Notes: All praise to Miran Anders for this amazing chapter! She does the best Bruce Banner of all time and we love her for it :D

Chapter 14: It's Not Easy Being Green

October 20

Somewhere Underneath SHIELD

The young man slept uncomfortably. It was deadly silent, except for a low-pitched hum in his ears that shifted slowly up the scale and grew exponentially louder.

Almost as if someone was doing a sound check on his hearing.

When it abruptly went supersonic, he cried out, and felt himself sinking back into a misty, vague unconsciousness.

This time, all he heard was a soft sigh.

He opened his eyes, squinting even in the dim light, and blinked several times at the figure sitting next to the bed, holding his hand softly.

The bed.

Like an old, fond memory, it was a familiar bed, soft and comfortable. The quilt that covered him was patterned with stars and planets in glowing shades of blue. His mother had made it, saving and trading for scraps of fabrics in stellar patterns. His hand brushed over it, and he frowned.

"This can't be here…" The quilt didn't exist anymore. He knew this. His father had used it to clean up a mess he made in a drunken fit and threw it out afterwards. The young man felt his fists clenching.

"It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright."

His eyes widened as he looked at the woman sitting there, smiling gently at him. For a moment, he felt as if he couldn't breathe or speak. When he finally did, it was in the soft voice of an eight-year-old boy.

"…Mom?"

Her smile broadened and she leaned over to hug him. "It's so good to see you, sweetheart. Even for a little while."

"Mom? But… how? And wait, what? Why only a little while? I'm finally done!"

She smiled at him, more sadly now. "Done? No, dearheart, you were done too soon. You get a chance to live your life."

"Live my life? I don't want–"

"It'll be alright–"

Abruptly, the sound squealed in his hearing once more, and he slapped his hands over his ears, trying to block it out. "No!" His eyes opened into a bright white light, and he screamed.

Voices yelled to each other. "Not yet." "Put him back under!" "I don't know if we're doing him a favor or…"

The sounds faded once more.

Only when he was sure the soft fabric beneath his hands was his childhood quilt did he dare open his eyes again. His mother still sat beside the bed, tears in her eyes.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

She nearly laughed. "I'm fine, sweetheart. But you need to go back. You can't fight them forever."

"Like hell I can't."

"No, darling. You have to go back. You have a life to finish. Please."

He stared into her eyes, so like his own. "But… damn, it's been so hard." He looked down, almost ashamed. "I'm angry. I'm angry at dad, I'm angry at the way the world works, I'm angry at myself." He looked up at her again. "I'm angry all the time."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "That comes with these," she said, pointing to his chest. "These bodies, they have emotions that can overwhelm us. But it's all in the body. The chemicals, the way it works. That's why we have this." She pointed to his head and tapped his forehead with a grin. "You can feel anything you want, anytime you want. But you have the power to decide what to do with your feelings. With anger. Or with love. Or with fear. You always have a choice."

Her fingers went from pointing to running through his tousled curls. "You've grown up so handsome! And I'll see you again. But not until you've had your time."

He looked up at her and heard the screech start again, more softly this time. "I'll try. I really will. I promise."

"I know you will."

The sound grew louder, and he took several deep breaths as he squinted against it. "I love you, Mom."

She held his hand more tightly. "I love you, Bruce. Be good, sweetheart."

This time the squeal ended abruptly, and he felt his body jerk unsteadily. He heard voices again.

"Anything?"

"The scans say he's conscious."

"Yeah, but–"

"Gentlemen. Perhaps a bit more quiet…"

Bruce opened his eyes slowly. His head tilted toward the side of the bed where his mother had been in some other where, and when he saw she was gone, his eyes began to water.

"Xavier, listen, I think he's –"

"Yes, I can see that. Leave us, please. And bring the lights to sixty percent."

