Author's Note: Hmmm... My Guestreviewer asked a question that actually had me debating something for a little while. Do I stay canon up to the AoU movie, or will I actually give the two a semi-relationship to take place before it? So, I figure we have two options:

Option A – I can stay canon to the movie, where they aren't really romantic or involved until the Ultron.
Option B – I can stray slightly from canon and give them more than a lightly intimate build-up to what's to come.

The readers may choose, though, originally this was intended for Option A, I have no problems doing Option B either. I'm also plotting a Post-AoU sequel to this. Also remember, you'll actually have to PM or review this one for your vote to actually count because unfortunately, I recently broke my mind-reading cap. :P

Chapter 5:

Bruce had spent several hours not just recovering from his transformation into The Hulk, but also replaying the snippets of his memories that he actually could pull out and remember. It wasn't always easy. Sometimes the memories just came in flashes, as though they were images from a projector, and other times the memories never came at all. Still, the Big Guy had been calm enough, actually bringing the memories a little further to life, even if the calm had only lasted briefly.

It was the dismal facial expression of a certain redheaded assassin that stuck so thoroughly in the forefront of his mind when she whispered the words, 'You want him to stop acting like a monster? Then maybe you should stop treating him like one.' There had been plenty of words from her after that, but given they were the first ones to catch the Big Guy's attention, they were the ones Bruce himself remembered most.

He rubbed his eyes, heading toward the lounge he had originally walked into that afternoon when he found her talking to Steve. Though he supposed it was more like Steve talked to her. The first time he had walked in, he thought he was interrupting some grand romantic moment between the two of them, seeing Natasha hold the good Captain's chin so delicately in her hand. It wasn't until he saw the reversed position, where Steve was then doing the same to her, that he realized it was nothing of the sort. They were two friends trying to coax away the demons of the other. Unfortunately, only Natasha seemed to have succeeded, seemingly as unwilling as himself to let anyone get that far passed her walls. Her walls that, as she had told him so briefly, used to scream when she was a child.

Bruce hadn't thought much of that tiny tidbit of information she had given him before she left Bihar. Not until he watched Steve try and fail to get even that much from her. He hadn't given much stock to that one minuscule statement about her past and the screaming walls, not until the moment she denied Steve anything of the sort. He actually hadn't thought of it at all until he saw her curled up in the lounge, staring at the walls again.

Natasha's face was its usual expression of neutrality, revealing nothing of whatever was going on inside her mind. He was hesitating to make his way towards her, honestly afraid that she might flip him to the floor again for coming near her. Instead her voice rang out in his ears, "I know you're there, my spider-senses are tingling."

But her voice fell flat with it's attempt at levity. It might have still been funny if he weren't so angry with not just her, but with Tony as well. Her for being so reckless and Tony for joining in on her suicidal plan without more than one word of disagreement. Truth was, he expected it from his billionaire best friend, which made it much harder to have the disagreement with him. He made his way around to the couches and took a seat on the one across from her. Looking at her from a front angle said she was a lot less composed then she was trying to lead him to believe. The teal of her eyes just didn't stand as bright anymore, looking faded the more the days passed by. He had come here to talk about what had happened with her and with the Hulk. Instead he was slowly losing that anger when he realized she was searching her 'safety net' for the security that only the walls ever seemed to have given her.

"Something you want to say, Banner?" her chilly voice broke through the parts of him that had sunk into understanding for that small moment and now he found himself frustrated with her all over again.

It was ironic really, because the Big Guy wasn't fussing in the back of his head, he was contentedly staying quiet and leaving Bruce to deal with the redhead on his own. "I could go—but I thought two weeks ago I had an invitation to talk. Unless that changed..." he hadn't meant for his voice to come out as wary as it did.

For a few seconds her face remained impassive until her eyes finally trailed from the wall and onto his face. He couldn't decide if she simply didn't recall the offer or if she didn't really care at the moment. He honestly wasn't sure which one bothered him more. Her face never changed, her eyes still looked vacant and empty and he realized it was the same face she had worn after he had interrupted her nightmare that first night staying with him. In fact, this seemed even worse then that night. When she had broken from her stupor that night, she had been quiet and her face had become that usual blank slate, but this one was different. This vacant expression was hollow and lost and fundamentally disturbing on an entirely new level. This face made him realize that whatever dream she had this time had been horrifyingly worse to the point where she seemed almost lost.

