Steve was the first to ask, even if it took him a long time. With Tony, it just sort of happened, because he'd spent so much time with him. It was something they couldn't really avoid, or at least not when Tony was drunk.

But Steve was the first to actually sit down with him and discuss it for what it was, not a drunken rambling.

He knew that Steve had been having a hard time recently, with SHIELD falling and everything. The man thought he died to end Hydra, and yet here it was, alive and well.

But perhaps the thing that had been worrying Steve the most was the reappearance of his friend, the one who had died, as a Hydra assassin.

Yeah, Bruce could see how that could mess anyone up.

"Bruce," Steve said carefully. He paused, looking at the tablet in Bruce's hands. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you busy?"

Bruce put his tablet down. He probably could have said yes and avoided the whole conversation, but he really wasn't doing anything, and he knew Steve would persist.

"Not really," he admitted. "Did you want something?"

"I was hoping we could... talk."

Bruce shrugged. "Sure."

Steve sunk into the couch next to him, careful to keep his distance. None of them particularly liked to be touched, which mostly had to be learned the hard way.

Steve was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

"You said... when we first met, that you tried to kill yourself."

"Yeah," Bruce said wearily.

"Why?"

Bruce wanted to laugh, because god, that was a loaded question. Why not, he wanted to answer, but that would cause too much harm.

"I had been depressed for a long time. Even before the accident. But after that... everything fell apart. I was on the run, I was dangerous, and I didn't have anything left to live for. I tried a couple times, the first time with water, and the second time with drugs. But... the other guy came out both times. I figured that a gun would be too fast for him, but it wasn't. And after that..." he shrugged. "I was out of options. So I moved on."

Steve nodded. "You worked as a doctor, helping people."

"Yeah. I tried anyway. I couldn't always. It wasn't an easy life. It was dangerous, for me, and for everyone around me. I was constantly in fear of being tracked down. And yes, I tried to help people. I did it for whatever they could give me, and something it wasn't anything. Sometimes I went hungry, or didn't have a place to sleep. But... sometimes, it was worth it. Sometimes I could save a child, and it made it worth living for another day. But it didn't go away. I was depressed. I still am. Depression is like drowning Steve, and sometimes it just seems easier to give up."

Steve's eyes were heavy with concern.

"It's better now though, right?" Steve asked. "I mean, you're not a fugitive now, you have somewhere safe to live, friends."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, attempting a smile.

Steve smiled back at him, and patted him on the shoulder. He must have heard what he wanted to hear, even if it wasn't the truth, because he stood up.

"Thanks for talking to me. Keep your chin up," he said, before walking out.

Bruce slouched as soon as he was out of the room.

He knew that. He knew he should be thankful for everything, for the home Tony had given him, for the friendship of everyone, even for what had formerly been SHIELD, for clearing his name in the Harlem incident.

Because that was logical and right and made sense.

But depression wasn't logical. Depression defied logic at every turn. You couldn't reason your way out of depression, you couldn't talk yourself out of suicide because it was wrong.

And no one else seemed to get that.