Bruce was used to internal battles, but this time, the Other Guy was nowhere in sight, and Bruce was stuck battling with himself. In a lot of ways, battling with the Other Guy was easier, because at least then he knew which side was right.

"I can't believe he left," he said, sitting down heavily on the couch. Because if there was one thing that could be said about Tony, it was that he never went down without a fight. Bruce had expected yelling. Hell, he'd expected to be dragged back to New York kicking and screaming, because Tony never gave up on things this easily.

He reminded himself that this was a good thing. It was easier, and less painful, and he should never have let himself get this attached to another person in the first place. From the start, everything about Tony had thrown him off guard. He didn't seem to be scared of the Other Guy, and Bruce needed that, craved the connection that could only form when people weren't on tiptoes around you all the time.

Tony was sober now. For some reason, this tidbit of information stuck in his mind, and made him miss Tony more than he had in the past 42 days. Bruce thought about drinking the Scotch he'd taken from Tony's dresser when he left (the Scotch that he wasn't supposed to know about,) but he needed to think. Besides, the bottle was already half empty, and there would be more bad nights.

Bruce didn't trust anyone. Before the Gamma radiation, this hadn't been true, but now—now he'd had one too many experiences with people leaving. Trust was a luxury for people who were more human and less broken than Bruce. But even if he did trust people, he probably wouldn't have trusted Tony. Tony just wasn't the kind of person you put your trust in. He flitted from project to project, totally devoted to each one until he wasn't anymore. You'd have to be crazy to trust Tony Stark, and if there was one thing Bruce wasn't, that was crazy.

He stood up and stretched, then moved to the lumpy cot off to the side of the room. He needed to get back to sleep; he was working tomorrow.

Tony tasted like Scotch, searing Bruce's mouth as their tongues mapped out each others lips. He wanted to go deeper, explore Tony until they knew each other inside and out. His brain was fuzzy from Scotch he hadn't even been drinking, and he wondered if he'd wake up with a hangover.

As it turned out, the bar near where Bruce lived had exceptionally good beer. He wondered why he'd never come here before. Of course, he had to be careful how much he drank, but the Other Guy didn't seem to be any more of a threat than usual.

He'd left home tonight because he needed to get away. If it had just been alcohol he needed, there was still that bottle of Scotch, but what he was really looking for was a distraction. He wasn't sure yet whether it was working.

A woman sat down next to him, smiled, and ordered a martini. She reminded him of someone else he used to know. After several minutes, she spoke. "Who was she?"

Bruce started. "Who?"

"The woman who put that look on your face. Must have been one hell of a breakup."

"Yeah." Bruce took a sip of beer and decided that he wouldn't bother to correct her about the gender of his ex. "It really was."

She put her hand on his bicep and squeezed gently. "Would you believe me if I told you it's going to be okay?"

He removed her hand. "Depends on whether it was the truth." He paid for his drink and left, fully aware that this woman probably thought he was an asshole. In all fairness, maybe he was.

Bruce hated being touched, especially by strangers. He never knew how he was supposed to respond. Somebody would pat his shoulder in a buddy-buddy sort of way, and he would automatically stiffen. He'd never quite understood why it was, but whenever somebody touched him, he wished they would stop.

Tony was always touching him, and Bruce didn't mind as much as he normally would. When they kissed, Tony's hands would tug at his hair, pulling him closer. He would stroke his shoulders, his back, whispering words of encouragement. Bruce wasn't even sure Tony noticed how often he did this, and he never brought it up.

Eight days after Tony left, the Other Guy made an appearance.

Bruce was always angry, but usually managed to keep the anger under control. That was the secret; keep things wrapped up under layers of other emotions so that it never reached the surface. But on the eighth day after he saw Tony, there were no other emotions to hide under. Most people could afford to let themselves get angry once in a while. Bruce could never take that risk, never allow himself to let go.

In retrospect, he was pretty sure that it was Pepper's letter that triggered it. She'd written him a long note chastising him for hurting Tony. As if he had had a choice in the matter. All he could think about was how stupid Tony was, for being willing to flirt with disaster this way. And why had Bruce let things go on so long without putting a stop to it? It was so unfair that he had to be the one to step back from something he wanted so badly, so stupid that he could never be in a real relationship, so frustrating that everyone was so inclined to blame him when it wasn't his fault.

