could go to that room and smash around a bit and cool off. No one got hurt and the other guy got his anger out. No harm done.

But as hard as he tried, Bruce couldn't think of it as nothing more than a cage. He knew that's not what Tony meant by it but… he just couldn't help that feeling. Especially with how through the locking mechanism was for the room. He didn't want his life to be nothing more than moving from one cage to another.

But right now it was the perfect place to do his experiment.

Bruce quickly changed into something he wouldn't miss too much, a worn out t-shirt and loose fitting trousers. In case the experiment went wrong, and then hurried to the green room.

The room was large. Larger than any other room he's see in the building. The steel-plated walls stretched up to meet a high steel-plated ceiling. Lights were set into the ceiling with shatter-proof glass coverings. Even the floor was reinforced with steel-plating.

This room was built to take a beating. A beating from a giant green rage monster.

It had plenty of smashing material too. From hallowed out car bodies to old furniture.

Steve had made a feeble attempt to make it a little bit more appealing with murals of green meadows and blue skies but that just made the other guy angry and try to scratch and punch off all the paint.

A patch of bright blue sky was still left high up on one of the walls. Bruce used that as a focal point. He stepped under it, staring at it intently. Then he did what he did best; he got angry.

He released all the pent up, carefully controlled emotions he's built up. Years of constant fear, anger, anguish, loneliness. Fear of losing control, anguish over all the deaths he's caused, all the times he's spent alone because he was afraid of hurting the ones he cared most about. Every last emotion he turned into fuel for the rage the other guy fed off of.

But nothing happened.

The world didn't tinge green as the other guy took control. No loss of awareness. No sounds of ripping clothes. No angry roars. Nothing.

He picked up a broken piece of wood. It might have been a chair in a previous life. He tossed it as hard as he could at the wall. It split into a few pieces before bouncing across the floor. He tossed a few more pieces of broken things he could find. He yelled. But still, he didn't Hulk-out.

He dropped down onto the floor, panting. "I did it. I can't believe it… I did it." He chanted it over and over again. He crossed his arms over his knees and then dropped his head onto his arms. He was trembling all over. The joy he felt made it hard to breathe.

He actually succeeded in extracting the Hulk.

BHBHB