Hello! ModernDayBard again! I have the bittersweet privilege to write the last installment in this story, which not only wraps up this whole series, but also provides the conclusion to the Bruce/Brooklyn arc. Hopefully, you've enjoyed reading these as much as we've enjoyed writing them!
Two reminders: 1: this is all pre-Ultron, and 2: I don't own The Avengers or Brooklyn.
So many times, Dr. Banner found himself in situations where all he could do was wonder, 'how in the world did this come about?' Take that afternoon, for an example:
Brooklyn wasn't feeling well, which worried Steve, as the serum had ensured he hadn't gotten sick since the early 40's, and logic would dictate the same be true of his dog. Still, all examinations showed that Brooklyn was, in fact, ill, (fortunately, with a non-life-threatening bug, though it still left her very uncomfortable and temporarily helpless), despite the fact that the serum's effects were still in place. In the end, they supposed, it didn't really matter why or how—Brooklyn was simply sick, and she would need care as she recovered.
And it wasn't as though there were a shortage of willing caretakers, either: Brooklyn was, at this point, the darling of everyone living in the Avenger's Tower. Even Bruce, who'd tip-toed around the dog ever since 'the lab incident', and who had lost her trust after an unexpected 'code green', hated seeing the normally energetic black lab so listless and in obvious discomfort. No, it wasn't willing caretakers they lacked—only able.
Or, more accurately: available.
Tony, for one, was at a week-long conference he could not extricate himself from, however much he wanted to, and 'Hawkeye' had left days ago—before Brooklyn got sick—only saying that the 'higher ups' had called him away for a while, and he would be unavailable except in case of world-threatening catastrophe. No problem—Steve and Nat were Brooklyn's two favorite people, and more than willing to nurse (spoil) the black dog until she recovered…then, they were both called away on individual missions within three hours of each other, leaving Bruce alone. In the Tower. In charge of caring for the lab who was just as afraid of him as she was of water.
Technically, Thor was available—he was on-world and didn't have a specific mission—but he was currently spending some time in Europe with Jane. It was a testament to Bruce's discomfort and desperation that he actually considered interrupting the Asgardian's off-time, but ultimately, he realized just how bad an idea that truly was.
Left with absolutely no viable alternatives, Dr. Banner resigned himself to his task, internally resolving to do so while minimizing actual contact with the ailing dog.
Carefully, Bruce approached where Brooklyn lay on her cushion in the main living area, the next dose of her medicine in one hand, a bowl of water in the other. He saw the black dog tense as she smelled his approach, but in her weakened state, she was unable to bolt. Not completely sure how to soothe her, but certain her current stress level could only negatively impact the lab, the curly-haired scientist crouched in front of his patient and began to speak in low, (hopefully) comforting tones.
"It's alright, girl; nothing's going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you. You're going to get better—everything's going to be alright…" and so on. He kept talking as he proffered the medicine, which was hidden in one of the lab's favorite treats. She took it and, thankfully, swallowed it without any protests, but her caregiver attributed that more to illness-related weakness, rather than any kind of trust on Brooklyn's part.
Still, he kept up his soothing patter as the ebony-furred dog slowly lapped up the bowl of water. By the time Dr. Banner stood, Roger's dog had released the earlier tension.
By her next dose, she'd consented to let him lay a tentative hand on her head—hadn't even flinched—and after the third, he'd pretty much parked himself by her cushion, and somehow, the two had become unlikely friends.
This was demonstrated some weeks later, after Brooklyn had fully recovered, and during one of Bruce's darker moods. The mild scientist had withdrawn from the others, wrestling—as he did sometimes—about whether the good he was doing as the Hulk outweighed the risk he ran every time he let the 'other guy' take over, and about how long it would be before he crossed the line and lost the trust of his friends and teammates. A part of him regretted forging such bonds, for, though he truly cared for the others, this time with them couldn't last, and isolation would be so much lonelier, more painful now that he had tasted the alternative—
A cold, wet nose in his hand, and a warm, furry body pressed against his leg cut short his melancholy musings, and Bruce couldn't resist a small smile as he stroked the smooth fur of Brooklyn's forehead, reminded at once that sometimes—on treasured, rare instances—trust that had been lost could be found once more.