A/N: Thanks for the encouragement everyone! I apologize for the delay in updating. Believe me that it's not due to lack of effort or muse for this story; getting these characters and dynamics right for where I want to take this story is hard.
Divided We Fall
Ch. 9, Part 2
Kenya, Africa
I couldn't sleep, couldn't focus on work, all I could think about was all the questions that wouldn't stop circulating inside my mind. Deciding I'd had enough of staring at the ceiling, I thought I would take a short walk around to clear my head. Keeping a straight path so not to get myself lost, I headed out into the darkened desert night as I let all those thoughts run wild.
The truth was, the real reason I was having trouble not only sleeping but functioning lately was because I was deeply, and terrifyingly, afraid. And what had me so wrapped up in fear wasn't anything bad but the possibility of something good. Something I'd long thought hopeless and futile until it had crept back in unexpectedly. How did something that started out so innocently turn into this mess of doubt and longing?
In order to survive in this world with the other guy's rage raging in me I had to shut off a lot that made me human. Emotions had never been my strong suit anyway so it wasn't too hard to block them off; to deny myself pleasures and desires.
Now those feelings were suffocating. They were threatening to engulf my chest and choke the very life out of me. I felt like I was being swallowed whole, sucked down into the deep dark pit that I'd buried everything that wasn't the anger I needed to control the monster, and devoured. It was killing me.
My fists clenched and unclenched in rhythm with my breathing as I started to pace back-and-forth like a caged animal. "I can't, I can't...I can't do this. Not here, I need to...C'mon...come on, Banner, calm down. Pull yourself together," I kept telling myself over and over as I clenched my eyes shut and tried to push everything back down.
The longer I stayed, the longer I let myself believe I was safe and had a home, the harder it was to keep control. My guard was slipping, my intentions changing, and my walls were cracking. The worst part was that I knew I needed this. I needed to feel human again. I needed to believe and have hope in something again. And that basic human need to love was beating so hard against my chest it felt like the monster's fists slamming into it.
But just because it was needed didn't mean I wanted it. This wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to not feel anything. If I didn't get attached I couldn't hurt anyone; I wouldn't regret leaving, I wouldn't have to make a choice...I wouldn't have to sacrifice, feel the lose, and die all over again.
"I can't..." I told myself again before I felt the dam break and the black night shifted to a green as I let out my frustration. There wasn't much out there to pound my anger into other than a few rocks, trees, and a lot ground.
My pounding heart finally settled against his chest as I felt his breathing quiver and shake under my palm. It was still hard to think clearly, to speak properly, as I slurred out a rough sounding, "Happy birthday."
And then he laughed. A hearty laugh that caused me to tilt up head up at him to watch. I didn't know what he found so funny but right then I could care less. Hearing him laugh made me smile. It had been a long day for the both of us which ended with a canceled dinner date and a lot of apologizing. Sebastian had salvaged the night by bringing home boxes of desserts to bake and a large carton of ice cream. Five boxes in fact, with five different flavors of icing to try.
Hours later we ended up on seated on the kitchen floor with a tub of ice cream between and only one spoon to share it with. So, all in all, it had been a good night.
"Finally."
"Finally what?" I asked as he stopped laughing.
"It took you all day to tell me that."
I thought back over the day as I tried to remember telling him that before now. "I didn't tell you that this morning?" He shook his head as I swore I'd told him that this morning. "You sure?"
"Bruce, I've been waiting to hear it all day. I haven't until now."
Shaking my head, I kept thinking over the day and he was right. It took me all day to remember to tell him happy birthday. "I could've sworn I told you this morning before I left."
"Maybe you thought about telling me. You were so wrapped up in your head the moment you woke up, I had to remind you to put on pants before you walked out the door in your boxers."
I felt my face heat slightly at the embarrassment but decided it wasn't worth it. It was finals week and along with having to deal with grad students panicking and grading an enormous amount of tests and dissertations, we'd tested the latest version of the formula and experiments. The failure of the experiments had been what made the day horrible. We were no closer to it working and General Ross was getting impatient.
"Stop thinking."
"Can't," I told him as I laid back down on his chest and tried to do as he said. It was a hell of a lot easier said than done.
"Then stop thinking about the project and Ross and school."
"What am I supposed to think about? Baseball?"