Bruce knew he shouldn't let this get to him, but he was so frustrated and angry and tired that he slipped into being the Other Guy without even thinking about it.

The transformation wasn't painful, but truth be told, it never was. It felt like release, like he could finally lower his defenses. What was painful was the psychological piece, knowing that he needed to make things stop, but also that he couldn't. That didn't happen this time, because he didn't even notice what was going on. Just slipped away and woke up naked in an unfamiliar place. It was alarming how familiar these unfamiliar places were becoming.

I'd like to see you come apart entirely," Tony whispered, grazing Bruce's ear with his teeth. "You're always so in control. I'd like to see you writhing beneath me. I want to fuck you so hard you can't think. Come on, Bruce. I want to see you let go."

"No," Bruce whispered back. "You really don't."

Bruce needed help. He was losing himself. It had been seventeen days since he'd seen Tony, and in that time, he'd transformed three times. He checked the paper every day to make sure no one was hurt. So far, nothing had been reported, but then, sometimes these things weren't. Even if no one had been hurt, it was just luck, and eventually that luck would run out.

After the fourth transformation, he broke a long-term promise to himself and called S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Let me get this straight," Fury said. "You want us to come to our facilities and have us run copious tests on you, some of them quite painful, some of them actually triggering transformation? You want that?"

"Yes. I'd give you my address, but I'm sure you've been keeping tabs on me since I left Stark Tower." Since my gamma radiation accident, actually, but who's counting?

"Dr. Banner, are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I'll be expecting you in an hour." Bruce hung up, knowing for certain that Fury wouldn't be able to pass up an opportunity like this.

The next few days were a haze of tests and blood samples and being taken to a Hulk-proof room and being told to "try to transform," a feat which was alarmingly easy. Afterwards he didn't remember much, except the feeling of abject humiliation that he felt as they studied him.

The one day, twenty seven days after Tony had come to see him (69 since they had broken up,) Fury came to him with his results.

"We've made one major discovery," Fury said. They were sitting at opposite ends of a table in one of the main labs, and Fury was pulling up data on a screen. "You seem to be suffering from some form of suppression. Sometimes it gets to be too much to hold things back, and then the Hulk appears."

"Why is he coming out so often now?"

"That's what we'd like to figure out. It seems like now more than ever, you're having a hard time keeping your emotions in check. I'd like you to start seeing a S.H.I.E.L.D. issued psychiatrist. See if we can help you unlock what might be affecting you. You could also take some suppressants, but I think that might affect you negatively in the long run, so I wouldn't recommend it."

"So that's it? A psychiatrist, and pills that you don't actually want me to take?" This was ridiculous. Days of humiliation and degradation for this?

Fury leaned forwards. "There's one more thing you can try, but you're not going to like it, Doctor." How was it that he could maintain better eye contact with one eye that most people could with two?

"What is it?"

"From the tests we've run, you seem to be emotionally and physically healthiest immediately after a transformation. If you're willing, I'd like you to come by once a week and transform here, where it's safe. It might stop the Hulk from bursting out at unexpected times."

Bruce shook his head quickly. "Absolutely not."

"Dr. Banner, I'm not quite sure you realize how serious this is. I'm offering you a solution that will keep people safe. If you don't accept this, you may not be so lucky the next time you transform."

Bruce sighed, wishing Fury hadn't played that card. "Well, then I guess I have no choice."

"There's always a choice, Dr. Banner. I'm glad you're making the right one."

The morning after he and Tony first had sex, Bruce woke up first. Tony was on the opposite end of the bed snoring, and Bruce felt stupid and used. Tony Stark would sleep with anything that breathed, and that was a fact. Bruce had a million reasons for not wanting to get attached, but looking at Tony calmly breathing, he wished that he could believe that they would have a chance, if it weren't for the Other Guy.

He got out of bed and left the house, walking around New York City for hours. When he came back, he went to the lab and acted like he'd been there all along.

Bruce returned home, with the agreement that S.H.I. . would fly him in once a week to have a therapy appointment and transform. He hated both things, although by the time the therapy was over, he was good and ready to let himself be angry. After a few weeks, though, he had to admit it was helping.

53 days after he saw Tony, a letter arrived from Steve.

