10: Stay Safe, Come Home Soon

It had only taken a few minutes for them to load the bags and get on the plane. For a small jet it was actually quite roomy. The seats were beige leather and reminded Bruce of Barcaloungers with full swivels. That was good because he was going to have to down a few sedatives. They had become less and less effective over the years—not from taking them too often (he only flew if he had no choice), but because they barely phased his system any longer. Now, it was more the ritual of taking them than anything they did after about a half hour. As he thought about it, Bruce decided he didn't need them, shoved the prescription bottle back in his pocket, and pulled out the apple Natasha had put there instead. Tony was still talking on the phone, probably to Mrs. G. if the serious tone was any indication. Bruce pulled out his phone and went through the TechUWear tutorial as he ate his apple. He was glad that he did review the information because getting out of the clothes was more tricky than putting them on. Apparently, he should have put on the leggings first. It was good to know you could swim in it, but as he dug further, he decided the last thing he wanted to do was keep it on twenty-four/seven. It collected way too much data, and he didn't want any more information available for the hacking. He suspected Natasha's hunch was probably going to be proven right if Tony's mercurial attention came back to the clothing. He had an extra pair of Under Armour in his bag and he was tempted to go change, but he just knew the tech app would rat him out.

Tony finally finished up with the call and took his seat across from Bruce and strapped himself in. "Mal says to tell you to relax. She's meeting us at Lunkin Field and taking us straight to see a family member who just happens to be a urologist. You don't have to put in an appearance at the conference till the opening festivities at 6:00pm, so there's plenty of time."

"Thank you," said Bruce. "It'll be nice not to have to worry about that. How did Mel sound?"

"As on top of things as any ringmaster can be. I've decided that she must have cousins, friends, or people who owe her a favor in every major city and port of call, including the International Space Station."

That got Bruce to smile. "You know she knows Elon Musk, right?"

"I know Elon Musk," said Tony.

"Yah, but he calls her—not the other way around."

Tony stuck his tongue out.

"I'm just giving you shit. Any protesters yet?"

"No, not in any numbers, but there are threats about the loonies from the church out in Kansas making the trip. Luckily, they tend to cancel pretty frequently, and the weather between Cincinnati and central Kansas is acting up."

"Yea, so we're literally heading into a storm."

"Or two or three storms, but it is late February in the middle of the country, so what's new about that?"

"Not a thing," said Bruce.

"Did you take your sedative yet?"

"No, I don't think I'm going to either. The most it would do is tip me into a nap."

"Well, take a nap then. God knows she had you up early and kept you busy this morning." Bruce glared at Tony; he knew this was off limits. "Hey, I'm just saying that I know you two well enough to, you know, recognize the 'glow'. You both look happy. There is nothing wrong with that. You're two healthy adults. I'm not reading anymore into it than that."

"Please don't."

"So go ahead and take a nap."

"Maybe after we take off." Bruce double-checked the seatbelt and then slumped a bit, looking out the window as the plane jolted slightly at the breaks' release as the aircraft started its taxi into position before takeoff.

Tony was able to stay quiet for forty-eight seconds: almost a new record by Bruce's calculations.

"Okay, so what are you going to name this kid? How about Anthony for a boy or Antonia for a girl?"

"You are not helping me take a nap."

"Seriously, aren't you a bit excited by the possibility?"

"Look, above all, I'm worried about Natasha, but yes, a part of me is very selfishly 'excited by the possibility'. To be honest, yes, a big part of me desperately wants this impossibility to be true, but there are so many things, which could go wrong that I am scared shitless." Bruce looked down and realized his hands were digging into the armrests and he was straining forward in his seat.

"Okay then, sorry," said Tony, "I understand. I should have thought that through. Let's walk it back. We don't even have all the facts yet. Right now all we've got is puking and she's a little late on the period. Pepper and Natasha are at the doctor's office. They'll find out what she says, we'll have you checked out in Cincinnati, and we'll all go from there. No need to drive yourself crazy worrying about it."

Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Definitely, no napping now. "It's okay. I'm really more worried about the other unknown possibilities than the remote chance of a pregnancy right now." What he didn't say out loud was that he still on occasion thought obsessively about the potential for gamma radiation exposure to anyone near him. Despite dozens—no, it was now hundreds of clean scans—he still had nightmares where everyone he knew was radiation poisoned or had been diagnosed with cancer. He knew this wasn't rational, but it was one of those depressing scenarios that were easily dredged up when it came to not knowing what was wrong. There was also that insidiously self-destructive voice that whispered, "You don't deserve anything good; in fact, you're why everything you touch goes wrong." No, he answered himself, you're just full of crap and not the center of the universe.