"Yes, Bruce, baseball. Hey, we should join a Softball league."
I turned my head to look up at him and said in all seriousness, "Me...play a sport? Have we meet?"
He beamed a huge smile at me, one I could see in the dark it was so big, and said, "I'd pay to see you play a sport. Any sport."
"Is competitive science a sport? I could do that."
He started laughing again and I couldn't help but to follow along. Yeah, right. Me with a bat trying to hit a little round ball being thrown toward my body was a really bad idea. Worse yet, trying to catch the ball.
"You're so afraid all the time. You need to gain some confidence in yourself. I bet you'd be a great softball player. I mean, it is made for girls, Bruce."
"Oh, ow, that hurt," I sarcastically faked being insulted. "I've come to accept the fact that girls are better at a lot of things I'm not good at. However, I will say, I think I'm a hell of a lot better at sexually satisfying a man than they are."
"I think women all over the world will take offense to that."
Moving my hand over his side, I told him, "Don't care," as I kissed his chest. As I peered up at him and saw him watching me, I had to ask, "I do satisfy you, don't I?"
His hand wrapped around the back of my head to move me up and closer to his face. Leaning up, he kissed me. "I wouldn't be with you if you didn't." Resting my forehead on his, he quietly asked, "Promise me that if we were to ever break up that you would hold out hope for love again?"
That had me pushing back so I could look down at him. Why would he even say that? "Are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm serious. I know you and-"
"You must be because we are not having this discussion right now." I felt the sudden spark of anger, even insecurity, settle in my chest as we continued to stare at one another. "Why the fuck would you even say that?"
Sebastian sighed and shut his eyes. "Because it's what I think and worry about."
"Why?!" I had to shut my mouth to keep from raising my voice.
"See, this is why we never talk about things like this. Could you not get upset?"
"Okay," I said a little too dismissively. "I'm not getting upset because we're not having this conversation."
"But we are because I'm talking and these are the words coming out. You hear them, Bruce? Anyone in there," Sebastian said as he started tapping my ear.
I batted his hand away as I tried to see his eyes in the darkness of the room. It was difficult with only the light from the street light spilling in through the window. Not being able to see was frustrating so I stretched out over top of him to flicked on the light of the lamp. Still leaning over top of him, I stared down into his brightly wounded eyes and cursed myself.
Leaning back to rest on my legs, I asked, "This matters to you, doesn't it?"
Sebastian scooted up so he was resting against the headboard. He took my hand in his and gave a nod as he squeezed my hand. "Yes."
I really needed to know why. It didn't make sense that he would care. If we were to ever break up, which right now was too painful to even consider, why would he care if I was happy afterwards. I mean, wouldn't he hate me seeing how it would most likely be my fault? "I don't understand," I honestly told him as I shook my head.
His smile was soft and gentle as he looked up at me with our fingers still intertwined. "If we were to break up tomorrow-If," he said as I went to protest. "Metaphorical question."
"I don't like those."
He chuckled and said, "You're a weird scientist if you don't like those."
"I theorize possibilities. This is not a possibility," I said with a shrug. There it was. I could not even think of us breaking up as a possibility. It hurt too damn much.
"Okay." He lifted my hand up and gave it a kiss before saying, "At least let me talk this out with you." I gave a nod as I held my breath. He continued, "If we were to break up, would you want me to be happy, later on down the road, with someone else?"
My head hurt as my chest ached with that question. I had to really consider that? He was making me consider that? Swallowing hard around the tight lump in my throat, I looked away as I tried to fathom it and think what my future self would do or think or feel. After a long moment of silence, I told him, "I can't."
"You can't what?"
Why? Why? Why? Come on, Banner, pull it together. "I..." Shaking my head I felt the fear of him not being with me, of him being with someone, anyone else, as my body suddenly shook. "You know what you mean to me."
He gave a nod.
"Then don't make me think about you not being here ever again."
Neither one of us spoke as he reached out to touch my chest with his hand as his eyes welled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was just a question."
"One that we're not considering...ever."
Sebastian stared at me as he asked with so much fear in his voice, "Would you...Bruce, if we...would you try to do something or threaten to-"
I got up. I couldn't sit there any longer.
"Bruce, hey, this is serious! I need to know!
I pulled on my boxers and left the room with him calling after me.
