Chapter Eight

This ain't goodbye

This is just where love goes

When words aren't warm enough to keep away the cold

This ain't goodbye

It's not where our story ends

- This Ain't Goodbye, Train

Eventually, Bruce went back to making his rounds and being a full-time doctor again. Last time, he'd be gone before I got up and back just as I was falling asleep. We would exchange silent nods and tense smiles, and sometimes, if we were in good moods, we'd even bother to say 'hello'.

It was different this time.

Bruce would try his best to get out of bed without waking me, but the sudden lack of him would always jolt me awake. I'd watch him slip on one of his worn out shirts, run a hand through his hair instead of actually brushing it, and then, once he was done getting ready, he'd turn around and throw me his wry smile and promise he'd be back later. I'd promise I wouldn't go anywhere.

Unless he was busy, he'd bring back lunch from the market place, and the two of us would sit and eat together. A lot of times, we talked, but sometimes we just fell into an easy silence. It was a nice, relaxing routine - almost domestic.

He'd still get back late, but this time I'd wait up for him. His face, which was always tired and worn when he walked through the door, would light up when he saw me grinning at him. That made my heart skip a beat.

Soon, I was actually following him around while he went and did his doctor thing. The way he stayed calm when others panicked, the kind voice he used to reassure people that everything was OK... it just... all of those things made me smile. I loved watching him work. Why on Earth did he drop out of medical school to become a physicist? I wanted to ask him that so badly, but I knew I couldn't; that was one of the things I learned from a piece of paper, and not from his own two lips.

I wanted to tell him truth, but I couldn't. There was some fundamental part of me that had been changed and molded by the army; I had a mission to complete, and I was going to complete it, dammit. By getting caught by Bruce, I'd almost already blown it. I had to do everything in my power to keep it going, and that meant continuing to live a lie.

I hated myself for lying to him.

I thought about all of this as Bruce worked quietly over a sick man while his wife and children watched on nervously. Soon, the doctor straightened up, turned towards the family, and began to explain what was going on while he fished around in his pockets for something. Finishing up his speech, he handed a bottle of pills to the woman, then proceeded to explain what they did.

Nodding reverently, the woman took the pills, clutching them close to her chest like it was the most precious thing she had ever received. With one hand, she nudged her oldest son forward, and the little boy held out a wad of money to Bruce.

A grin spread across Bruce's face. He shook his head, reaching out and closing the little palm. I rolled my eyes; lately, Bruce had stopped charging people, explaining to them in Bengali that he was happy to do it, no charge necessary. With a nod to the family, he looked to me to signal that it was time to go.

"What did he have?" I asked as we stepped out onto the crowded streets. A pressure appeared on the small of my back, and before I knew it, Bruce was guiding me through the mass of people. My palms started sweating, and an ache spread through my chest.

"Just the flu," he replied in his rich, deep voice. "It was nothing for them to panic over. He'll be fine in a couple of days." Then, shaking his head, he added, "I wish they'd better educate these people on the signs of sickness. I get so many emergency calls, and most of the time, there's nothing for me to do."

"I know. But they like having you come. You... reassure them."

Bruce just sighed. Then, stopping short, he pointed off to his left. Craning my neck around him to get a better view, my eyes widened when I saw it; the entire road was filled with stands and vendors, selling food, products, or even providing entertainment. Lanterns hung from ropes above the crowd, and the sound of laughter filled the air. "Looks like some kind of festival." Bruce looked down at me questioningly, and I knew what he was asking.

"Sounds like fun," I answered brightly.


It was fun.

People selling things pounced on us as soon as we had started to walk down the street, putting fabrics up to me and babbling on like a sales person in the U.S. would. I tried to laugh and brush them off, but these guys were nothing if not persistent. Finally, to get them to leave us alone, Bruce bought a gauzy, light blue scarf. Draping it across my shoulders, he grinned slightly and said, "It matches your eyes." My heart caught in my throat at that.

For dinner, we got some kind 'meat-on-a-stick' that actually tasted pretty good. I mean, for I knew, I could be eating people, and I wouldn't know. But it was delicious, so I didn't care enough to ask. The two of us walked around, munching leisurely on our sticks. Soon, we stopped to watch some kind of puppet show that a group of children were putting on. Bruce leaned in close and whispered the translation in my ear.

