If you want Bruce to live, or you're just curious, read this. Otherwise, go away.
Bruce's next thought was the one simple word, "No."
The scientist was lying stark-naked, flat on his back, and still in his bed. He sat up quickly, his vision swimming, but he blinked rapidly to clear it. He gazed around the room tiredly and soon realized it was basically destroyed. The fact that he was moving and thinking at all was one of the biggest disappointments he'd faced to date. He buried his face in his hands and screamed as loud as he could, trying to get out his frustrations. His screams always came out as more of a roar than anything, which he blamed on the Other Guy. Most of his life was to be blamed on the Other Guy.
He then found the source of his awakening, and that was one Mr. Anthony Edward Stark standing beside him. The man had an unreadable expression on his face, but his brow was furrowed. Bruce sighed heavily and collapsed back against the bed.
"It didn't work." Bruce groaned loudly. Tony looked surprised.
"Of course it didn't work, jackass. If it didn't work last time, why the hell would it work this time?" Tony seemed to be barely containing his rage, and Bruce noticed it easily as it simmered just under the surface. He felt oddly calm and at peace as he watched Tony get angry enough for the both of them. His disappointment faded away into a strange place of serenity. Tony's voice cut through his layers of confused bliss. "You do know the definition of insanity, right?"
"I've been practicing and doing research. I actually thought it would work this time." Bruce answered honestly. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed. "I want it to work so badly, Tony."
"Why? Because you want to wreck me? This team? We're your friends, you know, Bruce. Did you even think of us before you tried to... to... do this?" Tony snatched the revolver up from the ground; it was barely held together. Hulk must've recognized it in some way and wanted to destroy it, but it was too small. Bruce dropped his hands from his face to meet Tony's eyes, sitting up again, not caring that he was still naked and sitting in a mess of broken shelves and shards of glass. He loved the pain, because it was real and external, not a constant internal force; it was a welcome distraction.
"If you were all my friends, Tony, you would realize what's best for you and for me." Bruce ran a shaking hand through his hair, dropping his eyes from Tony's. "I can't live with this. I can't live with the fear and the struggle and the pain, Tony. The pain just never goes away, and I can't do it anymore! If I'm dead, than I don't have to hurt anymore. And nobody else will be in danger, nobody else will have to die, Tony. Of course I thought of all of you, I did this for all of you! Why can't you see that this is the best thing for everybody?"
Bruce ended his rant, breathing heavily and trying desperately to bring his heart rate down and not kill Tony today. Tony was uncharacteristically silent for a moment before he whipped the revolver onto the floor, where it shattered into four pieces, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Bruce leaned back and easily tore out the broken drawer, tipping it over onto the bed and drawing out his knife. Just as a test, he drove the knife into his chest and laughed bitterly when the wound resealed itself upon his taking it out.
"Guess I'll have to try electrocution." Bruce murmured under his breath, falling back onto the mangled bed and letting himself fall apart again.