My knees hit the ground as I came back to myself with a howling scream as every ounce of guilt and pain hit my chest and wreck my mind. In that moment I'd finally realized what Sebastian had been asking about, what he'd been so worried about, and it was crashing down on top of me as I continued to scream out until my throat cracked.
Rocking back on my legs as I let out a mournful groan, I opened my eyes into the breaking dawn. Sunlight was peaking out over the horizon as I felt the rumble in my chest and roar in my head. Even out there in the vast openness of the desert I wasn't alone. The other guy was always there, a part of me, and he wasn't going away. He was the reason I'd lost everything I'd ever loved and the reason I could never love again.
As I looked out over the low-hanging cliff I sat atop, taking in the orange hues and dark purples of the rising sun and setting shadows, all I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to sleep like I'd never slept before: in peace. I've never had that. Not once. Even as a boy I never slept peacefully; not with hearing my father's footsteps outside my bedroom door, the drunken slurring of his words as he raged, and the pleas of my mother...
I started laughing; a sorrowful laugh that didn't hold a bit of humor. What in the hell was I thinking? I'd never know peace.
50, 000 Feet over the Atlantic
En-route to Africa
He had disembarked from New York enroute to Kenya, Africa early in that morning. Once out over the Atlantic, he had enabled the autopilot on the Quinjet and finally laid down for some much needed rest. It was difficult to sleep as his head was pounding. A familiar ache that kept him awake and worried as he blinked back into the darkness as his mind drifted.
His last mission had him committing espionage against the same group he'd been ordered to infiltrate in the South Pacific. SHIELD had used the information gathered from their mainframe to find additional locations, one of which being in New York, and sent him out to spy on them. Through the weeks of information gathering, he had yet to find out who the group worked for specifically but knew that they were part of the same organization.
It did seem that each group worked independently from each other; the same organization but with different tasks and objectives at each different location. The group in the South Pacific were trying to recreate the Arc Reactor to create an army while the group in New York were doing something with energy and radiation. More specifically, kinetic energy and Gamma radiation.
Clint wasn't sure what it all meant, he wasn't a scientist, but before he could figure it out they had packed up and left. They had disappeared without a trace overnight. At least that was what they thought. He'd been there, in the shadows, and knew exactly where they were headed: Paris.
With Fury still in the dark and off the grid somewhere, Hill had given him permission to follow. Clint only had one request and that was for Banner to come with him. Not only was Bruce the leading scientist on Gamma radiation but from what he saw, if these experiments were a success, the Hulk might be needed. Hill had been reluctant at first until after she had a brief talk with Secretary Pierce.
He was to pickup Banner in Africa and then head North to Paris.
As he sprawled out on the bunk, staring up at the bulkhead, he thought about the last time he'd seen Bruce. It had been weeks ago when Bruce had been preparing for his trip to Africa. He remembered that the man had been excited as a schoolboy while packing for the trip. He'd talked non-stop about all the good he'd be doing now with the added financial support, and benefactor, in Tony Stark.
"I'll be able to treat any type of disease and illness now: Malaria, HIV, Hepatitis...You name it and Stark promised me truck loads of medication to for it. We're also going to be installing solar panels, helping to bring clean water to the villages-"
He sat at the counter nursing a cold beer as he watched Bruce paced from the bedroom, out to the living room, into the kitchen, and then back to the bedroom as he gathered everything he needed, and wanted, for the expedition. When Bruce had first told him that SHIELD agreed to these terms, to allow him to continue his humanitarian work in third world countries, he hadn't been too surprised. Then when he told him that SHIELD was sending a team of doctors with him, that had caught his attention.
Banner wasn't the most sociable guy in the world, add in the fact that he had the Hulk inside him, and it could be a disaster. He trusted Bruce, the Avengers trusted Bruce, and some members of SHIELD trusted Bruce. And even though some were calling Hulk a hero, not everyone saw it that way. The general public had no idea that Hulk was actually a man, so they had the right to not fully give their lives over to the Hulk. However, SHIELD agents knew the truth, knew the Doctor, but still held reservations. It was understandable because he was unpredictable. Yeah, he had control over it for now, but put in a stressful situation, add gunfire or explosions, and all bets were off.