The jet was in position and soon they were accelerating down the runway, quickly building up speed for the take off. As a kid, Bruce would have gone ape over this. Someone would have had to peel him off the window. By the time he was in elementary school, all he would have thought about were the laws of physics that kept the plane in the air. Now, as an adult after the accident, he thought about how vulnerable this tin can was and how everyone on this jet could potentially die if he lost control. Bruce pulled out his headphones and selected a favorite Maria Callas mix. At the moment, Tony seemed to be willing to give him some space, so Bruce closed his eyes and tried to "think happy thoughts" as the plane lifted into the air.

However, it wasn't long until he was thinking of the last time he'd "piloted" a plane, if one could call it that, which was of course the Avengers' quinjet he and the Other Guy had commandeered to leave Sokovia. His memory still had some gaps, but leaving had been a mutual decision between Bruce and the Other Guy. In fact, it had been one of the first things both wanted badly enough to draw them together completely into that Liminal headspace they could share. What neither of them had counted on was the difficulty they'd have pulling out of it. Perhaps because he thought Bruce might have wavered, the Other Guy hung in there doggedly for several hours after switching off communication with Natasha. When it came time to let go, it was difficult for Bruce to trigger the change from the inside because the Big Guy was so tired and unavailable that there wasn't enough—for lack of a better word—"momentum" to trigger the transformation. It reminded Bruce of when he had trouble waking his college roommate after the guy had borrowed his car to go out drinking on a Friday night and not returned the keys. Eventually, Bruce got frustrated enough to roust the Hulk into consciousness long enough for him to slide control back to Bruce.

Of course then came the fun part, figuring out where he was and where he wanted to go. If he kept himself busy, he wouldn't have to think about what he and the Other Guy had done in Johannesburg (or why his mouth tasted like metal and motor oil, what the… ?) or deal with their feelings about Natasha. They were currently over the North Atlantic and headed for Canadian airspace. For Bruce this wasn't a bad option. Although the border itself had tightened up, he had lived there before and wouldn't have a problem blending in. It would make a good first stop. He also still had friends and contacts there who might help him, but the immediate problems were the usual: food, shelter, and clothing.

Bruce checked his locker. He had his standard emergency duffle with a change of clothing, footwear, spare eyeglasses, and the usual basic necessities after a Code Green: protein bars, energy drinks, lots of dried fruit, etc. What surprised Bruce was the unmarked envelop with the passports (two of his former aliases that had not been blown) and the array of cash in different currencies. At the bottom was a note on an index card that simply said, "Stay safe. Come home soon." He didn't recognize the handwriting. It wasn't Natasha's and it wasn't Tony's scrawl. Bruce went through the list of possibilities in his head and narrowed it down to two, but then added a third person and considered a fourth. The passports were what moved Maria, Pepper, and Clint to the top of the list. It's not that Steve couldn't have done this, but he would have tried to talk Bruce out of leaving first. After puzzling over the mystery a while longer, he let it drop because he didn't want to guess wrong, and besides, he might have overlooked someone. No matter who had done this, he was both touched by the kindness and chagrinned someone knew him so well she or he had anticipated his supposedly spontaneous move before he had made it.

Once he took a little time to clean up, change, and eat (the busier he stayed, the less he had to think about what he'd done), Bruce checked the guidance computer and looked for a suitable place to land. Late April on the Canadian coast wasn't exactly balmy. Fuel wasn't an issue yet, but he didn't want to push it. He and Tony had been working on integrated solar panels and a kinetic energy recovery system, but they had yet to test them on a long haul mission. Now might be the right time to put them on line. Bruce's hand flitted across the familiar section of the display as he brought the twin systems online. When the sun rose, the solar would fully power up, but KERS was already edging through the single digits. Now, if the new storage elements did their job, the system would keep the craft aloft almost indefinitely.

Bruce plugged in the coordinates for an inland location he remembered, which fit in that category of big enough to have the amenities with enough population for him to blend into it, yet small enough to be under the radar and out of the way. He planned to set the quinjet down well outside of the community, wait for daylight, and walk into town. He would take what he needed with him and leave the plane. Years ago, he would have landed in a more remote location and just walked into the forest and kept going. "You're getting soft, Banner," he told himself.