"I can listen if you want," her voice held the smallest hint of recognition to her former offer, but the offer she gave now seemed almost forced.

He lost the will to be angry with her in that moment, the moment where she was willing to let her own issues go to make way for his, "I uh—I hope you don't take this the wrong way? But—you look like you need to talk more then I do..." Those pale teal eyes didn't do their usual abundance of blinking. Natasha's head never angled just slightly to the side; not this time. Instead she just continued to stare at him like she was waiting. "But I guess you're not going to do that."

"You'd be guessing right, Doctor." Bruce sighed and ran his fingertips through his hair, but then she spoke the next words that got the fire burning in him once again, "I take it you're not thrilled with my earlier adventure." He had a feeling she did that on purpose.

Her calling it an adventure just fueled the flames and he was really glad to have sat down at a distance from her. He might have actually wanted to strangle her for a second, which likely would have led to her stabbing him, then he would turn green. It would all be a giant disaster. "That's an understatement, Natasha," he warned her. The fire was fueled further when she shrugged as though it didn't matter, "I expect stupidity on that level from Tony, but not from you, you're too smart for that."

There it was. Natasha's signature quirk of the eyebrow as she let his words sink in, "Did you just, in the nicest way possible, call me stupid?"

"I'm saying what you did was stupid," he groaned out in disbelief. "You have the least amount of self-preservation of any single person I know. You act like you're trying to live, trying to run from whatever might hurt you. You say you're trying to survive and yet you throw yourself headfirst into things that will, undoubtedly, get you killed one day."

She still wasn't reacting. She was just sitting, legs folded like a pretzel beneath her as as she studied him with a hollow stare and waited for him to continue.

"How can you not see a problem with what you did back there?" he dared to asked. "How can you not see that—" he had to stop and rub furiously at his temples. The ache of a migraine was forcing it's way through and for just a second her saw her eyes flicker with concern before it faded back to nothing. Suddenly he wasn't even sure it was ever there to begin with. "You said back in Bahir that the reason you were going after those men, stopping them from returning, was because you didn't want to see what happened to me in the aftermath if the—the Other Guy, came out," he mentioned.

Natasha still had no visible reaction. It was apparent she really didn't understand where he was going with this and it only served to frustrate him further. "I thought we already talked about that," she finally stated, still no emotion in it along with her lack of facial expression.

Bruce had to assume he actually looked angry this time because suddenly she did react, her head angled just slightly to the left, her eyes looked a little wary and she stiffened. All of it was almost imperceptible, but given the nothingness she had going on before, he saw it all happen. She didn't seem to understand what she did to anger him, but she did become aware that she had done so. "We did talk about that. Now I'm talking about this."

"I'm failing to see the connection."

"You thought that my comment about eating a bullet after the incident with Harlem was bad?" he questioned, and he gave her some credit when she actually grimaced at that one. "How do you think I would have felt if he had killed you earlier?" he actually heard his voice crack a little at that one.

Realization dawned on her features almost immediately as her lips parted; his name so soft and hesitant from her lips, "Bruce..." He watched her stand and move over to the couch he was seated on, curling herself onto the corner of it with her arms folded around her knees, "I didn't—I never meant for that. I didn't think—"

"No. No, you didn't think at all," the words rolled out in pained frustration and he was on his feet, pacing the small area in front of her. "Harlem was devastating. It haunts me every day and I still—I still get haunted when I see your face on the Helicarrier!" He didn't dare look at her. He could see in his peripheral that her eyes were a little wider with his revelation and now he gave her another, "And now you've added to another nightmare I'll never be able to stop seeing."

Surprised didn't even begin to explain his reaction when her fingers loosely coiled around his wrist to stop his pacing. He stiffed at her touch, flinching slightly and she pulled her hand back as though he had burned her. Still, she had effectively stopped him in his tracks. "I—I'm sorry..." the words seemed so foreign from her, especially when he actually believed she meant the words. It wasn't like the empty apology she had given him the first time she went and stripped her clothes off in front of him. This one sounded like it almost hurt her to say it.