Africa, in general, wasn't a dangerous place; cartels in Africa and bandits and military soldiers were a danger. Bruce was headed right into the heart of that danger. He wasn't scared for Bruce because he knew the man could take care of himself; he was scared of the fact that something could happen and Bruce would Hulk-out and next thing he knew, the man was gone. The Hulk liked to run, evade, and he was afraid that he'd get a call saying that Bruce was off the grid as well.
He didn't want to lose his friend for any amount of time because the Hulk decided to head off to Antarctica or something. Taking a sip of the beer, he barely heard the excited rambling of Bruce until the words stopped.
Looking over at him, Clint saw Bruce staring back with a hint of amusement sparkling in his brown eyes. "You have no idea what I just said, do you?"
Busted, he thought as he grinned and took another sip of the beer. "I'm a little distracted."
Bruce tossed the cell phone SHIELD had given him into the bag, saying, "It's not important. I'm just excited and..." he search around for the right word as his eyes took in the vastly open room. "Nevermind," he opted out as he ducked his head and started for the bedroom.
Clint watched as the man that had been only a moment ago full of with energy and excitement withdraw. Bruce could go from a bursting bundle of life to being as stoic as a robot faster than anyone he'd ever met. He tried not to take it personally and for the most part he didn't. This time, however, the guilt settled in the pit of his stomach because he was sure that his inattentiveness had caused Bruce to throw the wall up and revert back into himself.
The moment Bruce returned, he told him, "You didn't have to stop talking about-"
"I was rambling; it's okay. I would've tuned me out too."
As Bruce knelt down to rearrange everything in his bag to make it all fit, Clint idly watched. There was a lot going through his head as he took in Doctor Bruce Banner, who was dressed in a pair of khakis, a light blue button-down shirt under a gray tweed jacket with his glasses sliding halfway down his nose. He looked every bit the mild-mannered scientist he appeared to be. It was still hard to imagine that under it all, under that vulnerably weak persona, was a man capable of such anger that it caused him to change into the Hulk.
And, he had kissed that man. The memory of that night was a hazy blur in his head but he remembered. He wasn't sure if Bruce knew that or not, neither of them had brought it up since. After that night, Bruce had lead him up and out of the river valley by taking the trails so not having to agitate his cracked ribs. That had been the official diagnosis from the SHIELD physician; nothing broken, no internal bleeding, only a few cracks. He'd had worse.
What he's never had before was a lasting friendship with anyone. He didn't make friends easily, and because of his previous career choice, friendships, true friendships, were few and far between. He hadn't allowed himself to trust anyone. Betrayal was his life story; from his parents to his brother, and to the people he'd worked with and his mentor. They had all betrayed him in the end, leaving him wondering if there was any reason at all to get close to anyone.
With being an assassin he didn't have to worry about it. Those he came across, pretended to get close to, were all marks, targets, or pawns to get him to his target. Now, as a spy, it was basically the same but now he had teammates. People who relied on him and who he had to rely on. Building trust was the hardest part.
Except when it came to the man he was watching pack. From the moment he'd met him, he knew there was something different about the scientist. There was a familiarity with him, an easiness he hadn't felt with too many people in his life. A comradery of sorts that went beyond simple friendship. It wasn't until he joined SHIELD that he was able to look into Bruce's background to understand why. Bruce knew betrayal; he knew how hard it was to entrust himself to anyone, and he was just as much of an outsider in all this as he was.
Neither of them belonged and they both were highly aware of that fact. Despite the fact that the Hulk had saved millions of lives, acted as part of the group of Avengers, Bruce didn't have any memory of it. His only contribution was showing up to let the Hulk fight along with them. It was no wonder Bruce never took him up on his offers to hangout with the him and Tasha, or Cap Rogers. Where he could share war stories, Bruce had nothing. He found the gamma signature of the cube and then helped to destroy the Helicarrier only to show back up on a bike.
Sure, the man could control the Hulk during those times when he was in complete control of the transformation, but other times...he was as deadly as a nuclear weapon; total destruction of anything and anyone. Friend or foe.
And, again, he had kissed him. God, what was he thinking. He knew what he was thinking: that despite who Bruce Banner turned into, it was the man he was that Clint couldn't help but want to be around. He was utterly attracted to the guy and the friendship they had was the most genuine one he's had in years; not since he was a kid, before all the lies and betrayal, had he enjoyed a friendship as much as he had with Bruce Banner.
