Enjoy the day early update c: Just a little note, it's canon in some of the comics that there is a refractory period for Bruce turning into the Hulk. When he has changed back he can't go right back into Hulk mode at the drop of a hat.
I tried to do as much research as possible for every aspect of this chapter. Forgive me for inaccuracies.
violet light - Raised By Swans fueled this chapter
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel's
Chapter Ten - Drowned
She recognized him easily now as he brought his hammer across the cheek of the Abomination. The sound when it made contact was satisfying and filled Amira with an incredible hope. The monster matched the Hulk in sheer strength but bested him in speed. He appeared, now, to be moving in slow motion pitted against the Asgardian prince. Thor leaped and dodged around every attempt made by the monster to squash him, his majestic blonde tresses and red cape rippling behind him.
Amira, forgotten by the monster, reestablished her cloak and sprinted over to where Bruce was lying. She couldn't forget how badly he had been brutalized. In every report or legend she had ever heard of where the Hulk had come undone he had never lost. Yet there she had seen him, knocked out cold. She had been too distracted by Thor's heroic entrance to see the moment he had transformed back into the mild-mannered scientist she knew. She fell next to him hard on her glass speckled knees. She growled and kicked herself for not having her knee pads in her duffel bag that day. Uncaring of the pain, she methodically checked his pulse. She couldn't feel it in her bracelet. His had broken during the change.
Nothing.
She placed her head on his chest trying to feel for the slightest movement.
He was alive. His pulse was faint but it was there and she could feel his chest rising very shallowly.
She sighed and let herself breathe fully for the first time since she fell from the hands of the Abomination. He was completely unscathed. So, he was as indestructible as they said. She wound the satchel over her head – miraculously, it hadn't fallen off of her – and placed it gently beside him. His pants, now woefully stretched and torn, kept him mostly decent. She lightly tapped his cheek with her hand. The exit was just to their left, Thor had punched through the debris and made a large gap. If she could get them out while Thor fought off the Abomination they might both have a chance of getting out of this alive. He stirred and muttered as he fell into consciousness.
"Come one, wake up." She said impatiently. She persistently batted at his cheek to rouse him.
"MmmBetty?" He murmured, his voice rolled over his lips dreamily.
"Nope. Amira. And we've got to get the hell out of here." His eyelids, trimmed with long dark lashes, twitched and fluttered open. She could see the final flecks of green draining from his irises. He reeled when he saw Amira kneeling over him; his good dream had been disturbed. He look disoriented and pained like a bright spotlight had been directed into his eyes.
"Wha-" He was interrupted by a loud crash from the fighting happening close by.
"I'll fill you in on the details later. Can you walk?" She asked as she helped him to sit up. He nodded.
Thor swung Mjollnir rapidly and let it rip. It flew so quickly that Amira could barely trace it. Bruce watched along with her as the projectile connected with it's intended target. They both cringed when they heard the rush of air leaving the Abomination's lungs as the hammer struck him square in his chest. He was driven into the earth and became pinned beneath Mjollnir's incalculable weight. His arms and legs flailed as he sputtered for want of oxygen. Thor bellowed a victorious laugh.
"That was the best you could do, beast? I admit my disappointment." He taunted. Amira stood and approached him. The room was, somehow, more trashed than it had been before. Limping, she carefully tiptoed over detritus and debris to address the Asgardian.
"Am I ever glad to see you." She panted. Thor held a hand out to summon his hammer and looked in her direction.
"Who goes there? Show yourself at once!" He barked. With a single motion he could retrieve his hammer and destroy her.
"I come in peace! I- oh!" She remembered to uncloak herself, "Sorry about that." She was hunched over, hands resting on her knees, breathing heavily. The stately man dropped his guard and his eyes softened.
"You seem to be in some distress." He said, lowering his hand and moving in to help her.
"I'm fine. We have to get out of here and tell the others." She brushed him off and directed him to Bruce, who was tripping over himself trying to step into the pair of jeans he had grabbed from his satchel.
"I see. I will assist you at once-" He looked at her, his eyes questioning.
"Amira."
"I will assist you at once, Lady Amira." He finished.