The body he was in felt strange, sluggish, and it was only in retrospect that he realized how light and airy he felt with his mother. He closed his eyes once more and tried to remember her. His mind seemed to accept the visit — whether he was the one visiting or she was, he couldn't quite pin down — more easily than it could accept this body. He tried moving his fingers, and they did as he asked… but they seemed to be working through a bad circuit.

Then he remembered how he died.

He sat up suddenly, and his hand went to his thigh without his brain trying to guide it, finding the spot where he had been stabbed with a sharpened blade of rebar, where his life had bled out. Logan. The rain. The storm. His breathing became faster, and he heard a soft voice.

"It's alright, Mr. Banner. As you can see, you're quite alive."

Taking a deep breath, Bruce looked over at the man in the wheelchair and frowned before he placed him. "Xavier? …What… What's going on?" His voice felt and sounded like he hadn't spoken in a month, raspy and dry. He coughed and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand by the bed. He took a small sip before setting it down again. His stomach appeared to be less settled than his brain, which didn't say much. He took a few breaths and blinked, glancing back to the man in the chair.

For a long moment, the younger man felt like he was being studied, as sapphire-bright eyes seemed to look straight through him. Then, with an almost imperceptible nod, the man responded. "Hello, Mr. Banner." Bruce squinted at him.

"'Mr. Banner'? Does that mean I'm supposed to call you 'Professor'?"

"That is your prerogative. Although I'm fine with 'Charles', if you're more comfortable with that."

Nodding vaguely, Bruce looked around the room and then lay down again, slowly. It seemed to be a cross between a lab and a hospital room. Several machines were beeping quietly as they measured something about him… and now that he noticed, there were several leads attached to his head and chest.

"I was dead." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Clearly the boy was capable of making logical deductions and was processing his new reality more calmly — and indeed, more acutely — than they had imagined.

"How."

Xavier frowned, surprised. "How did you die?"

"No, that I remember." He closed his eyes and thought about it again, saw the rain, the blood, felt the… felt… His eyes opened quickly. "I can't feel it."

The man in the chair nearly chuckled. "Well, I should hope not."

"No. I can't feel the anger. The fear. I can't feel—" His eyes widened. "I saw her. I saw her then. Right before — right as—" He rubbed his hands over his face and then turned to look into the blue eyes once more. "Right after I thought I saw my father."

Charles paused a moment, then nodded. "At some point — not now — we may want to study your reactions during your fight with Logan. Right now, however, it may be best just to say that you had a stress-related response to the fight, and—"

"Stress-related my ass. I had… I had a psychotic break. I thought my father… I thought Logan was my father. I wanted to kill him." His pulse surged a bit, but it was true. He knew it was true.

Charles tipped his head again, surprised. "Yes." After a few moments of loaded silence, he went on. "But we believe you are stable now. Mentally and emotionally."

"Oh, you believe that, do you?" The boy laughed quietly. "Then I would suggest you don't get me angry."

"There are ways of dealing with anger, Bruce. You have a choice."

All the color abruptly drained from Banner's face. "What did you say?"

"I said, there are—"

"My mother said that. My mother. When I was dead. I was with her."

Charles smiled warmly, curious. "Really? I'd love to hear—"

"Shut up. Did you plant some memory of her? Of me talking to her? Was that supposed to make me believe everything you say? How did you know about the quilt? How did—"

The machinery began beeping a bit more insistently, and Charles glanced at it. Two men appeared at the door, but he waved them off.

"I assure you — I promise you. We didn't give you any false memories. We don't have the technology. We can deaden a memory, make it less painful… but we can't add our own version."

Bruce slowed his breathing, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he calmed himself. "Yet?"

The professor exhaled a laugh as the machines quieted again. "Yes, I suppose 'yet' is appropriate. But it would be an ethical nightmare."

"And killing people just to bring them back to life isn't? And for what? What the hell does the Capitol think—"

"The Capitol isn't part of this." The chair wheeled closer to the bed, and the man leaned in to speak with quiet intensity. "This is a rebellion, Mr. Banner. Our nation has reached the breaking point. We're trying to save all those that we think can help."