It could have been that the kiss had been his mind wanting to say 'Thank You'. He had so much to thank Bruce for; and the other man didn't even know it. That was how he ended up opening his mouth to tell him, "I don't regret it."
Bruce froze as he continued to stare down into his bag, like he was trying to figure out what that meant from the clothes he'd folded. Turning to look up at him, he pushed his glasses up on his face as he said, "What?"
He smiled a little at that use of word. Clint had come to realize that when Bruce was completely confused or perplexed with nothing else to say, that was his go-to word. He, Clint Barton, had stumped one of the most brilliant minds in the world. "The um...when I kissed you. I don't regret it."
There was a twitch in his jaw right before he gave a tensely tight smile. Bruce was usually a hard man for him to read. So much went on behind those dark eyes that it wasn't easy to tell what his ticks meant. However, that twitch was a dead give-away.
Clint knew he wasn't too happy about it. "Did you think I didn't remember?"
Bruce went back to looking over his bag before he sighed, pulled the zipper shut, and stood. "Hoping, more like it," he said it as swiftly as he took off his glasses. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before he turned while putting his glasses into his pocket.
"It was a thank you." Clint rushed out to stop him from disappearing again into his room with fear he wouldn't come back out until the Quinjet landed.
He stopped but didn't turn around as he crossed his arms over his chest. His head dropped as he shook it. Looking back over his shoulder, Bruce said in confusion, "A thank you?"
"Yeah," he told him with a shrug. "I could've said it, I guess, but, like I told you, I'm impulsive. That kiss was a thank you, Bruce. Because of you, I got the chance to join SHIELD and get out of the situation I was in. I got to be an Avenger and kick some alien ass." He watched him for a long moment. "The best part though was getting to be your friend. I haven't had a real friend in a long time. So, thank you for that." Bruce barely moved, barely even breathed as he gave a slight nod. "Does that mean we're good? I didn't ruin our friendship-"
"We're good."
"Promise?"
He smiled, a real smile this time. He could tell because Bruce's eyes lit up. "Promise," he told him before he went to his room.
Clint had been right; Bruce didn't reappear again until it was time to go.
Before long, he landed the Quinjet near the village. Two SHIELD agents were waiting for him as he walked out of the cargo bay and into the bright desert sun and dry air. It looked like the team was packing up to head out, all except for one desert cameo compound that was still standing off on it's own away from the village and others. Extending a hand out to the agent that stepped over to him, they shook hands. "Agent Barton."
"Agent Wilson, and Agent Cooper," Wilson told him as he introduced himself and the other man standing there. Cooper regarded him passively, keeping his dark sunglasses. Wilson had taken his off and tucked them inside his breast pocket on his shirt. "Can we talk for a moment, Agent Barton?"
Clint felt his back stiffen at the request. He looked to Agent Cooper who suddenly turned and started to walk away, toward one of the jeeps in the convoy. Every Agent held the same eager expression to get the hell out of dodge as soon as possible. He had no idea if they had orders to continue with the missionary work or to get back to the states and to their respective assignments. He turned back to Wilson, whom he knew to be a doctor, and asked, "What's this about?"
"It's about Doctor Banner." Wilson immediately held up his hands to calm him as he spotted the still intact compound and started for it. "Whoa, hey, he's okay. I just want to tell you about yesterday."
He tried to control his breathing as he held up to listen to what Wilson had to tell him. All he could imagine was that Bruce turned into the Hulk and...ravaged. The village was still in one piece and there was no angry mob after them, so maybe it wasn't anything bad. "Alright, tell me."
Wilson let out a breath and dropped his hands as he looked to the ground. Whatever it was he was about to say wasn't easy. "We were attacked by some mercenaries. Bruce saved a lot of innocent lives but, he also took a few. One impractiular was a young boy, one of the kid soldiers who was firing an AK at us. You know Bruce though..."
"Yeah," Clint said as he started to understand the situation. "He doesn't want to hurt anyone, not even the bad ones. I know how he feels. Kid soldiers are forced in it and they usually have no other choice. How old?"
Wilson shrugged, "Does it matter? We tried to save him. Bruce isn't a surgeon; I am and even I couldn't..." he trailed off and shook his head. "Anyway, I thought everything was fine when I left him last night. We had a drink, talked, and I went to bed. This morning when I went into there to tell him about the call from Director-in-Charge Hill...he wasn't there."