Dear Bruce,

Pepper gave me your address. I think she wants me to convince you to go back to Tony, but I'm not sure you should, especially if you don't think it's safe. It's hard to put someone you love in danger, even if they say they're okay with it. So don't worry, I'm not trying to convince you to do anything you don't want to.

Fury told me that you went in for some tests. What was that like? I remember the tests they ran when I first woke up after being in the ice. They were terrible. You're a brave man to go in and ask for them. I'm glad you're trying to make things work out.

We're all living in Stark Tower now. I suppose you already know that. Tony's got a new project going every week. He's getting a lot done right now. I think it's partly to distract himself, now that he's not using alcohol for that. He seems to be doing all right, which means he probably isn't. The government's been on his case about the Iron Man suits again, too, and I think that's been hard on him.

I guess I'll write more later. If you're able to write, I'd enjoy hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Steve Rogers

Bruce sat down to think, but stopped himself. He was always thinking. Just once, he wanted not to think, so he called Fury.

"Fly me in. I want to let the Other Guy out for a while."

Tony had built him a room to transform in, but Bruce never used it. They'd had a big fight about it, when it had first been built. When he apologized to Tony for yelling, Tony came in very close and put his hands on Bruce's shoulders.

"Someday, you're going to have to be brave enough to let go."

57 days after Bruce saw Tony, he picked up the phone and made a call.

"Hello?"

"Tony, it's me. Can we talk? In person?"

"When?"

"Tonight. There's a bar near where I live. I can give you directions."

"No need. I'll have Jarvis look it up. Seven work for you?"

Bruce swallowed nervously. "Yeah, seven. Sounds good."

He couldn't focus for the rest of the day, and ended up getting to the bar at 6:30. Tony arrived at seven on the dot, looking dressed up and perfect and a little bit nervous. He sat down at the bar next to Bruce. "So."

"Yeah."

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"I did." Now that Tony was here, Bruce wasn't sure he had words for what he was feeling. He knew what he wanted, but now that he was here faced with this situation, there was nothing to say. "I suppose Fury's told you that I've been going into S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"He did." Tony ordered a beer, looking oddly tired. It didn't show in his face so much, but it was written all over the way he held himself. "I'm glad."

Bruce looked pointedly at Tony's drink. "I thought you were staying sober."

"I'm not a teetotaler, either. I promise I'll only have one drink."

"Good." This would be easier if Tony stayed sober. Bruce always fell apart when Tony drank too much.

They sat there silently for several minutes. Finally, Tony set his drink down on the table and looked Bruce in the eye. "What am I doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't drag me out here to the middle of nowhere just for a beer. What's going on?"

"I wanted—I wanted to talk to you. I want us to be together."

Tony sighed.

"What? Isn't that what you want, too?"

"I don't know. It's not that—it's just—I love you, you know? And you wanted us to be together in the beginning, too, but then you left, and—I couldn't take that again. I've been doing okay. It's fucking terrifying, but I'm actually trying to get my shit together. And now you want us to be together again, only I don't know if you're serious about this, or how long it'll last, and—Christ, Bruce, help me out here."

"I'm sorry." What else could he say? What else was there to say, when you know that you screwed up, but at the same time, without having screwed up, you never would have worked through things you needed to, and you're broken, but then, so is he, and you just really want to kiss him? What could Bruce possibly say that would make this okay?

"Yeah." Tony sighed again. "I'm sorry, too."

"So can I come back?"

"Do you promise not to leave?"

"I don't know." Bruce looked down. "My therapist thinks I have commitment issues."

"I don't care what your therapist says. Do you promise not to leave?"

"Ever?"

"Well, without reason, anyway."

"I still think my reason was pretty good."

"My question still stands."

"So does my answer."

Tony smiled, for the first time since he'd arrived at the bar. "I've missed having these special moments together, Dr. Banner. Fine, you win. But if you leave again, I'm not coming after you."

"You weren't supposed to come after me this time."

"Sure I was. You can't tell me that you weren't just sitting here waiting for me to show up."

"Can we stop arguing? Please?"

"I don't know. I'm kind of enjoying this." He grinned.

"Tony, shut up. It's been 57 days. Can I please just kiss you?"

"You haven't changed."

"Neither have you." Without waiting for an answer this time, Bruce put his arms around Tony and kissed him.

END