"A breaking point." Bruce nodded thoughtfully, his features hardening. "So the nation is ready for a psychotic break as well. And you want me to be part of it?"

Charles sat for a long moment, watching the younger man thoughtfully. "An interesting deduction. But not the case. We are trying to save the best and brightest, the ones who can help bring a new era to Marvel."

"Nice that they — that we don't have a choice in the matter. Kind of like how we didn't have a choice about being reaped." His brow furrowed. "How many of...us…"

At least this was a question the professor had anticipated. "There are several of your 'classmates' who have been revived. There are a few others who were revived in the past. You are part of an elite group."

"Elite. Right." Bruce looked off in annoyance, then back in curiosity. "So… is Sin one of the select?"

"Your district partner? As a matter of fact, yes. Although there was some discussion about the suitability—"

"Suitability?" Brown eyes flared in shock. "You pick and choose who you'll bring back to life? Playing the God hand pretty heavily, aren't you, considering you're distancing yourself from the monsters in the Capitol?"

The man shook his head and looked off in the distance. "Bruce… perhaps you would like to take a walk?"

Bruce managed a laugh. "Way to change the subject, Charles." With a surprisingly smooth movement, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled the sticky leads from his head and chest. The machinery responded with scientific panic. Looking over at them, Bruce frowned briefly as he studied the devices, then pushed assorted buttons and switches until they were all silent. He heard a chuckle and looked back at Charles. "What?"

"You're moving much better."

"As long as I don't think about it. Kinetic memory seems to be intact. The voluntary connections to the brain will probably take a little more time to smooth out, especially if you were regenerating neurons…" The man sitting stared for a moment longer than necessary.

"Mr. Banner — I think you will be an amazing addition to our crew."

"Yeah, great. What if I don't want to be part of this amazing crew?"

Charles smiled warmly. "And why, Bruce, wouldn't you want to defeat Thanos? To bring peace and equality back to Marvel?"

For a long moment Bruce stared at , he carefully slipped off the side of his bed and nodded toward the door. "Is there anything I can wear out there? Or are we 'resurrected' tributes all walking around au natural?"

The man looked at the floor, clearly trying not to laugh. "There are some comfortable clothing choices there." He pointed to a bench that held folded tee shirts, sweatpants, and several versions of underwear. "Of course, if you'd rather be au natural, as you so blithely put it, feel free."

Bruce shrugged and nodded before walking to the bench. He was a little dizzy, and his legs felt a bit weak, but he sat down on the bench and began to put things on to cover the unusual sensations. Besides, he felt chilly. I guess dying will do that to a body. He stood to tuck in his shirt and almost chuckled when he saw his glasses sitting on the bench as well.

Picking them up, he looked at them thoughtfully. He put them on, looked around, took them off, and put them on again. Looking over the top of the frames at Xavier, he pursed his lips briefly. "So, Charles. Why do I still have these?"

The man shrugged, not breaking eye contact. "Because you seem to be comfortable with them. The prescription is so minute that you barely needed them before. I think putting them on simply allows you to focus more closely, mentally and emotionally more so than physically." They stared at each other for a bit, with a distinctly stubborn although shared expression. Finally, Charles shook his head. "Come now, Bruce. Surely you can admit you hide behind your glasses because it makes others more comfortable with your mental superiority if you have an obvious physical defect…"

There was a deafening little silence.

Bruce took the glasses off and turned them in his hands before hanging them on the neck of his shirt. "Right. And so… that brings up another thing, doesn't it, Charles."

The older man frowned lightly. "Such as?"

"Such as," he said, stepping back to the bed and leaning against it. "If you want me to trust you, trust what is going on here… why are you lying to me?"