Staring up at Wilson in shock, he said in disbelief, "He's missing!"
"One of the locals said they saw him leave late last night. Thought he was just going for a walk. He went to sleep and didn't think much of it until we found him gone."
"Shit." Clint started for the compound and this time Wilson didn't try to stop him. "Have you tried tracking his phone?"
"He didn't take it."
"What would have made him leave? How'd the locals react to the Hulk?"
Wilson gestured past his shoulder and said, "See for yourself."
Clint looked back over his shoulder and stopped walking. Painted on the wall of a building was a mural to the Hulk.
"I thought Bruce would like it."
"He didn't?"
Wilson shook his head. "I don't think he likes to see that reflection of himself."
That was an interesting way of putting it. One that Clint hadn't thought of before. There had been times, and some recently, where he didn't like his own reflection. The man he was versus the things he'd done, has done, and have to do, were sometimes at odds with one another. Looking into the mirror after the Loki incident had been hard to do. He still had moments where he swore he'd seen a blue glow right before he snapped himself out of it.
He could picture Bruce staring at the mural of the Hulk after he'd caused the death of a young boy and hating it; hating himself. "Have you sent anyone out to track him?"
"I was going to but..." Wilson sighed as he pointed to the packed jeeps and trucks. "No one's really eager to go out into the African desert to search for the Hulk."
"What you're really saying is that your men are scared."
Wilson turned back to Clint and shrugged. "Can you blame them? Besides, Bruce can take care of himself, Agent Barton."
He let out another sigh, "Yeah...I know." This was going to be a long morning. Canvassing the vast desert that laid out behind the compound that once housed the Doc, Clint worked his jaw as he said, "If your men are ready, take this down and secure all of Bruce's belongings on the quinjet then roll out."
Wilson looked at the structure and gave a nod. "You're walking out there?"
"I doubt he went far," he told him as he started walking, following the faint footprints in the sand.
"Good luck," Wilson called out.
Clint didn't take his eyes off the horizon as he quickly faded into the distance. Over the sand, prairie grass, and past Acacia trees, he searched for any signs of Bruce. Off to the left he spotted a few wildlife including a line of Zebras heading South. Despite the beauty that was all around him, he was annoyed. He was on a mission and having to hunt down his teammate out in the middle of nowhere took time away from that mission. "Come on, Bruce," he shouted into the distance. "I didn't come out here to go on Safari!"
When only a light breeze was his response, he started to really worry. What if Bruce wasn't out here somewhere? What if he was taken? Clint quickly shook his head of those thoughts as he kept walking. The last person on earth that could be easily taken was Bruce Banner. It was when he neared what appeared to be a low rising cliff in the distance that he saw signs of life, but it wasn't of a mere human scientist. It was of a big green Hulk. The footprints turned into huge indents right before him. Rocks were broken, a few trees were splintered into kindling.
He stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked down. About ten feet down was a body of water; it was a water hole that wasn't too deep. There was still no sign of Bruce anywhere and he thought maybe he'd missed him and Bruce was back at the village. Or, maybe the Hulk had carried him off to the Mountain that was in the distance. There were so many possibilities and not one he liked. He really didn't have time for this.
Right when he thought it best to go back to the quinjet and do a flyover, he heard a noise behind him. The moment he turned he was rammed in the side and pushed off the cliff, his lungs caught as his heart plummeted to his stomach as a pair of arms wrapped around his body as he let out a panicked scream before hitting the water. The arms finally released him as he struggled toward the surface.
Breaking through the water, he gasped and coughed out the water he'd nearly swallowed as he heard a familiar laughter next to him. Clint fought the urge to panic, as well as his urge to kill, as he looked over at Bruce who was treading water and laughing at him.
"Son-of-a-bitch," Clint gritted out as he splashed water over at smug asshole.
Bruce didn't stop laughing as he started to swim to the shore. "I taught you well, young Jedi. Congratulations, Agent Barton, you can swim."
"Fuck you," he shot back as he started to make his way to solid ground. Pulling himself out of the water and collapsing on the ground, he sucked in a deep breath as he stared up at the sky. "I hate you."
