Okay, this completely disregards the final scene (after the credits, of course- because there's always something after the credits) when Tony is talking to Bruce and telling him the whole story. Despite how much I love that scene and think that it's ABSULOTELY PERFECT (OHMYGOD FANGIRLING THAT PART WAS BEAUTIFUL) it won't, unfortunately, fit into this tale. That scene implies Bruce never knew, whereas in this chapter, he finds out. This is his reaction:) Which, I obviously had such a JOY writing. I'm such a sucker for bromance. :) There you have it, Bruce Banner! Who would you like next, Thor or Clint Barton? Fury, and Fury will be included in this, will definitely be last- before the major confrontation/aftermath.
Bruce could feel the almost surreal rage coursing through his veins uncontrollably, streaming and flowing and gushing within him. He could feel the deep-set, desperate fury mingle within his cells and entwine with the crimson blood pumping harshly beneath his unnaturally pallid skin. His heartbeat seemed almost forced, echoing loudly and severely to his own ears. And somewhere, beneath the layers of the deafening plasma rushing through his ears, fusing to the rhythm of the constant drumming within his cranium, pounding and pounding and pounding to a never-ending pulsation- he could feel his heart, bashing against his ribcage mercilessly.
The sensation was persistent- of cold sweat beading along his neckline, forming across skin that was too colourless and darkened veins that were too evident. His eyes trailed over his bare hands, rough and calloused and decorated with estranged, unnatural green streaks- embedded beneath the skin and announcing just how close he had come to the edge. The tips of his fingers had developed a strange greenish-blue shadow, surrounded by more spider-web like lines flowing all too obviously across his body.
Clenching a set of fists, ignoring the manner in which his unusually toned fingers dug into his vein covered palms, he concentrated on letting go. He focused his mind- or whatever sector of it, in all its brilliance- to remaine in a state with enough composition to gather his bearings and bring him from his looming release of rage and fury.
He was so close. He could tell his orbs had tinged to a forest emerald tone, varying from their usual somehow calm hazel, by the way his vision had blurred around the edges and developed a standing scarlet shadow that he could see with blinding clarity whenever he slid his eyelids close. Dilated pupils and unorthodox streams of coloured lines rushing across his orbs, that stage he knew he was past. He could feel the 'Other Guy' stirring hungrily within him, filled with a ridiculously rash, illogical and undoubtedly fuelled wrath.
Calm yourself.
A single breath flowed through his pallid chapped lips and streaming down his windpipe, filtering itself within his hungry lungs.
Calm yourself, Bruce.
Funny, Bruce thought, that was what Tony used to tell him. All the time. Whether it was between prodding him with a Taser or sitting close enough to him to peer at him with large, curious eyes- silently, and not to so silently- asking him about the 'Other Guy', asking him about the Hulk.
Deep breaths.
The thing with Tony –see, he mused in the moments between the pounding again in his head and reverberating in his veins, coursing through his bloodlines, was that… he wasn't afraid. Tony wasn't afraid, and he wasn't shy around the Hulk, and he certainly didn't make him feel alone.
Alone.
No. Bruce had been alone most of his life. Out-shunned and rejected and hunted. On the run and all, all alone. With no friends, no family, no-one.
The other Avengers were fine around him, he supposed. Steve treated him as a friend, but as much as he tried to hide it- he was still cautious. He still made subtle hints and kept slightly tense when he was around Bruce. He kept a secure gaze on him and never, ever, ever talked about him- the Hulk, the Other Guy, him. Natasha was afraid. Even if only to the slightest and smallest of degrees, she was scared of him and of what he might do and how he might react. She had a weapon on her person when near him at all times, and never initiated close contact unless absolutely necessary. Thor wasn't around much, but the lightly swerving gaze he calculated Bruce with from time to time made him feel like he was being analysed, tested. He patted him on the shoulder from time to time and they had shaken hands, but it was all that was. Firm and unyielding and precautious. Clint, on the other hand, was better- in a way. He smile and talked to Bruce and threw the occasional joke around, but he, like Steve, also never talked about the Hulk. He never mentioned him, he never implied a circumstance which included him, he just never really said anything- as if Bruce was one person, and- oh the irony- the 'Other Guy' was another.
But Tony Stark, Tony freakin' Stark had poked and prodded and teased him about it. He slapped Bruce on the back and nudged him with his elbow. He smiled in a carefree manner around him and asked him, asked him about the Hulk. He talked about the 'Other Guy' and joked about him. Hell, once he had even looked in all serious intent into Bruce's eyes and thanked him for catching him in the aftermath of the whole New York fiasco with Loki.
And that was the thing, wasn't it? He thanked him. He thanked Bruce. He was the only one who understood.
He was the only one who understood that Bruce and the 'Other Guy' were one in the same person. Bruce was the Hulk and the Hulk was Bruce; you couldn't have one without the other.
And that scared Bruce. In fact, it terrified him. It made him horrified to such an extent because he was beginning to feel comfortable around Tony; he was beginning to feel safe.
Breathe.
He could feel the green tinted veins retracting and his eyes returning to a state of normalcy. The beating of his heart wasn't so loud anymore, and it didn't deafen him to the point where all he wanted to do was cover his ears with his hands and scream and beg for silence. His blood stopped rushing throughout his body a mile a minute and his skin began to regain some colour.
Breathe.
He finally began to feel the sensation of exhaustion crawling across his limbs and filling them with lead. His head felt heavy and his eyelids felt like they were rusted metal Venus fly traps creaking because their hinges had finally given in.
At last, his breaths were no longer required to be long and calculated and forced. The blessed familiar calm had washed over him once more, leaving him practically dead on his feet- but extremely relieved nonetheless. He wouldn't- couldn't- give in to his emotions at the moment. Not when Tony was in such serious danger.
Somewhere near the coast of Southern India, Bruce Banner turned off the radio with a quick twist of the old, croaking wooden knob- touching the aging device only slightly as if it had somehow personally offended him. The reporter's clear voice was bathed in a short storm of sparking static before abruptly ended as the man began to speak about the Mandarin.
Bruce strained himself to stop the surging emotions that threatened to drown him. Despite the fact that his anger had been replaced by exhaustion, he knew the moisture collecting at his eyelashes was a result of something entirely different. He knew, as the first crystal drop fell and collided with the pristine, white tiled floors that it would be the first of many. Of many made from sadness and loss and misery. Of many made from hurt and angst and confusion. For the one person who wasn't afraid. For the one person who trusted him. For his kindness, and for his selflessness. For the person who knew he was Bruce Banner just as well as the Hulk.
For his friend.
And the he wouldn't give up on him. He wouldn't just give in, because he knew with an unusual frightening certainty- that if the situations were reversed, Tony would do the exact same thing. Heck, he'd probably bring him back from the dead if need be.
Plus, it's not like the Hulk would let him. The same Hulk who liked nobody, who cared for nobody, who fought for nobody. The same Hulk who had saved Tony, the same Hulk which Tony had saved in return.
So he was going to stop the tears and the shaking- he'd only just noticed that, honestly- and he was going to- he and the 'Other Guy'- find him. Find the bastard and yell at him for being so careless, and then probably punch him- and then definitely engulf him in a hug that was from Bruce and the Hulk.
And then he was probably going to punch him again for pulling a stunt like that. And for good measure.
But right now he needed to get out of this makeshift lab and call Fury to ask him why the hell he had to hear that his best friend was probably dead through the freakin' radio.