"You don't have to- uh, whatever." Amira couldn't bear to correct him, He seemed so determined to be jovial and polite. She rubbed her forehead and gestured to the Abomination. "What about that guy?"
"Oh, he isn't going anywhere." Thor said with a toothy grin. The monster was using all of his strength to breathe beneath the hammer's weight. Amira wasn't consoled, however. He still laughed that evil sticky laugh in between his labored inhalations. She struggled to tear her gaze away from the monster and directed it towards getting to the surface. She joined the other two men. Bruce spoke to her, his eyes averted.
"Thanks, y'know," He seemed bashful, "for keeping track of my bag." Amira gave him a little smile, partly out of amusement and relief for seeing him upright and not quite so angry. She also didn't want either man to know the extent of her injuries so she tried to seem confident. They couldn't afford even one more distraction.
"Well, it wouldn't do to have you romping around the place naked, would it?" She replied.
"That would have been interesting. I don't think I've ever romped before." He snarked. He had enough energy to be sarcastic. That was a good sign. Amira, as quickly as she could with her haggard limbs, jogged through the gap and retrieved her vest and gun. She looked back. Through the massive hole, she could see a sudden light flickering in the command room. She tripped back and supported herself on the rubble beside the exit to see what was the matter. The laughing was much worse now. It was louder. An eerie yellow glow enveloped the Abomination. Thor's hammer toppled uselessly over onto the concrete floor.
"Impossible." Said Thor, his gaze tracking the creature. Slowly, he was lifted into the air, enchanted by the strange light. He did not seem concerned. In fact, he was very triumphant as his huge green body levitated before them. Bruce and Thor looked as awestruck as she felt.
"Bruce Banner!" The monster declared. "I'll see you again for round two very soon!" Amira glanced at Bruce. The golden glow reflected off of the sheen of sweat on his face. He was wide eyed and shocked. This was the first time he had ever been beaten. She swallowed hard. If the indestructible Hulk was afraid then what hope did she have? Would Thor always be there to bail them out of trouble?
"And you, little mouse!" His voice was low now, gnawing at her insides like a virus. "I'll crush you yet." It was a subtle threat. No one else had seen that Amira was in his clutches. She stood her ground, determined not to let anyone know how tremulously afraid she was. The Abomination started to de-materialize, shimmering like a hologram. When he finally disappeared the pale yellow beams crackled like lightning and surged throughout the room. The light bulbs in each fixture exploded, sending sparks like stars in every direction. His bitter, evil laughter echoed throughout the room even after he had gone. It was now unbearably quiet and dark. The rancid smell had, at least, begun to let up with his dramatic exit.
"What the hell just happened?" Bruce asked into the blackness.
"I have no idea." Amira replied.
"Tell me, why did the monster not offer me a parting threat?" Thor mused.
"He must be a sore loser." Said Bruce. Thor, appeased by this answer, frowned and threw his hand out to summon his hammer. It obeyed his call, and came to him from the dark. He inspected it skeptically, aghast at how easily it had been moved before. Bruce urged them on and they carefully headed into the corridors. Amira clicked on her trusty flashlight and they hurried out of the weapons development building.
The three Avengers climbed their way out of the subterranean level of the old building with Thor leading the way. After ascending the stairs, they came to the secure door they entered through. It had been blown off of it's hinges. Amira assumed this was Thor's doing. They followed behind the blonde titan and breathed deeply, the fresh air. Their eyes adjusted to the new light as they sprinted across the bull pen. Amira ignored the stinging in her side where the glass was burrowing into her. Bruce was lagging behind, wheezing and staggering. She slowed her pace.
"Sorry, it's just after I- you know." Amira was along side him now, he was sweating and panting. "It just takes it's toll." She craned her neck to see out of the glass doors and then back to Bruce.
"Take your time." She said. "Thor, can you go ahead and tell the others?" She shouted ahead of her. Thor had slowed ahead of them and looked back. He gave her one sharp nod and bounded outside. The sun had begun to set, and the daylight was waning
Bruce and Amira paced as quickly as they could to the doors. When he tried to swing the door open for them he brushed her side, jostling her vest. She hissed, her hand shooting up to her side to soothe it. Bruce, brow furrowed, looked from her torso to her eyes. She waved him off.