More laughter, this time more softly, hit his ears as he looked over to see Bruce sitting next to him. He was eyeing him with a slight grin on his face. Water was running down his face from his head to the scruff on his face; he was bare chested and his pants were in one piece...which was odd after a transformation.
"What're you doing here?" he finally asked after a moment of just staring at one another.
"Mission," he told him as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
Bruce gave a slight nod as he looked away. "You need the Hulk?"
"I need you."
His head jerked over at that. Wrinkling his brow in confusion, he asked, "Me? I'm not an OPS agent."
"I know that. I need you. It's a long story, alright. I can brief you once we're in the air." Clint was hoping this wouldn't turn in a fight. He couldn't exactly order Bruce to do anything but he could reason with him.
Bruce didn't give him an answer as he wrapped his arms around his knees kept his eyes on the ground.
Shifting closer to him, he asked in a whisper, "Bruce, I'm your friend. You can talk to me. What's going on? Why'd you come out here?"
He still refused to look at him as he shifted his eyes off the sandy ground and out over the water. With a heavy sigh, he said, "I needed to think."
"About?"
Bruce shrugged a little as he eyed the horizon. "A lot of things. One being I'm not a doctor."
"Then why'd we call you Doctor Banner?"
A small twitch of a smirk appeared on his lips before he clarified, "I'm not an M.D. smartass."
"Oh," Clint said with a smile. "Knew that. So?"
"So...So, what the hell am I doing out here if I'm not a doctor?" he spoke mostly to himself than to him. "I have no idea what I'm actually supposed to be doing now. None of this is what I want. And...I don't..." Dropping his head, he ran his hands over his short chopped hair as he softly said, "Fuck, Banner, what're you even trying to say..." He stopped talking as he pressed his hands into his eyes and leaned against his legs. "I started doing this because I needed...to do something that had meaning. Being a doctor had helped, it'd worked and I was so good at it, Clint. Now, it's not the same. I'm not the same."
Clint could only swallow hard as he looked away. He knew those thoughts all too well. The uncertainty and fear of not truly knowing who he was, what he was doing, and all his capabilities. He'd been adrift, alone, and lost in a world of betrayal and mistrust that made it capable for him to be an assassin. He was doing better now but only because he was learning to trust that he could put his life in the hands of others. And all that started with the man sitting next to him who was questioning, and doubting, himself.
Turning to look at Bruce, he told him, "I have headaches."
Bruce let out a deep breath as he looked over at him. "Sorry, but I don't have anything to give you."
Clint shook his head in frustration and told him, "I'm not asking for you to give me anything. I'm telling you that I have headaches. They started before we met, actually it was the last mission I did right before yours. At first I could ignore them and they would go away. One night, it didn't go away. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat...I thought I was going crazy. Then, I take the job to find you and it was like my head was going to cave in. As long as I could focus on the job I was fine but at night it was hell. That's why I never slept, I couldn't. But, the weirdest part was when I started questioning my mission, they started to go away. The moment I knew that I was going to let you go, it was like everything that was killing me disappeared. I'd been torturing myself. I wasn't happy and I didn't want to continue doing what I was doing and it was time to move on."
He continued to stare at him before saying, "You said you have headaches."
Giving a nod as he looked away from Bruce, he said, "The other night I couldn't sleep because my head was killing me. I went to get a glass of water from the bathroom tap..." Clint hadn't mentioned this to anyone, not even the SHIELD doctors. "Looking into the mirror I swore I saw my eyes glow blue. It lasted a second but it was enough to freak me out. I broke the mirror." He flexed his hand at the memory of slamming his fist into it. "They started again after New York and haven't stopped. I don't know if it's lingering effects from what Loki did to me or if it's my own mind torturing me because something ain't setting right with me. I don't know, but either way, I can't sleep."
Looking over at Bruce, he didn't see pity and he didn't see sympathy or compassion. What he saw was understanding and gratitude for also being understood.
"You have two choices," Clint said after a long moment when silence settled between them. "Go back to New York and play puppet to the Secretary, or, go with me to Paris on a mission."
Bruce huffed out a laugh as he shook his head in disbelief. "Actually, I only have one choice, and that's to say "Yes, Clint, let's go to Paris"."
Clint smiled as Bruce looked over at him with a sly smile on his face. "Thought so."
TBC...