"You're making it incredibly hard to be angry..." he informed her with a sigh. When he finally dared to look over at her again, she was back to her former position and the mask was on again. "And then you do that..." he mumbled, dragging himself back onto the opposite side of the couch. He sank into the back of it and looked over at her as he tried to figure out what exactly had her so much more closed off then usual, "Are you—okay? Was it—was it the Other Guy?" he managed to get out. Realization dawned on his features and he closed the gap between them on the couch, leaving hardly any room, "You're not hurt, right? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," came her quick reply.

He breathed a little easier with that. Still, there was something haunted in her empty gaze and it was mind-numbing to see it. Especially when she was trying to sink further into the couch. Further away from him. He inched away a little to give her the space she seemed to be looking for, "I guess the walls aren't working for you today?" It didn't really seem to get her attention the way he hoped it would, instead she just appeared to fall further into the depths of her own mind than she had been before, "Natasha?"

'Sometimes the walls screamed...'

That statement still rolled through his mind like some twisted little horror movie. From the way she continued to retreat further into herself he could only assume that the walls weren't screaming for her, not tonight. He glanced up at the clock, seeing now it was just after three in the morning. She needed the walls to scream, he knew that, it made her feel safer. It made her think she was alright, even just for a little while, she had told him at least that much. But it was all he knew about her. Stories got passed around like candy about her, though he couldn't fathom that some of them were true. Some said she was actually a machine, programmed for nothing but subterfuge and murder. Some say she's actually an alien from another planet. One thing usually rings through each ridiculous story though, one she had confirmed when she originally 'requested' his assistance in Calcutta. She had been trained to be who she was since she was a child.

Bruce could really only think of one thing that used to help him through childhood. Help him through the horrors of his own life. It seemed like a decent idea to see if it might help her as well. "Let me show you something." She was looking to the wall again, "Natasha?" He stood up and waited hesitantly, "I think it'll take your mind off—off whatever is bothering you." It seemed to get her attention, because her teal eyes slowly inched off the wall to look at him before she disentangled herself from the strange position on the couch and stood as well. He headed out of the lounge, trying his best not to keep peering over his shoulder to check and see if she was following. She did, however, have the quietest footsteps of any person he had ever met.

Even the quick trip on the elevator was quiet and she was fidgeting in the back corner of it, eyes glancing up at the ceiling. For half a second, he believed she might actually escape through the emergency hatch on the top before they ever made it to their floor. It was an entertaining thought and he must have showed it somehow, either chuckled or smiled, because she was giving him the strangest look.

"What's so funny?"

He had definitely given himself away. He let out a sigh, which came out more as a chuckle again before he dared to explain it, "Every time you look up—I sort of get this little image running through my head of you spy-busting your way out the emergency hatch up there." For a full thirty seconds he thought he might have actually offended her, but then her lips just sort of curled upward slightly into the barest of smiles.

Then Natasha inclined her head just a little, a slight look of impishness crossing her previously void face, "I only climb out of moving elevators for more dire circumstances." He shook his head with a small smile. "I'd hardly consider you as a dire circumstance."

He glanced back at her, a little dumbfounded by the statement, "Oh yeah—because my anger problems don't lead to dire circumstances."

She didn't seem to enjoy his sarcasm because she knitted her eyebrows together and gave him a look that said she was more than a little unhappy with him. "You don't give yourself enough credit," she finally stated, turning her face to the doors of the elevator as they opened. He could feel her presence remaining behind him as she followed him, "He's a part of you, Bruce. I told you, there's no way that anger like his comes from nowhere. He's that angry because you're angry. He's you—a bigger, greener, angrier you."

"He's not me."

"Bruce-"

"He's not me!"

To his relief, Natasha didn't flinch or back away when his voice took on a familiar snarl. The Hulk didn't seem to appreciate the comparison either. Now her face was once again expressionless, and for once, that actually served to calm him back down. Unfortunately, both of them recognized that someone else was currently on their floor as well and they turned their heads at once, seeing Pepper standing there. The anger that flooded through him faded just slightly at the sight of her and he gave her an apologetic look as she glanced between the two of them.