I ended up not being able to focus on the show.

Once we'd finished with that, we continued down to where the crowd started to thin out. It was another shopping area, but instead of clothes, the people here were selling eclectic little trinkets. I stared at them in wonder, amazed by the craftsmanship and the detail that went into making each little piece. Then, something caught my eye. "Holy shit," I breathed, breaking away from Bruce to go take a closer look.

It was a saber, and it was probably the finest weapon I had ever seen. The blade was long, thin, and lethal, shining in the light of lanterns above, calling me to it. Intricate patterns and designs covered the hand-guard, and I wondered briefly if it was for show or if it could actually be used. The handle was molded, and a small voice in the back of my mind told me that it was molded for my hand, that it would fit perfectly.

"Eh... American, yes?" A thickly accented voice broke me from my trance. The man behind the stand was giving me a grin, revealing several holes in his smile where teeth should have been. "You American?"

I nodded, and he let out a deep laugh. "Ah, good, good! You like this, eh?" He gestured towards the blade I had been ogling. "Very nice, this. You know how to use?" Encouraged by the nod I gave him, he picked it up and held it out to me. "Try, try! You like, I know you will."

Hesitating slightly, I reached out, wrapping my hand around the handle of the blade. I was right - it was like this blade had been made for me. Feeling more confident, I pulled it away from the vendor and held it out to test its weight. Light, just like I liked it. And it was perfectly balanced, too. I rolled my wrist around, practicing the movements that I hadn't done in over a month now. Something released inside of me, and I felt at home here in the middle of a crowded street.

"You look intimidating with that," a soft, deep voice noted. I glanced over my shoulder to see Bruce with his hands in his pockets, grinning at me. "I wouldn't to run into you in a dark alley."

No, you wouldn't. And there are several other people who will testify to that. Biting my tongue, I just laughed and shrugged, unsure of what else to do. Fortunately, Bruce spoke again.

"There's a family just down the street that sent their son to get me. It's the usual; they don't know what's wrong, it's an emergency, they'll pay me double..." When he looked me over, his eyes filled with regret when he saw that, at last, I had my favorite object back in my hand. "I'll go see what they need, but you can stay here, if you want to."

I was just about to tell him that it was fine, that I really didn't need to look at the saber anymore, when the vendor interrupted. "Your lady can stay with me!" he boomed, giving Bruce the same toothless smile he'd given me. "I have more swords in back! She will like, she will. And she try them, free of charge, OK?"

Bruce just laughed and nodded. "OK." With a final, meaningful glance at me, he turned and walked off into the crowd, off to help some other poor soul.

"Hey, lady!" the vendor called, having moved from behind his stand to a curtain hanging over an entrance to an alleyway. The hell? Could that be anymore shady? "Come, come! You keep him waiting!"

I thrust a thumb over my shoulder, looking at the man uncertainly. "Bruce just left..."

The vendor rolled his eyes like I was an idiot. "No, not your man-friend. Bald man with one-eye here to see you. He waiting for you. He ask me to get you. Come, come."

My blood turned to ice in my veins, and all I could do was stand there and stare blankly. A one-eyed bald man who'd come to see me? Fury. It had to be Fury. No one else I knew fit that description. My stomach churned dangerously when I realized what he wanted; I'd gotten too close to the mission at hand, had failed to keep at a distance. I was in trouble, and I knew it.

Every fiber in my being told me to run, to find safety in Bruce's arms, but I wouldn't do that; running was the coward's way out. Taking in a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and stepped through the curtain and into the back alley.

Nick Fury sat on a crate, casually crossing his legs and leaning back against the concrete wall. His one dark eye bore into me, and he narrowed it slightly, zoning in on the blue shall still hanging around my shoulders. "Agent Crippen."

"Sir," I replied evenly, trying to match his eerily calm tone. Reverting to old habits, I stood straight with my head held high and my hands behind my back. If anyone had been around to see me, they would know that I was a well-groomed solider.