The quinjet had yet to started its descent and the ETA was about 30 minutes out when Bruce noticed the jet was correcting for turbulence that hadn't been there a moment before. Damn, things were never easy. He knew he wasn't alone in the skies, but he had no idea who it was. He quickly went through a list of options. They would soon be over land, so jumping was a possibility. There were parachutes, so he could do it as himself or he could just open up the rear door, jump, and let nature take its course. Neither of these options was particularly appealing for a variety of reasons. He took a gamble and decided to sit tight. His unknown neighbors didn't know he'd spotted them, so surprise was in his favor. He reasoned that they might make contact when he got over land, so it made sense to wait them out. Bruce checked his bag and pulled a coat out of a storage locker. He had on a spare pair of his uniform pants, so he tucked the envelope with the passports and currency into the inner pocket at the small of his back. It occurred to Bruce that he should have checked Natasha's and Steve's lockers for a spare firearm, but he quickly rejected that. If these folks were hostile, they weren't bringing just handguns to a Hulk fight. He started ticking off the possibilities. There wasn't much left of Hydra, but he kept them on the list because they probably had some cloaking tech. Aim or the Five Rings were possible, but not likely. That left government entities like General Ross or Talbot, but they probably didn't have the resources, especially for this efficient of an intercept. Finally, his primary suspect, he reasoned, was a resurrected S.H.I.E.L.D. They had the Helicarrier, Number 64—the very one the Other Guy helped gut prior to the Battle of New York—in Sokovia as a true deus ex machina, so they certainly had the opportunity to spot him visually when he left. The more he thought about it, he'd be surprised if it wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D. They probably had the same or similar stealth and cloaking tech, so he doubted he could outrun them and he certainly couldn't out maneuver them. He pulled up the display for the countdown till land—two minutes—and wondered if they were just going to follow him in or make contact. Mostly out of curiosity, Bruce enabled communications to see if they would hail him.

The moment they were over land, the display came to life and Bruce knew he was seeing a ghost. "Dr. Banner, this is Phil Coulson, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. We need to talk. Dr. Banner, do you copy?

"Answer me this first: Did Stark get your trading cards signed?" asked Bruce.

"He better not have! Those were vintage Captain America cards. That would have ruined them!"

Okay, that was at least in character. "To paraphrase Twain, rumors of your death…"

"…Have been exaggerated, greatly exaggerated. I know." Coulson's sigh was quite audible.

Bruce went ahead and flicked the screen control panel so the visual worked both ways. "So, what do we need to talk about, Director Coulson?" Bruce hadn't missed the title upgrade. Interesting, Fury had been speaking the truth when he said he was no longer the director, but wow, Bruce certainly hadn't considered this as a possibility.

"It's not something we should be discussing over the air even on a secure channel. We need to be face to face. Are you okay with us following you in?"

"Sure, I'm good with that. ETA is in ten minutes north of Bear Lake. Do you need the coordinates?"

"No, we'll just play wingman and follow you in. Over and out."

Bruce was already wondering if he should be kicking himself. He had barely got to talk with Phil Coulson while on the Helicarrier, but somehow his gut was saying this was the right guy. Because Bruce felt some responsibility for the whole fiasco that led up to Coulson's death, he was hoping this resurrection was genuine. He hadn't included Asguardians or aliens on his list of possible pursuers, but he was also hoping the Big Guy could help him out with determining that once they got up close. The Other Guy rather enjoyed thinking about what he'd done to Loki once he caught up with him. Someone had to do some avenging, after all. Thus, Bruce was willing to take the chance, but he wouldn't know until he got close enough to be sure.

Despite having only a few hours in proximity on the Helicarrier, Bruce felt like he had a good sense of who Coulson was from what Natasha and Clint had told him over the years since. Of course, Bruce had been at the funeral, tagging along with Tony and Pepper, who also knew Phil from interactions and emergencies past. Bruce remembered he had felt even more awkward than usual in the dark pinstripe suit and wingtip shoes he'd borrowed from Tony. He'd seen the dark-haired young woman Pepper explained was Coulson's girlfriend who'd recently moved out to Oregon. She was a professional cellist. They might have been affianced. Yes, that would make sense because she was taking it pretty hard. Bruce couldn't remember anymore first-hand details.