Unfortunately, Natasha also seemed to have thought twice now about his plans to take her mind off the problems currently wreaking havoc in her head. Her words came out as empty as her face now looked, "Guess I should have gone with the grand elevator escape."

He rubbed his eyes, trying to ebb away the pain of his headache as she turned and went to her own room.

It worked a little, even as Pepper's voice pulled through his ears, "You two really need to work on your conversational skills. They lack a certain...finesse." Bruce thought that was a rather mild way of putting it, but he didn't bother to mention that. "Look... I don't mean to pry. But Jarvis alerted me earlier that Natasha—" she paused now, like she might be giving away some great secret. "Jarvis just said something wasn't right when she woke up."

He imagined it was more nightmares. Just like the ones he would hear her have in India, "Take it from someone with experience, Pepper... don't try to check on her after that."

"It's just-" Pepper seemed to hesitate again before finishing, "Tony told me what she did in the lab and I know you're probably not happy with it." He felt her hand give a firm and comforting squeeze on his shoulder, "But if Steve's kicked puppy face when he left here this afternoon was any indication—maybe you should consider just leaving well enough alone."

"You mean leave Natasha alone."

Pepper shrugged. "Or take a page out of her book," came the bold suggestion. He had absolutely no idea what that meant. "Consider her—hmm..." she put her pointer finger to her lip in thought. "Okay, I never said this, but consider her like Tony. When he was dying he didn't even tell anyone. SHIELD had to send in Natasha undercover in Stark Industries just so they could help him. Well, help him to help himself. She seems a lot like that. You're not going to convince that woman to just take help if you offer it. You need to sneak it in, without her noticing."

"You want to—and let me make sure I'm hearing this right..." he started, huffing out another sigh, "You want to do stealth help on an ex-Russian spy?"

She chuckled at that, "Stealth help? Really, Bruce?"

He could only give her a sheepish smile at that, "She did take Tony's help. Twice now."

Once again, Pepper shrugged with a bit of indifference, "Yeah well, that was accepting a plane ride to get her off the grid. And taking a free room in the tower her team is based out of. Talking about problems and feelings? That's something nobody on this team seems to understand how to do. Except maybe Steve, and sometimes even that's questionable." He supposed that was true enough and he chuckled a little when she gave him a knowing smile, "Anyway. I'll go back to bed now—good luck with Operation: Stealth Help."

"You're not going to get over that, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

Bruce didn't see her again until three nights later. He was sitting in what Tony dubbed the 'theater room' and watching a movie when he felt her presence behind him. Somehow when Natasha entered a room it was like the entire air inside it changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on why that was, of course, maybe it was just the tension that always seemed to build up when they were near each other. He finally dared to turn around and look at her, watching her eyes as they remained planted on the giant television screen, "You could just sit down and watch the movie, instead of lurking in the doorway."

Her eyes flickered from the screen to him and he watched as she seemed to mull the idea over in her head before she spoke, "Would it bother you if I did?"

It wasn't what he expected her to say and he frowned, "Is that why I haven't seen you for the last few days?" That imperceptible shrug fell off her shoulders and his eyes softened a little, "It won't bother me if you sit and watch a movie." Her face was unresponsive and she still didn't leave the doorway, in fact, he had the niggling feeling that she might turn and leave, "Natasha—please just sit down and watch the movie."

Bruce almost laughed as she slowly moved into the room and proceeded to plant herself onto the couch. Natasha left as much space between them both as she physically could and they sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence as the movie played. When he dared to glance over he saw the most ridiculously perplexed expression on her face and a few times her lips parted like she wanted to speak before suddenly snapping shut. It was a few seconds later when the words finally escaped her, "What the hell are we watching?"

He couldn't hide the grin when he looked over at her, "Sunset Boulevard, it's a classic, how can you not know?"

"I don't really watch TV."

"Nothing?"

"Only when Clint makes me," she insisted with a shrug, "And his tastes vary toward the Disney variety."

He actually laughed when she said it and shook his head. "Barton watches Disney movies?"

Natasha glanced over at him and he knew he was still grinning, "I think I've been forced to watch Frozen about a dozen times. I'm trained to endure nearly every form of torture imaginable. Nobody trained me for Elsa and Anna."