"I've got a stitch in my side - too much running." She said, resuming her stride beside the weary doctor.
"Why are you lying?"
"How do you know it's a lie." She petulantly said.
"You're bleeding." He flatly replied.
"It's superficial. There!" She said, attempting to divert his attention. "The barracks are just ahead." She pointed to the six long and low structures forty or so yards ahead of them. People hurried back and forth between buildings, carting around the wounded and various supplies. Amira squinted her eyes to catch a glimpse of her team mates but none were in sight. She heard the familiar crackling combustion of Tony's suit singing overhead. He came to an abrupt landing nearer to the barracks. His head turned to them and his face plate lifted; recognition flickered on his features.
That was the precise moment when the second, third, fourth and fifth planted explosives detonated simultaneously.
She had only a split second to see the barracks shatter before the shock wave hit her. The heat was palpable and clawed at her flesh.
She was deaf, she was blind, and then she was nothing.
She dreamed, however.
Her father was taking her and Aaron outside on a particularly snowy day in New York City. The steep street they lived on was buried in snow and all of the kids in the neighborhood came out in droves with boxes, saucers, or whatever they had on hand to slide down the newly made icy hill. She and Aaron share the lid they had poached from a storage container in the closet. She hasn't been this happy since her mother died; Aaron barely remembers those days. Their father looks on, a faded smile that they rarely see him wear ghosts across his weathered, tan features. He gives them a tentative wave and then heads back upstairs to finish his work. They thought he was going to stay. Amira tells Aaron it doesn't matter. They will make their own fun without him. They always managed.
Aaron convinces her to launch him off at the highest point of the hill. She doesn't want to but he begs. They race down the incline at incredible speed. Amira, afraid, grips Aaron's sleeves as she sits on her heels behind him on the lid. Aaron is never afraid, he shrieks with laughter and Amira regrets letting him be in front. Some older kids down the street built a small ramp at the bottom of the hill. Aaron can't see it there. The gray clouds make the snow shadowless and flat against the paper white background of the street. They launch off of it. The rest of the kids cheer. Aaron stays on the lid and lands. The neighborhood children talk of it as legend for months to come. At the apex of the jump, Amira had panicked and fallen off, flat on her back. The impact was rough and knocked the breath out of her. She rolls around uselessly, shrieking in between sobs and pawing at her chest.
"It hurts! I can't breathe!" To a ten year old, this is what dying was.
"I can't breathe!" She wails over and over. Aaron holds her face in his little mittened hands.
She can't breathe. She is dying.
She can't breathe.
"Breathe!" Came the muted voice. It roared under the ringing tone that deafened her.
The hands are hot on her cheeks. It is no longer cold out. The snow melts.
Amira opened her eyes to the darkening sky. She sucked in gulps of air greedily. She saw the silhouette of a face. Swirling embers danced into the sky where they died out like shooting stars. More voices traded back and forth.
"Aaron." She croaked. And then she remembered. "Aaron!" She shouted.
"Calm down, Amira." The voice again. She tried to focus on that voice. She shut her eyes tight and then opened them again, trying to make them work better.
"Clint?" She asks, her breathe coming shallowly.
"Yeah, it's me, kid." He helped her to sit. "You okay?" The acrid smell of the burning building stung her nostrils. Smaller noises won out over the ringing in her ears. She could hear the hysteria of the survivors of the blast.
"I'm alive." Was all she could reply. She was struck with the full memory of what had happened. Alarmed, she searched around for Bruce. She found him next to her, sitting up and rubbing his face. When he looked to her she could see a burst capillary in his right eye, coloring a small corner of his sclera red. They exchanged a bleary sort of greeting- a glad realization that the other was alive. She turned her head back to Clint. Natasha stood many feet away, shouting orders to newly arriving soldiers and medics. The aid had finally arrived. Tony was limping near her, his armor hanging off of him, most of it broken. Amira doubted that even he had a quip in the face of the wreckage. The normally exuberant man looked shell-shocked and cradled his left arm against his chest.
"The others?" She asks.