The more he thought about it, a lot of other people didn't know Coulson was still alive, and they had cared a great deal about him. Natasha and Clint had their suspicions; she'd told him as much when she'd talked about boxing up his locker. Wow, so that meant, assuming this was Phil Coulson, Bruce might be the only Avenger to know. Well, former Avenger anyway. He didn't want to ponder that right now. Instead, he distracted himself by thinking about cartoons and the periodic table as the quinjet descended over the rugged terrain.

Although he had trained with Natasha and Tony so he could manually fly and land the jet, Bruce let the onboard Friday program play pilot and bring the plane in once he had switched off the stealth mode. There was a brief moment when he wondered if some unknown foe in the air or on the ground was going to open fire, but the jet scanned the ground, descended, and set down atop a modest bluff just to the north of the lakeshore. In less than a minute, another quinjet with an updated S.H.I.E.L.D. paint scheme just visible in the landing lights descended from the dark sky and set down about 75 yards away. It was roughly 2:00am local time.

The display came to life again. "Dr. Banner, my place or yours?" Coulson asked.

"I need to stretch my legs. Let's meet in the middle."

"Sounds good." It was amazing how casual and unruffled Coulson sounded when he had to be at least a little nervous dealing with him. Well, that was kind of the agent's calling card—quietly confident and professional, even when completely outclassed by demigods and monsters. Bruce hoped there wasn't anymore to it. If he had nefarious intent, only a fool wouldn't wait for more backup.

Bruce keyed in his thumbprint as the identifier for accessing the jet and idled the system. He touched Tony's "Jarvis Is My Copilot" bumper sticker on the dash for good luck, pulled on the coat, slung his bag over his shoulder, and opened the rear hatch. He reminded himself that he could always run, and for once the rumbling presence of the Other Guy seemed to reassure Bruce that his back was covered. It was a new feeling because they were completely in this together. Normally, he would have been hoping the Big Guy might nap through the first encounter, but, truth be told, Bruce was okay with this closer contact with the Other Guy because he didn't want to ride the angry edge right now. He was getting tired of the internal fight and was ready to try something different. If the Big Guy was willing to offer his support, despite the years of bad feelings and mistrust between them, Bruce found himself wanting to meet him halfway.

After hours spent in the aircraft, the smells of the night on the bluff were almost overwhelming: dry grass, disturbed earth, the conifers, the lake, and the tang of the not-so-distant Atlantic. There was also the metallic smell and low-level hum of the cloaked jet that was keeping watch overhead as well. Bruce didn't need to see it because he could use his (and the Big Guy's) other senses. The Other Guy immediately was curious about the new sensory input, but he stayed focused and alert. Bruce shut the hatch and began walking through the dry knee-high grass toward the other grounded jet. When its hatch opened, Bruce recognized Coulson's lean silhouette as he pulled on a dark coat. He wasn't alone, but all Bruce could tell from this distance was that there was a dark-haired woman he didn't immediately recognize getting up from the pilot's seat. Coulson walked down the ramp and toward Bruce.

Bruce waited outside the semicircle of light spilling from the S.H.I.E.L.D. jet's open rear hatch doors. As the taller man approached, Bruce took several deep breaths and waited for a reaction from the Other Guy. Familiar, definitely familiar and from the Helicarrier was the verdict. Considering how little time Bruce had been around the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent, that was as good of a confirmation as he could hope the Big Guy would give since the Hulk and Coulson hadn't met face to face. Coulson held out his hand, "Dr. Banner, thank you for agreeing to talk with me. I know the timing is, well, a bit awkward."

Bruce snorted, "Barton always said you had—or I guess, you still have a gift for understatement." He took his hand out of his pocket and shook Coulson's offered hand. "It must be pretty important for you and your buddies to track me down." Bruce shot a glance into the night sky for emphasis.

"We have one plane keeping watch because we weren't the only ones following you. There's another one of ours leading the bogie off course toward the South Pacific, but there could be more."

"Thanks," said Bruce. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"Wow, you don't want to see my scar or a photo ID first?" Coulson joked.

"I'm sure it's a very impressive scar, but my instincts say you're genuine. Also, not to be rude, but you know the consequences of pissing me off better than most people."

Coulson nodded and smirked sheepishly.

"I'm also very curious why you're blowing your cover to me after this long. It can't be to hit me up with a repair bill for the Helicarrier."

"No," said Coulson, "it's not, but I will say those repairs kept her out of Hydra's hands. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to loan her to Furry yesterday. So, here's a belated thanks, Dr. Banner. Sometimes we all have fortuitous accidents." Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow and looked at the director. He certainly hadn't viewed the incident that way. Was he supposed to believe that this was the silver lining? Coulson smiled back inscrutably before taking a deep breath and continuing, "I'm actually the messenger for someone else, Dr. Banner, and also we can offer you support and assistance if you need it."

