Summary: A Betty/Bruce reunion.
Seeing Green
Chapter Two
Bruce stared up at the monstrous skyscrapers clouded in ash and soot, fire still raging in some of the once proud buildings. Ambulances and fire trucks were parked on every street; men dressed in red and yellow using long hoses to try and put out the fire, while others dressed in blue and white were helping those left bloodied and bruised from the battle. But more often then not, he noticed they were filling body bags.
He had awakened from his Hulk induced stupor disoriented, bits of concrete and plaster poking into his tender flesh. As usual with his transformation, his entire body ached. Tripling his size was agonizing—something that very few people knew. Although he had learned to tolerate the sensation with years of practice under his belt, it still was as terrifying and excruciating as it had been originally. It began in his face, the rapid sensation horrible, as if someone were stretching his skin without caring how much it hurt him and then spread to the rest of his body; bones manipulated horribly and mercilessly as they widened and lengthened. Soon after that, his breath became shallow, the feel of being light-headed luring him into the darkness.
Coming to, he had found himself confused about the reason explaining why he was where he was, until it all flooded back to him like a kick to the stomach. The destruction of the city was all too familiar to him, but this time was different. This time he woke up as Bruce. This time he was left to face the despair that he and his team had caused.
Voices could be heard from every direction. Women and children cried in despair, the unlucky moaned in agony, and those in uniform screamed to one another to be heard above the noise. This much activity worried him, seeing as the ambulances and fire trucks would have stayed hidden until they knew absolutely sure it was safe.
It was unsettling not knowing when the battle had ended. How long had he been unconscious? Had the Hulk been a factor in hurting these people? Where was his team?
Seeing as he so graciously fell from the sky in a fit of rage, he was lacking the communicative ear piece that Director Fury was so adamant about them wearing. This left him with no idea where his team was or how to find them.
Looking around he realized he didn't even know where he was.
Squeezing his eyes together, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustration beginning to settle in. If he had his glasses he was sure he could put a name to this blurry street…
"Excuse me, Sir," a voice called out, breaking his thought process. "Sir, I'm with the paramedics," she announced, grabbing onto his bare shoulder. "Can you hear me?"
Bruce's eyes shot open before nodding jerkily. "I'm fine," he managed, attempting to stand. "Really," he supplied when the woman held him down.
She let out a huff, clearly disbelieving. "Please, Sir, don't try to move."
Reluctantly he complied, the paramedic taking this opportunity to feel for any broken bones.
"So, uh, when did this all end?" Bruce asked, trying his best to be nonchalant. She gave him a look, one that he had seen many times before, one that questioned his mental health.
" 'Bout an hour ago," she replied slowly. "The men in the sky vanished after Iron Man disappeared into space." His eyes widened in fear, the look shocking the woman as she restrained herself from pulling away. "You sure ya alright?"
Bruce glanced up worriedly, searching the sky as if he would be able to see into the stars. "Yeah," he choked out, fear building in his chest.
She squeezed his shoulder, "Seems impossible, don't it? Men from space… if I hadn't seen it myself I'd of thought people were goin' crazy."
Bruce nodded; face still upturned towards the sky.
Minutes passed as she continued evaluating his body, neither speaking a word. "Well, ya a little beat up, but otherwise fine," she claimed. "And I think it best if you cleared out of the road." After that she was gone; off to help others.
Bruce nodded slowly, more to himself then her retreating figure, but his legs wouldn't work to get him out of the way. He told them to move, tried to get up, but it just wasn't working.
He slumped forward, defeated.
It seemed as though hours had passed by before exhaustion finally took hold, memories of a woman with curly brown hair, a freckled nose, and gentle hands filling his mind.
"How do ya know if you're gonna go to heaven or not?" Bruce had asked her one morning.
They were lying in the soft grass of the backyard, his head cradled in her lap, her fingers combing through his hair so much like her own. Father was out, so it was just the two of them. He loved days like this, where his mother was real with him. No fighting or yelling, just the two of them saying what they really thought.
She had spoken to him of the impossibly white clouds, the angles and their wings, the shining gold gates, and of a nice old man with a white beard. At six, heaven sounded lovely. A place so pristine, where yelling and screaming and crying never accrued. He dreamed of going to such a place, a place where he and his mother could live without his mean father.
His gaze shifted from the blue, cloudless sky up to his mothers face. She was looking down at him in surprise, her hair that he loved twisting in his fingers so much moving with the wind.
"Well, in your life, if you're good and generous and caring you'll be guaranteed a spot," she explained, her voice soft and warm. "But mostly you have to be patient."
"Patient?"
She smiled brilliantly. From then on Bruce thought she looked best when her teeth were showing. "Mhmm. Being patient is like…waiting for your cartoons on Saturday mornings. You would have to sit through the infomercials without a single complaint or whine before the cartoons."