Charles' head pulled back a bit, and he frowned in confusion. "I haven't lied to you, Mr. Banner. I assure you, everything I've said is absolutely—"

Bruce's eyes had gone cold, the brown carrying some ice in its gaze. "You aren't lying by talking. And I'm quite sure you know what I mean. Do I have to spell it out?"

Xavier blinked once or twice, then began to turn his chair toward the door. "Perhaps in time, you'll believe me—"

Bruce grabbed the arms of the chair and spun it roughly back to face him. He leaned over and hissed in the older man's face. "If you can bring the dead back to life — if you can heal any injury..." His voice was a bare whisper. "Then why, good sir, are you still sitting in that chair?"

Blue eyes met brown and fought like the sea beating against a rocky shore. The sea might win eventually, but it could take millennia. When Charles spoke, it was a controlled, explosive command. "Back away, Mr. Banner."

Bruce squinted at the man and stood up. He took a step backwards, but only one. "I'm waiting for an answer, Xavier."

"And I'm giving you one."

Charles took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he stared into Bruce's eyes and stood up. Bruce backed up another step, startled, and Charles stepped forward to close the distance between them. His voice was a sharpened, well-articulated whisper.

"The Capitol can know nothing of this. If they did, they would find out everything. I am seen too often, needed by the Capitol too often. So yes, I have the use of my legs, but I cannot actually use them. Not yet. Not until the rebellion succeeds." He took a breath, and Bruce saw he was trembling, though whether from the exertion or from passion, it was difficult to tell. In any case, the man stepped back and sat carefully in his chair once more. "If you feel like you're trapped, Mr. Banner, all I can say is you're not the only one."

Bruce stared at him for a long moment. Then, he nodded slowly. "So… that chair."

"Yes?"

"It's your pair of glasses."

They watched each other, warily, until Charles exhaled a thin laugh. "Yes. I suppose it is. And the Capitol definitely needs to feel superior. Otherwise, they might think I'm dangerous."

"Which you certainly are." Bruce looked at him thoughtfully and extended his hand. "Thank you. For the truth. And for trusting me with this."

Charles exhaled and took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly. "You're welcome. And please, bear in mind that you're one of four — well, five, now — living people who know this. It isn't necessary for anyone else to find out. Nor would it be prudent."

Bruce nodded. He considered the specification of living people. "I can see that. It must be... hard for you."

Charles gave him a clear-eyed gaze. "There are many, many sacrifices being made. We must make sure they're worth it."

There was a long pause as Bruce settled out his thoughts. "So… they were doing this way back when you were a tribute?"

A chuckle shook Charles' shoulders. "You make me sound even older than I am. No, they were not. As a victor, I was introduced to several incredibly brilliant scientists and doctors, who hoped to heal my spinal injuries… they were not approved of by the powers that be, because I was such a brave little example of victory." A brief but stinging memory tightened his features. "But a small group was determined to help me, nonetheless." He took a breath, his eyes distant. "They started what we now call the Tahiti program. I can never thank them enough for what they did for me."

His gaze grew thoughtful. "The first head of the project was Dr. Iteyak. A complicated man, but he started something that was clearly important. The Capitol found him to be … dangerous. They felt he was power hungry, and subsequently, he vanished. Simply… disappeared." Charles shook his head sadly. "Luckily, his son Hishe was even more brilliant, and technology had advanced considerably. He was the one who followed through, saw the process to its logical conclusion." He looked Bruce in the eye. "My healing was merely a secondary development of the Tahiti program. And even Tahiti can't heal every injury. But we learn more every day."

Bruce stared at him. "But… you can't use what they gave you. You don't use them enough, muscles atrophy. Your legs must be weak."

"Yes. But someday, Mr. Banner…"

"Yes." There was something surprisingly determined in Banner's voice as he echoed the statement. "Someday, Professor."

When they entered the cafeteria, Bruce was wearing his glasses again, and Charles rolled in his wheelchair. "I'm sure you're hungry, Mr. Banner, even if your body isn't sure what it feels yet. As you can see, there's plenty of food here."