"Are fine." He confirms over the chaos. "We were all at the hospital looking for survivors. Thor had just rejoined us when the blast went off. He told us you two were still back here." He held out a hand to help her up.
She shook on her legs like an infant as she stood. This was the second time today she had been knocked on her ass. It wasn't a record, by any means, but she'd had better days. When she felt steady she thanked Clint. He moved on to help Bruce. The barracks were completely swallowed up by a twisting inferno, she could feel it scorching her face. Bruce was helped to stand beside her. His new change of clothes had been dirtied and rumpled, his hair curled and clung to his neck. He wiped his cracked frames with the bottom of his t-shirt. He glanced up at her. The orange flames set their skin aglow.
"Dr. Banner!" They both snapped to attention. Steve Rogers was coming slowly to a halt before them. He was carrying Aaron in his arms. Amira felt her heart swell and burst.
"Aaron." She mouthed. Her voice refused to work.
"He was carrying supplies to the barracks when the blast went off." Steve said, winded. "He's alive but he's hurt. There aren't enough doctors. I didn't know what to do so I came to you." Amira crowded Steve to examine her brother. His arm was folded over his stomach.
"Aaron." She repeated. He moved his arm away to reveal where his flight suit and flesh had been ripped apart by flying debris. Amira covered her mouth. He gave her a little smile. She could see where the blood had lightly stained his teeth and collected around his gums. "I told you to stay on the jet." She cried, not angry but distraught.
"Are you mad at me?" He weakly asked of Amira. Before she could answer Bruce had gently nudged her out of the way.
"Put him down." He roughly ordered. "Gently." Steve complied and set Aaron softly down on the pavement. Amira dumbly stood beside him. She was screaming in her head to act but she couldn't move.
"Clint, do you know where the medical kit is in the jet?" He evenly addressed the marksman. He received a nod from the stoic man.
"I'm on it." Hawkeye declared. He bolted off in the direction of the hangars. Natasha and Steve glanced at one another and silently agreed to head off and lend what help they could to the reinforcements trying to douse the fire.
Bruce immediately went into doctor mode, though he had little energy to run on and, quite frankly, looked as though he'd been hit by a train. His hands worked deftly to assess the damage done. The fallen pilot had lost a lot of blood. Amira, emboldened by Bruce's fast action, removed her gloves and knelt beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked over, confused.
"Give me something to do." She said, her voice uneven but her face determined. He paused briefly, as if unsure whether or not he should send her away. He sighed.
"Put pressure here for me." Bruce ordered. "Keep it sealed, do you understand?" He let her replace his hand where he was keeping pressure on Aaron's side.
"Like this?" She asked uncertainly. Her face was ashen. The blood pulsing under her fingers made her sick but she wouldn't fail Aaron. Bruce pressed his own hand on hers to teach her how much pressure was required.
"That tickles." Only Aaron could joke at a time like this. Amira wanted to slap him and squeeze him so tight all at once.
"Save your strength, Aaron." She said. She could feel searing tears pooling in her eyes. Clint dashed over, a modest bag over his shoulder. He set it down next to Bruce and then hunched over to catch his breath.
"Thank you. You should go and help the others." He tossed his head to indicate where Natasha, Steve, and Thor were helping survivors. After taking a moment to recuperate, Clint agreed darted off.
"I can stitch his wound but I don't know the extent of the internal damage. What we can do is buy him time." He said as he delved into setting up an IV to replace his fluid. Amira tried to push away the nagging hopelessness she felt at his words. The supplies aboard the quin jet were meager, this was all he could do until they could get assistance from a real medical doctor with more tools. The base was just so remote and Aaron had very little time.
Amira put her other hand on her brother's cheek. Blood was coating her arm and uniform. She murmured little encouragements and comforting things to her brother that only the three of them could hear.
"It's going to be okay, Aaron." She cooed, her voice was wet and heavy.
"It isn't so bad- doesn't hurt like I thought it would." His voice was so small. It was like they were children again. "Death, I mean." He finished. She hushed him and cried freely now.
"Don't say that." She said. Aaron frowned and did not speak. Her hands were shaking and her breathing was coming sharply and irregularly. Bruce shyly squeezed her upper arm and she looked up at him with swimming eyes.
