If they had been left alone they may have spent years there, may have fallen in love, may have bought a dog, may have been happy. Bruce, however, was never left alone, and it all came crashing down not even a week later.
Bruce and Nora were watching the news, eating some apple pie that Nora had brought from work when there was a sharp rap on the door.
The two looked at each other in bewilderment before Bruce turned down the volume and Nora cocked her head to the side.
The knock sounded again.
"I'm not wearing my wig!" Nora whisper-shouted, scrambling off the couch, "Tell them I'm in the shower!"
Bruce nodded quickly and waited until he heard the water running before opening the front door.
He had been expecting a sellsman, some missionaries, or even Lenore's neighbor Dinah, but instead he was confronted by two tall, dull looking men in ill fitting suits. Bruce knew who they were before the shorter of the two showed his badge.
"I'm Agent Kramer and this is Agent Wilson, we're with the FBI. Are you Bobby Kipling?"
"Yeah," he answered, playing the part of the bewildered civilian, "What is this about?"
"Can we come in, sir?"
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck.
"I don't know... This is my girlfriend's house and she's in the shower."
"We're federal agents, sir, I'm sure she won't mind. In fact, we'd like to talk to her as well. Her name is Sarah Lym, correct?"
Bruce nodded, too much resistance would look suspicious, though he doubted they weren't suspicious already.
"Sure, let me tell Sarah you're here."
Bruce left them in the living room, confident that the only damning evidence was in the bedroom and his and Nora's cars.
He went through the bedroom on the way through, hiding a stray wig that Nora had left lying on the bed. Knocking on the door, he hoped to god she wasn't naked.
"They're FBI," he whispered when she opened the door (thankfully clothed).
"Do you know what they're here for?"
"No," he started, but before he could get out the rest of his sentence he felt his stomach jerk as though someone had taken a fish hook to the bottom of it.
Nora's eye were lit up neon green, and he could feel her panic as though it were his own.
Without a thought he crowded her back against the door, pressing his body flush against hers, wrapping his right arm around her waist and gently but firmly squeezing the back of her neck with his left hand.
It took almost thirty seconds for her to calm down, but eventually she did, green fading from her eyes.
"What do we do?" she whispered.
"We don't know what they're here for," he responded, mouth barely an inch away from her ear, "So we're playing Bobby and Sarah. I told them you're my girlfriend, do you think you can play along?"
Nora nodded.
"Good girl," he praised, squeezing the back of her neck once more before releasing her.
She glowed under the praise.
They shared one last look and then proceeded to the living room.
Agent Kramer was standing by the front window, and Agent Wilson looked as though he had just stepped in from the kitchen.
Banner didn't doubt that Wilson was listening in at the other bathroom door, and was glad that they had whispered.
Agents Wilson and Kramer sat down on the couch, leaving the couple to sit on the loveseat, Bruce wrapping his arm around Nora.
"You're Sarah Lym?" Kramer asked.
"Why yes I am, sir," she replied, voice as smooth as molasses, "But I'm afraid I don't know what this is about. Bobby said you're from the FBI?"
"Yes, ma'am," Wilson answered, "We're here investigating a series of restaurant stick-ups."
Bruce's mind immediately went to Birmingham, and he was sure Nora's did too, so he had to applaud her acting skills when she gasped.
"Has the restaurant I work at been robbed? Is everyone alright?"
"Your workplace is fine, we're here because of a robbery in Birmingham."
Nora squeezed Bruce's knee and he took over, letting out an obvious sigh of relief.
"Good, you got my phone call then, I'm glad."
Kramer raised his eyebrows.
"So you admit you were the one who made the call?"
Bruce nodded, doing his best to look confident.
"Of course, why would I not?"
"You refused to give your name to the operator and we have surveillance footage of you getting out of your car and throwing the phone in the trashcan."
'Aha!' Bruce thought victoriously, he had been tracked by his license plate number, not his or Nora's faces.
While it was a relief to know that the two agents didn't know their identities, he couldn't immediately think of a reason to throw the phone away, so he squeezed Nora's shoulder.
"That would be my fault actually," Nora said, taking over flawlessly, "I have an illness which makes my blood thinner than a bean pole. I was in the middle of having a horrible nose bleed and Bobby was just trying to keep me from passing out. He threw the phone away because because it was just a disposable cell, and we thought if we stayed on the line until the police came they would make me go to the hospital and... we just can't afford hospital bill right now. Nobody- Nobody got hurt, did they?"
Bruce had to admit that she was a very good actress, with little tears clinging to her bottom eyelashes and her lower lip quivering.
Wilson looked distraught, and Kramer looked highly uncomfortable.