And indeed there was. Tables along one wall of the room held what looked like a five-star restaurant brunch buffet. Bowls of fruit, stacks of waffles, and an almost obscene heap of bacon. Bruce wore a thoughtful expression and was clearly distracted… until he saw Tony Stark.

"What the — damn it. You brought him back?" His heart leapt in a strange confluence of emotions when he saw the boy he had kept alive for so long, the one whom he had called a friend. As his gaze scanned the room, he saw a glimpse of red hair, and suddenly, his anger peaked.

Striding toward his former ally, Bruce felt his heart beating hard. Stark turned and saw him coming.

"Hey, big guy. We were wondering when you'd—"

He was cut off short by a swift punch to the jaw. Bruce shook out his hand and stepped forward to stand over the fallen boy, grabbing him by the collar and pulling his fist back to strike again.

"Hey, Banner! Let him go. Come on, this is—" Steve had to step back when Bruce growled through clenched teeth at him.

"Get. Away."

Steve put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Look. You don't understa—"

Without looking away from Tony, Bruce shot his hand out sideways, catching Steve square in the chest and throwing him several feet backwards. Several tributes whooped as the blond hit a table, upending a bowl and landing on the floor with his head in what quickly became a mound of mashed strawberries.

"I said—"

"Mr. Banner."

Something about Xavier's voice made Bruce freeze. He looked up and saw only clear sapphire eyes. No condemnation, no judgement. Charles was waiting. That moment was enough for Bruce to get hold of his emotions and drop Stark back to the floor. "He raped her. Tortured her. Why would you bring him back?"

Tony lifted himself up on his elbows and stared. "I did what? To who?" He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. "Don't tell me you got a doctored video too."

"Sin! I saw the... I saw…" Bruce's voice ran down, and he turned to look where Sin was sitting, her mouth agape and her eyes sparkling. His voice became more desperate. "Sin? Did he hurt you, or not?"

The redhead got up and walked over to him. "Damn, Schoolboy. I didn't know you had it in you. Nice shot." She motioned with her thumb toward Rogers, who was pulling chunks of strawberry goo out of his hair.

Clint had walked over to help the blond up. "Great. We'll be able to smell him coming. Even more."

"Thanks a lot." Steve grabbed the towel that Clint handed him but couldn't help noticing the smirk that went with it.

Bruce stared at his district partner. "Sin. I saw… "

Her expression grew more serious. "Dunno what you saw. We were working together for a while. He didn't… he didn't touch me." She frowned curiously at him, waiting.

Banner blinked several times and stared down at the floor until she knocked him on the arm. "Hey. You don't think he'd have survived if he tried anything with me, do you?" When he looked back to her eyes, he saw that there was a bit of grateful surprise in them, and she spoke again, so only he could hear. "Thanks for defending me, Schoolbro." Then she grinned, and it was so contagious that Bruce couldn't help grinning as well.

"I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad it... never happened."

"Yeah, me too."

"Ah, someone could be concerned about the man lying on the floor, couldn't they?"

Bruce had the decency to flush slightly as he turned back to Tony. "Sorry, Tony. I didn't realize—"

"Yeah, yeah, none of us did. No hard feelings, big guy." Bruce reached out to help him up, and they looked at each other closely. "Let's blame the bastards, not each other. Deal?"

"Deal."

Kate Bishop, who had been watching from the sidelines, glanced at Charles and shook her head. "Good thing we have a rumpus room for these boys. You could choke on the testosterone fumes around here otherwise." Everyone turned to look at her, and she giggled. "I'm still hungry. Did Steve moosh all the berries?"

October 23

Tahiti Wing

"What do you say, Bishop? How about a little mental spar? Keep your mind limber?"

Tony was seated across the rec room with a chess set, and when he saw her come in from her training with North, he grinned her way, waving the white queen at her.

