~~Tenth Short~~

"I still can't believe that having a picnic was the big thing you were missing out on," grumbled Natasha as she tromped through the grass of the park, basket in hand, "Seriously, why not a movie or restaurant? Something inside."

"Tony has a home theater, you know," replied Banner cheerfully, blanket slung over one shoulder, flexible cooler over the other, "And the connections and money to get a copy of any new release he wants. I'm pretty sure he'd let you use it whenever you want if you ask nicely."

He continued walking, heading up a small sunny hill in the park.

"Besides," he grinned back at her, "You can't picnic alone. People give you pitying looks and start tossing money into the basket."

"That doesn't sound so bad…" she smirked.

"Well, for me, the next step usually involves tanks," he replied wryly.

"You're welcome."

"I'd tell you to get out, but we're already there."

"You could always change it up, tell me to get in."

"The tank? Nah… you're scary enough as it is."

"You really think I'm scary? I'm touched."

The casual bantering continued all the way up the hill, through the picnic set-up, and through most of the food as well. That was one thing she hadn't expected, the banter. Someone like Tony, it was a given, but it also always felt like a competition. And a competition he was dead set on winning… and probably would. Here… well, there still was some of that, trying to one-up every comment, but it was the sort of competition that ended with everyone getting a participation award and a Fruit Roll-Up. Also, Bruce never seemed all that interested in actually winning, just in keeping it going as long as possible.

It was… nice.

Though, the more cynical part of her knew it was likely just a defense tactic. He kept people happy and amused and, in return, the chances of running into a situation that might cause an incident went down. She'd used similar to defuse dangerous situations, though more to soften potential opponents for attack than to protect them.

"So… why'd you do it, Natasha?"

Immediately, she went into defensive mode, jerked out of the more pleasant thoughts. Had he been reading through her files now that they were out in the open? Or was it a trick, to gauge her guilt? Was this why he'd asked her out somewhere more remote?

Luckily, he answered her questions for her before she could dig herself a word grave.

"Switch sides, I mean. Join the side of the angels. Even if the halos were a bit… dented, to carry that metaphor past the breaking point."

She had hundreds of reasons, carefully constructed for most foreseeable situations. They'd gotten her past SHIELD, past the government screening, the special committees, even Loki, though she still wasn't sure he'd completely bought it.

But something stopped her from hauling out the same old tired lies and half-truths once again. Most people wouldn't have understood, even Clint barely had when she'd told him… but Bruce? He'd been there. Past there. There and back again.

She couldn't tell him everything, but the highlights would do. Test the waters, so to speak.

"Aren't you in a cheery mood," she teased, "Thought normal picnic talk was supposed to be about nature and gossip and food."

Before he could come up with some snarky reply, she continued, "But, since you asked so nicely… you'll probably regret it."

"Well, I gotta say, I'd be nothing without regret. So let's hear it."

Natasha took a deep breath. Somehow this felt like the sort of thing that should be talked about in the dead of night in a windowless room and only in whispers. Probably because that's how she'd told Clint. Outside on a sunny day surrounded by sandwich-making materials really just ruined the mood.

It was probably intentional. Relaxing, non-confrontational, open environment… she was over-analyzing again.

"Well, long story short, there was a mission. There were lots of them, of course, I never thought twice about it. You don't think, you're trained not to. Just finish the job and go to the next one. But this one… things went wrong. It happens, the kill isn't clean, a non-target gets caught up in things, property gets destroyed. But this time," she shook her head, "This one time, an entire hospital was collateral. It wasn't supposed to be, but a smoke bomb must have caught a curtain alight… all the doors were locked save one to flush the target out…"

She looked him square in the eyes, "They all burned alive. Slowly. It took hours. And I waited outside through it all and eliminated my target when he finally ran out, when he'd finally realized none of the other doors would work, long past when the others could have been saved. Just like a good little assassin should do. And afterwards, when I was debriefed by my superiors… they congratulated me for a job well done."

She let it sink in for a moment before continuing, "I didn't leave then, or even that year. But it was the first time I ever questioned a mission. Back then of course, I thought I was just guilty that I hadn't been reprimanded for the mess. But every mission after, I started wondering if it was worth it. All the death, the casualties. It was like finally waking up from a nightmare, looking back and really seeing the truth of what I was. When Clint made me an offer, I didn't refuse. And, at the time, I thought it was going to end up being an execution."

She was met with silence. It didn't particularly bother her… Bruce had likely expected one of the stories she usually gave, that she'd planned to give him. Not a bombshell like she'd just dropped.

Finally, he spoke, "Well… that certainly was a story."

"I'm inclined to agree," she nodded, "Not one I tell very often."

"Now that, I can empathize with," he said wryly, "Actually, I think most of my stories fall into that particular category."

She felt a tinge of relief. It was casual acceptance, but she couldn't really ask for more, knowing what skeletons she had in her closet. Of course, she should have expected it from someone who was used to being responsible for terrible things out of his control. Brain washing was decently close enough to… whatever the hell he had going on inside his head.

"Awww… you can't go saying something like that without following with a story," she teased, poking him playfully in the arm, "Out with it: why are you here?"

"Me?" he leaned back, looking inordinately smug, "Oh… once upon a time, I made a promise that if a certain experiment worked, I'd go out and get some sun."

"And so you joined the Avengers," she replied flatly, "To get... sun."

"Oh, no," he laughed, "That's just why I wanted a picnic. Come on. You were there for the Avengers recruitment. And that, I did because I didn't want that poor rickety house to get smashed into toothpicks. It really didn't deserve that."

Well, it was probably too early to expect a straight answer. She'd had years of training and reconciliation to get to where she was now. He was still in the middle somewhere.

"Okay… I'll bite. I'm guessing the experiment worked. What was it?"

The smile suddenly evaporated as he suddenly became incredibly interested in pouring himself a glass of iced tea. It was answer enough for her.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Tony spent three hours telling me a story about some guy he talked to in an elevator?" he asked suddenly, partial smile back.

Yeah. He really wasn't ready.

"Go ahead."

As he started the story, she began to tune out, falling deeper into her own thoughts. If she was going to get him stable, it was going to take a lot more picnics.