"He—he..." Bruce was working his hardest not to laugh. "Barton watches Frozen?"

"Mmhmm," she answered with a nod. "Admittedly, I do like Olaf, but that never leaves this room."

He couldn't help himself. He actually laughed now just at the image of Clint forcing the redhead to watch Frozen.

"It's not funny," Natasha insisted and he smirked when she gave him a death glare. A moment later though, she smiled back at him. "Alright. It's a little funny."

"A little?"

"Bruce, shut up."

He laughed again and shook his head, "Alright—okay... I'll uh—I'll let it go."

For just a moment the corners of her lips were twitching and he could actually see her trying to hold back the grin. It didn't work, because when she actually glanced over at him, there was a slanted smile gracing him with it's presence, "Don't go supernerd on me, Bruce. I already have Clint in that position and I'm not sure there's room for two in my life."

"Alright, alright," he agreed, effectively managing to snuff his laughter. "So—Sunset Boulevard. It's from 1950, basically it's about a former actress," he pointed to Gloria Swanson on the screen, "Norma, who used to do silent movies and refuses to accept that now she's uh—uh..."

"A has-been?"

He chuckled, "That about sums it up."

Her eyebrows watched up, "So who are these two men living with her?"

"That's the guy she hired to be the editor of a script she wrote," he explained, pointing the man out. "She puts him up in the mansion. And that's Max. He's uh—her butler, sort of."

Natasha's eyes studied the film for a while longer in silence, the same perplexed expression never quite going away. He couldn't resist peering over at her occasionally and seeing how that same confused expression never actually left. It was an unusually amicable silence between them and she never said a word until half-way through the end credits, "Shit... that's messed up."

Now he laughed.

"I mean... aren't movies supposed to be all 'happily ever after' and crap? Not that I'm complaining, I'm definitely okay with this whole dark and twisty ending thing."

"So you liked it?"

"Mmm..." she gave a small inclination of her head in affirmation. "I mean. He sort of deserved it," she mentioned and he couldn't help but chuckle. "He was a bit of a dick. Of course, she was bat-shit crazy, but still..." He watched as those teal eyes settled him with a quizzical and amused look, "You never struck me as the type to watch movies."

He waved that off, "Only the classics." He had looked away for a minute and gotten up to put the movie away. When he turned back around, she was quietly watching him, "You really never watch movies?" Natasha merely shrugged at the question and he could only assume that was a no. "What about when you were younger?"

Her brows knitted slightly, "No." Her head tilted just slightly to the side as a puzzled look crossed her face again, "Actually. That's not technically true." Technically? "I remember that stupid part of Snow White," she admitted, her face going from puzzled to indifferent once more. "You know—that part where the dwarfs find her and she says 'If you let me stay, I'll wash and sew and sweep and cook'? But that's about it."

It was the strangest thing to remember, especially with all the different parts of that movie.

"I think it was in a classroom."

"A classroom?"

Natasha just nodded. "Yeah, playing on one of those weird old projectors. I just remember that because all the other girls were repeating the line as it was being said," her voice came out more curious than anything and she seemed to be thinking about it for a few more minutes before her face changed to something akin to recognition. "Oh..."

"What is it?"

She just shrugged, "Probably nothing. I just—some of my memories as a child are hazy when I try to look back." That didn't exactly sound like nothing to him. "Just, it seems a little ritualistic and brainwashy to me. I think it's how we learned to use American accents. Learned to make ourselves seem more helpless, like girls were supposed to be. You know—fragile, not...murderers."

"Why is it hazy?" He let the comment about murderers go.

Bruce watched as those teal eyes shifted toward him once more and he was waiting for her to simply stop talking. Instead she surprised him, "I've been trying to fight through fabricated memories since I left the KGB," she admitted, her voice making it sound like it meant nothing. "Sometimes I'm still not sure what's real and what they made me believe," she explained. "I remember a fire and a KGB soldier pulling me out of my home as it burned. " She shrugged, shaking her head. "I remember the sound of..." now she paused and the look on her face seemed hopelessly disturbed. "I remember my mother's screams, and that he just left her in there to burn. But I can't remember her face..."

"Natasha..."