She just shook her head. By this point, even with Pepper around, it was well-established that Tony was a consummate flirt. At least this one she could be honest about, though. "I don't actually know how to play," she admitted.

But that just had Tony's grin lighting up. "No problem! I can teach you how," he said.

"That's alright," she said, waving him off as she headed for the bookshelves instead to find another Agatha Christie. She'd finished Murder on the Orient Express and wanted to read more. She'd discovered she really did like mystery novels, and they were a great way to pass the time when really all they had to do otherwise was eat, sleep, and train.

"Come on, gorgeous. I promise I won't bite on the first lesson," Tony teased her way.

"Really, I'm fine," she told him with a little laugh as she found And Then There Were None and pulled it from the shelf before she turned to see that Tony had the most dramatic pout on his face that, okay, she honestly had to laugh at.

"You're breaking my heart, Bishop," he said.

"You'll get over it as soon as Pepper shows up," she teased right back as she vaulted over the back of a chair and settled in with her book right as Kurt arrived as well — fresh from training with Matt. He made a show of going to the bookshelves to pull out the book he was in the middle of, though there was really no way that either of them were actually going to be reading as he slid into the seat next to her.

"What's he up to this time?" Kurt whispered her way as they settled into their usual sitting position — so close they were practically touching, but without actually breaking any rules.

"He wants to play chess."

"That's actually relatively harmless," Kurt said with a smirk.

"Well, I don't actually know how to play, so he wants to give lessons."

"Ah," Kurt said, nodding his understanding. He leaned forward with a bit of sparkle in his eyes. "You know, if you want, I know how to play chess too. And I think a good chess game wouldn't actually break the non-fraternization rules, right?"

Kate glanced his way and gave him a clear once-over before she just started to grin. "That's true," she agreed. "We'd have to get Tony to clear out, though, or we'll have to endure him pouting."

"Let him find a partner and he'll be fine. There's a second chess set over with the games," Kurt said with an easy shrug as, for the time being, the two of them fell into actually reading the books they had in their hands.

Eventually, Rhodey, one of the trainers, stopped by just to check in and got roped into a chess game with Tony — and Kate and Kurt waited just long enough to be polite before they went to a table of their own to set up a board.

"So… chess," Kate said as Kurt started to set up the pieces.

"Yes, chess," he agreed with a little smile. "Have you ever seen anyone play before?"

She nodded. "Eli tried to teach me once, but it was way more fun to shoot things with America than it was to let Nate sit by me and try to micromanage my every move." She shrugged. "Plus Tommy showed up halfway through the explanation and challenged me to a race, and we all know that's more fun than anything else."

He nodded. "It sounds like there was never a dull moment back in Twelve."

She looked down, with faded sadness in her eyes. "Then I've got you nice and fooled, Kurt. Half the time I was bored out of my skull — whenever the Sentinels got suspicious, we had to lie low, and that meant hanging out with dear old Dad."

Kurt reached over and touched her hand with his finger, which startled her into looking up at him again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It must have been hard." He took his hand away, running his finger across her knuckles as he did. The sun came back out in her smile, and she looked at the board.

"Okay. Where do we start?"

He took a few minutes to explain the names of the pieces and the different ways they could move, and Kate repeated some of his explanations back to him. He knew that was her style of learning, and he'd seen her do the same in training by repeating back the steps a trainer told her. It seemed to work well for her, so he made sure she was done before he started the game.

He moved a pawn forward. She did too.

"Do you miss yours?" Kate asked suddenly.

Kurt looked up at her. "What?"

"Your family. The people you left behind in Nine." She wasn't looking at the board. "I know it kills me sometimes just thinking about it, and that's mostly my friends. I can't imagine having an actual whole family I cared about on the other side."

Kurt frowned and moved his pawn. "I try not to think about it," he admitted. "My mother…Margali. I'm sure she's got her hands full with the twins trying to take care of them on her own. I made enough money that I was able to help take care of us, and without me…" He trailed off. "I just keep thinking that Fury and Coulson promised we'll be out of here when their plans are over, and then I'll see them again."