"You don't have to do this, Amira." He whispered.
"Yes I do." She bit back, becoming defensive in her panic.
He rubbed his forehead for a moment, pondering something very weighty. He managed to get a small bit of blood on his brow.
"You know- you know this doesn't look good? I don't have the tools to give him a blood transfusion and I'm no surgeon." He spoke only to her, quietly so that Aaron wouldn't hear. "The blood in his mouth- well, it's indicative of internal rupturing, likely from the blast." He hesitated.
Amira responded with a sober nod. Indeed, he was no surgeon and she was no fool. Though she held the laceration closed as best she could there was still a lot of blood loss, and such a wound is hard to come back from. Her irises darted from side to side, searching desperately for the solution in Bruce's eyes. She couldn't possibly know how many times he had been on the receiving end of that look and how rarely he had ever had an answer. She noticed how aged and dark his eyes looked in that moment. She only looked back to her brother when she felt his breath quicken. The hand that Aaron had placed over Amira's felt cold and clammy and his face was as white as a sheet.
"He's really pale, Bruce. What do we do?" Amira sobbed with alarm.
"Be brave, 'Mira." Her brother meekly intoned. He looked so afraid. Amira shook her head ordered him to keep his eyes open. "Okay? Be brave." She could barely hear the last word. His hand fell away from hers.
"He's going into shock. His organs are going to start failing." Bruce confirmed. He needed to take charge of the situation. "Keep your hand on his wound. Do you feel any kind of pulse?" He asked urgently as he rummaged through the bag for something- anything to help him. She drove her fingers into his neck.
"I-I can't feel anything. It's weak. What do we do?" She shrieked desperately. Bruce beckoned for her to move her hand away and felt for himself.
"God damn it!" Bruce bit out through clenched teeth.
"What do we do?" Amira insisted. She wept as she rocked slightly back and forth.
"Just let me think." He hissed.
"Aaron. Please." Amira begged running her hands through his hair. His eyes were half-lidded and looking past her. A litany of pleading spilled from her lips but Aaron did not hear them. Bruce immediately began CPR. Her shaking intensified and she shrilly exclaimed, "I can't feel his pulse. I- I- there's nothing."
"Don't move, Amira." Bruce ordered as he compressed Aaron's chest rhythmically. She couldn't stop little whimpers from escaping her with every exhalation but she kept her hand where it was and did not stray.
"How can I be brave without you?" She whimpered, her knuckles white where she gripped his shoulder. "How can I be brave if you aren't here to make me brave?"
Bruce had been at it for what seemed like hours and he was exhausted. Amira watched him continue even though she must have known that by now if would not make a difference. Blood weakly wept from in between her quivering fingers. There was no longer a heart beat. Despite this, he kept going and going. He would not quit.
"Hey," Tony knelt down and placed a crimson gauntlet on the forearm of his friend, an act urging him to stop. He had been watching on the sidelines of the wreckage, holding his arm and keeping his distance until he intervened. Bruce grimaced and finally relented. He hesitated to meet Amira's gaze as he wiped his blood flecked glasses on his shirt. He sighed. Their eyes met for a moment but he looked away from her, seemingly defeated and disappointed in himself. Amira simply sat on her heels and cradled her baby brother's head in her lap. She had closed his eyes for him.
"I'm sorry, Amira." Bruce breathed. She weakly shook her head.
"He never listened to me. He should've listened." She trailed off. He was so close to her he could probably hear her heavy tears pitter patter as they collided with Aaron's cheek. "It isn't your fault." She tenderly swept the hair out of Aaron's face which was ghostly and so sedate it was almost unrecognizable. Bruce looked as if he wanted to say something but instead he opted for silence. He just calmly sat next to her, studying her, listening to her cry. She had scrapes and dried blood on her uniform and face.
"You're still bleeding." He said pointing to her side. He could see where the small trickle of blood had become sticky and dried under her vest. She had stopped feeling her own cuts long ago. Her gaze cast downward toward her brother, ignoring his comment. Her color had faded to a sickly hue and she sat, petrified. Tears like little gems clung to her lashes.
Aaron was gone.
She couldn't breathe. She was dying.