She tensed up and stood immediately. It seemed like she just realized what she had done, what she had revealed. Then she merely turned on her heel and walked right out of the room. Stealth help may have succeeded on one level, but he didn't imagine she was going to talk to him again for a while, until she reappeared five minutes later with a bottle of vodka and dropped down onto the couch again.

"Are you—"

"Can we just—not?" came the request as she took a swig straight from the bottle.

Bruce knew better then to push it. Instead he simply nodded and pulled out another movie, "It's uh—it's Casablanca."

"Another classic?"

"Mhhmm."

"Okay."

When Bruce didn't see her again for a week after that movie night, he started to question it. It wasn't that he didn't think she would avoid him, in fact, he knew she was probably doing just that. Even so, a week without even a single run-in, not even in passing, was throwing him off. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Doctor Banner?"

"Is Natasha still in the tower?" he questioned the AI.

There was a moment of silence, as though Jarvis was considering whether or not to tell him the answer. Finally the AI gave in, "Miss Romanoff has not been in the tower for the last two days, Doctor Banner."

"So... she left."

"On the contrary, sir. Miss Romanoff is doing a favor for Mr. Stark. He recently came into some intelligence on a HYDRA compound in Samara, Russia. Miss Romanoff volunteered herself to infiltrate the compound and see what information she could find on the location of Loki's scepter or any other HYDRA compound locations."

That left him with an unsettling feeling in his gut, "Alone?"

"Yes, sir."

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and sat down at the desk in the lab, "Is there a way to know how she's doing?"

"Of course. The new suit that Mr. Stark made for her not only tracks her location and her vital signs, it also includes video feed from the Avengers patch on her chest."

"Can you bring that up for me, Jarvis?"

"Right away."

He watched as the screen appeared before him, one of Tony's favorite inventions. He leaned back in the seat, watching as the feed came online but there wasn't anything actually happening. All he saw was darkness and occasionally Natasha's hands like she was crawling. "Does she have comms?"

"No, sir. Though we can hear her, Miss Romanoff cannot hear us."

Bruce hadn't realized there was any sound. Natasha was moving silently along whatever it was she was crawling through, "What exactly is she doing..." he muttered aloud.

"I believe she is inside the ventilation system."

"Should have seen that answer coming," he replied with a chuckle. "What's her extraction plan?"

"Miss Romanoff did not mention an extraction plan."

There was that unsettling feeling again, lurking in the pits of his stomach. "You're telling me if she gets caught, she has no way out?"

Silence for a moment and then, "According to SHIELD files, there have only ever been two occasions where Miss Romanoff was captured when it was not her intention."

"That's not exactly comforting, Jarvis..."

"I assure you that Miss Romanoff is the most qualified infiltrator for this job, Doctor Banner."

He scrunched his nose up at that, watching as Natasha's movement stopped over a grate in the vents. It was the first time he saw anything besides her hands and the video was staring down into a room. The only thing inside it that he could see was a chair. Bruce didn't give it a second thought until her vital signs to the right of the screen started spiking, "What's that?"

"Miss Romanoff appears to be in distress..." came Jarvis' answer. It sounded about as worried as an AI actually could sound, "Her heart rate has increased significantly."

She only stayed where she was for another moment before watched her fingertips inch through the grate and she lifted it up and into the vent with her. A moment later he watched as she angled her body around and then she dropped out of the vent and into the the room. Even now, he couldn't see anything more then the chair and she seemed keen on stepping around it towards the door. Before her hand ever reached the knob, the door opened. Bruce recognized the one man among the many standing there almost instantly and he heard the spike rise again in Natasha's vitals.

Baron Wolfgang von Strucker.

"Hello, Natalia."

()()

Don't shoot me. I promise you won't wait long! There was originally more to this chapter, but it wound up being ridiculously large in length and I found this was the only point easily stopped at to flow into the next chapter the way I prefer it to.

Also, the whole 'Snow White' part, actually comes from the Black Widow Training scene in Marvel's Agent Carter. It's actually fairly twisted to watch that part...but as a twisty person, I'm all 'Haaaaay. I can use that!'.

Remember to vote for Option A or Option B in PM or Review, whichever you prefer. Without my mind-reading cap, I don't know what you're thinking.