"You know that for sure?"

He shook his head. "I have faith," he said.

Kate nodded thoughtfully as she tapped her fingers on the table. "My problem is I'm half-convinced I'll see all my friends coming through the Tahiti program — or, you know…just the Games," she said suddenly.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at her.

She pointed at herself. "I'm the second to get reaped in three years from our group. I'm starting to think it's not a coincidence."

"I'm sure it's not," Kurt said, then paused and held up a hand when Kate tried to move her knight. "No, you can't go there."

"Why not?" Kate stared at her knight in confusion.

"It's two up, one over, not three up."

"Oh, right." Kate moved her knight down one space and frowned at it. "All the other pieces have less complicated rules."

"That's just how the knights work."

At that, a mischievous sort of smile came over Kate's face, and she grinned with her tongue in her teeth. He didn't know what for.

Bruce and Wade made their way into the lounge to relax after their training sessions, chatting quietly about their coaches. Once they were through the doors, though, Bruce gravitated naturally to the chess boards, sizing up the contests and giving Kate an encouraging smile when Kurt said she was learning how to play.

"Good for you. Chess is relaxing," Bruce said with a warm smile.

She frowned at him, incredulous. "Relaxing? How? There are way too many rules to this thing." She gestured at the knight she'd tried to move earlier as evidence.

Bruce's brown eyes looked intently over the board. "It's complicated enough to get your mind off whatever you're working on… I'm assuming the subconscious still is at it, but with chess… figuring out the next ten moves or so…"

"Ten?" Kate looked at Kurt, and a laugh bubbled out. "Seriously? I'm barely figuring out my last one!"

"It gets easier. Kind of like the workouts."

Kate shook her head and grimaced as Kurt moved a bishop. "I hated that my body couldn't do everything it could before."

Bruce squatted next to the table to talk at her level. "Have you noticed? If you're not thinking, just letting the body do what it remembers… things are easier." She pulled a frown at him and he grinned. "Seriously. Aren't they?"

"Well… archery was certainly easier than the new stuff I was learning. I mean, more than just easier, more… comfortable? Because when I'm in the zone, I don't think…."

"I know, right? It's weird. It's hard to try not to think, but our bodies are used to it. It's called kinetic memory, the muscle memory of movement. It's why you don't have to think about it when you tie your shoes, or catch a ball, or—" Bruce seemed to be getting wrapped up in the excitement of his own thought.

Wade, who had beelined for the snack tables, came back with a bowl of carrots and bleu cheese dip in time to interrupt. "Personally, I do my best to not think as much as is humanly possible. That's probably why I'm so amazing." Bruce and Kate shared an amused grin before Wade went on. "Aw, lookit the Kart, all domestically chessy."

Bruce stood and glanced away from the game to look at him. "You play?"

The other boy shrugged. "Not much. I could probably only beat half of the Kart—" His eyes abruptly widened. "OHMYGOD. Not Kart! No, no… KUTE!" He pronounced it 'cute', and began to dance around with his carrots, nearly bumping into the table that Tony and Rhodey were playing on.

"Watch it," Tony said, without rancor. "And phonetically, it would more likely be 'coot'."

"Nope. They're riding in the Kute Kart now."

Bruce glanced at Tony, gesturing with a thumb toward Wade. "As opposed to the one on the Coot Cart?"

"Exactly."

"Hey! I'm telling you, they're Kute! They're SO Kute! Just look at them!"

Everyone turned to look at the would-be couple, only to see the table was now empty. The chessboard was still set in mid-game, but one king and one queen were lying down.

The remaining boys looked at each other, and Wade pinched his lips together. "I see. Well, I win, anyway. They're off being Kute together…"

Bruce sighed and shook his head as he looked at the game still in progress between Tony and Rhodey. "I'll play the winner."