"Agent Crippen." Fury's voice held more than a touch of irritation as he fixed me with another hard stare. "Can you tell me where in your assignment that it was written that you were to become Dr. Banner's girlfriend?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," I snapped sharply, losing my stiff position when I crossed my arms over my chest. Suddenly, the way I had said that dawned on me. 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much'. A blush crept up my throat, but I held my ground and looked back at Fury just as intently.

He got to his feet at that, bobbing his head in an almost sassy way. "Oh, really?" He did the head bob thing again. "You have been escorting him as he visits patients for almost a week now. You're wearing a scarf he bought for you because 'it matched your eyes', he's had his hands on you all night, and every time you two look at each other, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," he spat sarcastically. With a snort of disgust, he shook his head. "You have gotten to close to this situation to handle it properly. You're being reassigned."

No. No, this couldn't be happening. Reassigned? Leaving? Warm and fuzzy? My head started pounded, and my heart throbbed noisily in my chest. The world started to spin. Bruce. I didn't want to leave him, couldn't leave him. I searched desperately for something to convince Fury that I could still handle this. "I've... I've saved his life. Twice!" I cried, my breathing growing ragged.

"Oh, I heard about that," Fury said roughly. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused? Ross lit a fire under my ass. There were threats to shut us down. You killed an American solider!"

"They shot me!"

"After you killed him!" Fury looked absolutely, well, furious now. His hands were twitching by his sides, like he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around my neck. His shoulder's were tense, and his lip was curled upwards in a snarl. "We've decided that there's a better place for you, one where you are encouraged to become involved. We've assembled a specialty team to take Banner from here."

As much as I wanted to shy away from the seething look he was giving me, I refused to give him the satisfaction, and instead looked him in the eye. On the outside, I knew I looked like I had calmed back down, like the professional agent of SHIELD I was supposed to be. But that was just a mask I had put on.

Inside, my emotions were swirling. I couldn't believe this. I didn't want to believe it. I'd been avoiding thinking about what would happen when the time came for us to go our separate ways, and I was not, in any sense of the word, prepared for this. My heart ached at the thought of spending a night without him, of his grin not being the first thing I saw in the morning. I'd become dangerously attached, and down all connections were being severed. I felt like... like I as going to be sick.

But I held steady.

"Yes, sir," I said through clenched teeth. Then, my attempts to stay strong faltered. "Can I... can I say goodbye, at least?"

Fury's nostrils flared out. Without answering, he turned on one heel and stormed down the alley, black leather trench coat swinging from side to side. "Wheels up at oh-two-hundred."

He left me standing there, numb, in the middle of the alley.

I had just over three hours to say goodbye.


I told him that I wasn't feeling good, that that meat-on-a-stick hadn't really agreed with me. The perturbed look he gave me tore me apart, and I almost started crying, right then and there, as he wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me back to the place I had come to call home.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, voice laced with worry as we stepped through the doorway. I tried to turn away, but he caught my arm and pulled me back in front of him. Still refusing to meet his gaze, I bit my lip, looking down. His large, rough hand cupped my chin, then gently nudged it upwards so that I could look no where but into his eyes. Lips parting slightly, he tilted his head to the side, brows drawing together in concern. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"I don't - " My voice, which was thicker than normal, caught in my throat. "I'm just tired," I whispered hoarsely. "Please. Can we just... go to bed?" Hot tears started to prick at the back of my eyes, and I forced myself out of his grip so that he wouldn't see.

After a reluctant pause, he released me. Without looking back at him, I stumbled across the floor, my head spinning and my breathing rapid. I couldn't do this. My heart was already breaking and I was here still here. With him. Bruce was still there, but it felt like he was miles apart. I wouldn't be able to do. I wouldn't be able to say it. Slipping into bed, I curled up like a small child.

I couldn't say it. 'Goodbye' was just too… permeant. It was likely that we would never see each other again, and that would be easiest, but it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted for there to be chance, a chance that we would meet again. So I wouldn't say it. i refused to.

Bruce's warmth alerted me to his presence, but he didn't pull me in like he normally did; he was worried that he had upset me somehow, that I wanted my space. I didn't though. I wanted to be close to him, one last time. Rolling over, I faced him, just like I had the first night we'd slept like this. Our breaths intertwined, but this time I noticed he was breathing just as hard as I was. Not making eye contact with him, I slid my hands across the space between us, then placed it on his chest.