Bruce's eyes turned to saucers at this. "You can't say a thing?" he exclaimed in disbelief.
Laughing, she nodded. "Not even a peep; that's what patience is."
His face glazed over in understanding.
"Are you patient with father?" He ventured after minutes of content silence.
Her hand stilled. Bruce had noticed she was real quiet when he asked about father.
Rebecca Banner sighed, tension winding around her body. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm always patient."
Bruce moved so he sat upright in her lap. "Then why does he always get so angry?"
A sad smile, "Well, because he lacks patience."
"And why's that?" he questioned, brows knit together.
"Lots of reasons; he wants too much, he's easily frustrated, he can't stand it if something doesn't go his way—if someone doesn't do or say exactly what he wants them to."
"Oh…" he spoke, his voice small.
"What is it, Honey?"
"Do you think if you and me are more patient he'll stop hitting us?"
Rebecca gave a sob, Bruce instantly becoming upset.
"Mama," he whined, "Mama what's wrong? Please don't cry. I don't like it when you cry!"
"I know," she responded, pulling him into a tight hug. "I know," her hand ran up and down the length of his small back, "I'm sorry."
Pulling back, she found herself reflected in his shinning eyes. Eyes exactly like his fathers. She took his small, round face in her hand and softly shook her head, tears falling from her eyes.
"But… but if we're patient he won't… he won't have a reason to be mean!"
"I wish that were the case, baby." Her voice took on a determined edge, eyes flashing. "But I want you to listen to me and listen good; we're gonna get out of here, you and me. One day we're gonna pack up and drive to Indiana or Illinois. I promise."
"Just you and me?" he queried, looking up through his eyelashes.
She nodded, a brilliant smile stretching on her face despite the tears that continued to fall.
It was in that moment, that for the first time ever, Bruce felt hope.
It was memories like this that held him through the disarray and loneliness that came with his life. Even before the gamma radiation. But especially now, bruised, battered, and half naked, he wished for nothing more than the comfort she gave; the reassurance that everything would be okay.
But there would be none of that, he knew. Not with the destruction of the city and the stunt he pulled back on the hella-carrier.
Or so he thought.
"Bruce!" a voice called. He lifted hid head, blinking quickly, desperate to find the voice that seemed to know him. Through the dissipating grey and black clouds he spotted Steve, looking around with a pale face.
"Steve," he called, his voice strained.
The star-spangled man ran forward, wrapping his arms tight around the scientist. At Bruce's sharp hiss of pain, he loosened his hold, concerned, as his eyes sweeping over his friend. His legs were scraped and dirty; blood both dried and liquid sprouting from his knees, while hues of purple and yellow had blossomed on his chest and back. His pant's—or lack of—were torn, barely concealing his lower body. In short he was a wreck, something completely disconcerting with the usually soft spoken and put together man.
"So did we win?"
Steve swallowed, his throat dry. "Yeah… I guess you could say we did. But, uh, we… we lost an agent."
Bruce's heart dropped to his stomach, "Tony…?"
"No," he supplied quickly, shaking his head. "It was Coulson… he, uh…Loki got to him. He died when you were… out of touch."
"Oh." That was all he could say in return. He had never met the man before S.H.E.I.L.D came after him unlike all those around him. He had never been friends with the man, yet there was a sense of loss. This was a man who provided his life for the job he loved so much. Bruce knew the agent would be missed be friends and co-workers, but what about family? Did he have a family to miss him? Would there be a little boy or girl growing up without a dad, or a mother who would have the agony of dieing after her son? It was terrible.
"So is everyone else… alright?" Bruce continued.
Steve gave him a look, "How much do you remember as the Hulk, Doctor?"
It was a strange question.
"Barely anything, why?"
"Well, you're the reason—or the Hulk is—that we only loss one agent today." Bruce tried to give an incredulous stare but with how exhausted and lost he was, it probably looked as though he was constipated. Taking a deep breath, Steve was staring at the floor as if he was seeing it all again. "He saved Tony, Bruce. The Hulk caught him."
"Caught?"
The soldier nodded, cracking a smile, "You're going to have a lot of catching up to do."
Looking around the destruction of the city, Bruce couldn't agree more.
A/N: Ahh! Long time no see... I have so much more already written that i'm currently rewriting, so yes there will be more to come. I wanted to give you something to read though, so here we are.
And yes, the Hulk was present when they captured Loki. But this is my version of the story so that really doesn't matter. Anyway, sorry for the slow update! I had to rewrite this chapter four times which was a big pain in the ass, but I needed it to be perfect. I even revised the first chapter. So, I'm a slow updater, but your reviews were awesome, giving me motivation! I didn't think anyone would ever read this, so thank you from the bottom of my heart! Also, I'm still maintaining 3—6 chapters total in this story.
Thanks for reading! Please, please, please review!