"No one died," Wilson comforted, anxiety clear on his face, "Please don't cry, miss, you did what you could, the call helped the police get there on time."
"Did it really?" she sniffed.
"I told you it would be fine, honey," Bruce told her, wiping the crocodile tear off of her cheek with his thumb. Bruce tried not to linger on how easy the endearment rolled off his tongue as Kramer awkwardly nodded.
"We were able to apprehend one suspect because of the call, however, we are still unsure of the identity of the second perpetrator. We were wondering if you were able to identify them."
"We only passed by on the street, we just saw their backs. Sarah saw the gun and told me to call the police. I put her in the car, drove a few blocks away so the robbers wouldn't see us, called 911, and then got N- …Sarah home."
Wilson nodded, but Kramer's eyes narrowed at the slip-up.
"One last question," Kramer asked, "Could we fingerprint you? Just to rule you both out."
Bruce and Nora looked at each other, Nora wide eyed.
"Cry," Bruce whispered from the corner of his mouth.
Almost immediately her face screwed up and tears started smearing her mascara.
"We didn't do anything wrong!" Nora sobbed, "First I spill oil on myself at the diner, then my paycheck is going to be late, and now we may not be able to pay the rent this month and-"
"Ssh," Bruce comforted, pulling her into his chest before turning toward the detectives, "I think you need to leave, you've certainly upset her enough."
Wilson scrambled to his feet while apologizing, but Kramer merely nodded and corralled his partner to the door, a suspicious eye on Nora's shaking shoulders.
Nora stopped crying as soon as the door shut, but they did not move until the engine started and the car drove away. They sat in silence for a long time, before Nora sighed and put her head in her hands.
"We have to leave, don't we?"
Bruce tried his hardest not to look at her.
"You don't have to, I was the one who slipped up. Use your makeup to give yourself a bruise and tell everyone I beat you and left. They never investigate battered women, they'll come after me."
A soft hand on his made him look into Nora's determined blue contacts.
"I'm coming with you, Bruce."
Bruce shook his head.
"You've built a good life here."
Nora scoffed, "A life where I spill oil on myself and have handsy customers grab my ass? Bruce, I've been happier with you than I could ever be in some empty house I can't even afford to heat!"
"It won't be easy, Nora, I'll be leaving the country, and, Nora... if they catch you with me I... I don't know what they'll do."
Lacing her hand in his, she smiled sadly.
"Then I won't get caught."
He knew he should say no, it would be safer for her to stay away. He was dangerous, both in body and reputation, and if the Other Guy didn't get her, the people coming after him would. He knew the answer, but her hand in his was so warm, so real, and he found himself saying yes.
"Start packing, we leave tomorrow."
Nora gave a cheer and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before going to find the suitcases.
"Here's the plan,"he told her once their things were packed, "We're driving in separate cars until we get to Tennessee, then I'll sell my truck in the first place we find, since that's the one they'll be looking for. Is your car registered under Sarah Lym?"
She shook her head.
"No, it's under Pamela Jackson."
Bruce let out a sigh of relief, "Good, we won't have to change the plates. You have a passport in that name?"
"No, just a driver's license."
"That's all right," he told her, though the crease in between his brows and tension in his voice told her otherwise, "We'll get you one. Do you own this house?"
Nora nodded again, flinching when Bruce swore and smacked his hand on the coffee table.
"Dinah will buy it!" she exclaimed, making herself smaller, "She wants to buy it so her son can live closer, she doesn't trust banks so she can get me cash tomorrow, please don't be angry."
Bruce stopped his pacing to look at Nora, really look at her. She was making herself as small as she could, curled up on the couch with her arms wrapped around her legs. She looked like a small child and Bruce was reminded of himself when he was young, trying to hide from his father.
He felt utter heartbreak and utter disgust at the same time. Heartbreak that this was Nora's learned behavior, and disgust at himself for causing it in the first place.
"I'm not angry," he assured her, backing away so as to give her space, "I promise I'm not, Nora, you did a really good job."
"Really?" she asked, finally looking up from her knees.
"Yeah," Bruce reassured, "You've been a real good girl."
He winced at how demeaning that sounded, but Nora seemed to like it, mouth pulling up at the corners.
"Do you want to go to bed?" He asked, trying to keep his voice gentle, "There's not anything we can do until morning."
Nora nodded, so Bruce asked, "Would you like me to sleep in the living room tonight?"
She nodded again, taking a deep breath before getting off the couch.
"I won't ever hit you," he told her as she went through the doorway, "I want you to know that, Lenore."
She paused, the corner of her mouth turning up in a sad smile.
"That's not a promise a man can keep."