Just like I'd imagined it would be, his chest hair was soft, and a small smile flickered across my face when I touched it. That wasn't what I was focusing on, though; I wanted to feel his heartbeat. It was strong and fast, just like mine was.

I closed my eyes, entangling my fingers in his chest hair and pulling myself a little closer. My heart jumped when I heard Bruce's breath hitched, but I didn't move, even when he put his arm around me. Soon, my breathing slowed, and I looked like I was asleep - but I was far from it. This was the most awake I had ever been. Not only was how close Bruce was making my nerves feel alive with electricity, but the dreading of leaving was gnawing at my very core.

I waited to hear Bruce's soft snoring, signaling that he was asleep, but it didn't come as soon as I thought it would. Instead, I felt his fingers graze my forehead. It took all of my will power to not stiffen. "Ryan?" he asked softly. I said nothing.

Brushing my hair out of my face, Bruce ran the back of his hand down the side of my cheek. "Thank you," he breathed, thinking that I couldn't hear him. "For everything. I owe you so much..." There was a tenderness to his voice that made my heart melt and crack into a thousand tiny pieces at the same time.

Stop this, Bruce. Shut up right now. Stop talking. I can't hear you. Now is not a good time to get sentimental. Go be sarcastic and wry. Please. This is killing me.

"I was in a bad place, and you helped me out. I got low, and you lifted me higher. At first, I wasn't sure if... if I could trust you. It had been a long time since I'd met someone who didn't lie to me." Oh, my God, stop. I was fighting tears, choking back sobs. Why was he saying this now? "But I trust you completely. I trust you with my life." He paused and let out a little laugh. "You've already saved it once. I wouldn't be here without you."

Suddenly, he was breathing in my ear, so close that our faces were touching. I wanted to hold my breath to keep it from becoming loud and ragged, but I knew I had to stay calm, like I was dead to the world. On the inside, though, my heart jack-hammered away, and something stirred, forcing me to suppress a shudder.

"I love you."

No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. He did not just say that. I was imagining things. It wasn't true, it couldn't be. He couldn't. Not when I was about to leave. Not now. He couldn't do this to me! Once again, I found myself fighting tears, but I knew I wouldn't last long; it was an uphill battle, and with each moment that I was near him like this, I lost ground, slowly sliding back down towards the dark.

"I love you," Bruce repeated, a little more confident this time. "And maybe one day, I'll tell you." His warm, soft lips pressed against my forehead then. I thought I was going to lose it. "Goodnight, Ryan."

Minutes later, his soft snores reached my ears, and I broke down. Silent tears streamed down my face, and I trembled lightly in his grip. I stayed like that for a long, long time, waiting to calm down before I would finally leave.

Oh, God, how couldI leave now, when I had just heard... that? I knew I had to, but I wanted to stay with every fiber of my being. But I was afraid of what would happen if I disobeyed orders again. SHIELD knew where Bruce was; would they take him in, tell him who I really was and let him know that I had been lying to him the entire time so that he would tell me to leave, that he never wanted to see me again, and I would have no where to go but SHIELD? I wouldn't put that kind of sick, twisted shit past Fury. For all the good he claimed to do, the man could be a manipulative bastard sometimes.

I didn't want to hurt Bruce, but all of the options I had would cause him pain. It was better this way, better for him to think that I had just left in the middle of the night, better to let him wonder what had happened than for him to know that I was working with the people that wanted to turn him into a weapon. He would be hurt and betrayed with either way, but this... this was better. I had to tell myself that, or I would never be able to do it. Slipping out from underneath his protective arm, I leaned back on my knees, going into a crouching position.

A small, bitter snort escaped my lips as I glanced up at the window. What seemed like a lifetime ago, I had dreamed of crawling through that window and escaping. Now, that window symbolized a door I was closing, a place I could never go back to once I'd left. Surprisingly, tears didn't come then; no, I'd gotten that out of my system. I was too numb for crying now.

Without looking back, without pausing or hesitating, I launched myself through the window, forward-rolling onto the ground to soften my fall. Getting up, I brushed myself off rather casually, refusing to turn around. I stared straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, I started off.

With that, I disappeared into the night.