"I'm listening."

"You may want to sit down first. Might I suggest we go inside if you're okay with that?"

"I'm okay with it, but I don't think your pilot is," Bruce had noted that the female agent hadn't moved since he'd approached the jet and come into the light. Her hands had remained relaxed and at her sides, but her eyes hadn't left him for a second. She was Asian and carried herself confidently and with a sense of suppressed aggression like a warrior ready to spring into action. Now that he was close enough to get a full look, she was also naggingly familiar. Bruce could feel the Other Guy stirring with interest, so he took a couple of deep, slow breaths. He was certain Natasha and Clint would know her, yet he hadn't met her before unless it was too brief of an encounter to register. The Big Guy didn't know her either, but he recognized a fellow predator. Relying on the Big Guy, Bruce stood his ground and stared back.

Luckily, Coulson picked up on the tension. "Agent May, why don't you walk the perimeter."

"No problem," she said in a tight low voice. She zipped up her jacket and was quickly gone into the darkness.

Bruce finally exhaled. Yes, this was Malinda May, one of Natasha's S.H.I.E.L.D. colleagues and a friend. He had seen at least one group snapshot with her in it on Natasha's shelves. He'd just never met her. Bruce looked over at Coulson, "Did I do something to offend her?"

"It's not you; we're sort of in the middle of reorganizing at the top, and she's not happy with some of my decisions. Also, I think it may be your alter ego. She was exposed to an Asguardian artifact and sometimes that resonates in odd ways. She'll have it under control when she gets back." Coulson took one last concerned look into the darkness and climbed the ramp. He motioned Bruce in and shut the hatch behind them. "Please don't Hulk out, Dr. Banner. May will kill me." Knowing something of her reputation, Bruce thought he might not be kidding.

Coulson offered him a seat, and Bruce sighed, set down his duffle, and unfastened his coat before settling into the nearest jump seat, "I don't intend to turn green, but that might depend upon what you have to tell me."

Coulson unzipped his coat and sat down next to Bruce. "Have you heard of Dr. Stephen Strange?"

"The name sounds a little familiar, but no, I don't think so."

"Both you and he were on Hydra's most dangerous list of people they wanted eliminated through Project Insight. This is going to sound way out there, but he is Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, which is basically a guardian of this part of the universe on the mystic level. I know, it sounds crazy."

Bruce had actually heard of and seen crazier. "Maybe, but I don't have to tell you, Asguardian science looks a lot like magic to us, which makes Mysticism seem not so farfetched. I'm sorry, go ahead."

Coulson smiled and continued, "Strange contacted us a few days ago. Apparently, the events unfolding in Sokovia and New York have had some unforeseen consequences on more than one level of reality. They were enough to get his attention, and he asked for our help to do something about setting it right."

"Are you talking about my and Tony's actions?"

"Not necessarily what you've done, but the trajectory it's set you on."

Bruce wasn't sure what to make of that.

"What Strange wanted me to do is deliver this to you." Coulson reached inside his jacket to his breast pocket and pulled out a dark velvet bag with an object inside and handed it to Bruce.

The first thing he noticed was the object was unusually heavy for its small size. "Do you want me to take this out?"

"Yes, but I should tell you it's a 'Lesser Orb of Seeing,' a way of communicating directly with Strange. He should be able to answer your questions."

Bruce carefully held the object and pealed back the covering, so he could reveal the orb without directly touching it. It was a round crystal ball about the size of large walnut, completely clear and unusually heavy.

"You have to touch it with your hand for it to work. It's pretty trippy, so you might want to sit back."

Bruce pressed his lips together and looked at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director with a sideways glance, "Are you sure you want me to do this here in your plane?"

"This is probably as safe of a place as you're going to find."

"I don't mean for me. I mean for you."

Coulson gave Bruce an earnest and lopsided smile, "My instincts say to trust you, Dr. Banner."

"Okay, if you say so, Director," Bruce took several deep, calming breaths to center himself. The Other Guy seemed to be waiting quietly. Bruce rolled the orb into his right palm and held it. It was no longer heavy, but oddly warm and glowing with a pleasant orange-gold light deep in its center. Bruce wrapped his fingers around it and closed his eyes. That's when he heard the humming.