Hello dear readers!

Thank you Guest for your reviews. I'm glad to see I'm improving! Haha, a mini cutie hulk? Wall, I cannot spoil you the story, you'll have to wait and see ;)

Now, here is the new chapter, hope you'll enjoy it!

Chapter 17

Aftermath

"Now I'm here suddenly I see

Standing here it's all so clear

I'm where I'm meant to be"

Rapunzel

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"Peter!"

"Do not 'Peter' me!"

"Come on! You can't be serious!"

"Rosie, I could not be more serious, even if I tried! Do yourself some good, and think about the facts: it will be Bruce's birthday. It has to be perfect, so we must plan. To rely on a 'maybe I know a clown, put it on the list' is not planning, it is wishing. I will have nothing to do with this!"

"You're just scared of clowns, admit it!"

"It has nothing to do with my personal fears and feelings! Even if I was afraid of clowns, which I'm not, I would not let it cloud my judgment. You should try it sometime!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"What's that supposed to mean?! Maybe that…"

Anna-Grace stopped listening to the angry conversation at that point, acknowledging she would indeed never know what 'that' was supposed to mean. From where she stood, leaning on the counter of her new kitchen, the loss seemed benign compared to one she couldn't forget. She didn't like how vulnerable it made her, but she missed Natalie and the life she had had before knowing the truth about Bruce. Natasha on the other hand…

Anna-Grace sighed as she remembered their conversations after The Discovery. As the ginger lady had made it clear, Anna-Grace was not to act on her newfound knowledge. Not that she really knew what to do with it - and she would rather have it buried somewhere in the corners of her mind - but how do you act « normally » around an ex-professional murderer? Oh, there was no doubt in the blonde's mind that she could trust the spy with Bruce's life, which was the only thing that truly mattered. But still, the Avenger remained a mystery…

If only that! But there was something else, something Anna-Grace only admitted with shame. She was intimidated. She felt insecure. Sure, Natasha liked her—she had made it clear—and Anna-Grace liked to think it was true. But still… She was only… Anna-Grace. And Natasha was Natasha! The Black Widow! The first female Avenger! How was one supposed to compete against « that »?

Such thoughts weren't pleasant ones, and the « mother » had needed something, anything, to distract her. Almost as a dare to those Avengers that lied to her and wanted to control her life, Anna-Grace had decided—without telling Natasha, even if it probably didn't really change much—that Bruce's actual date of birth was not in the « newfound knowledge she was not supposed to act upon » category. She had thus fixed her mind on offering Bruce the greatest birthday she was almost certain he never had.

It hadn't been difficult to bring Peter and Rosie along with her plans, and their first decision had been the date. They had agreed on the 21st of September, 3 days after Bruce's birthday but only 4 from today. Anna-Grace thought this perfect: not much time meant no time to think about Natasha.

So here she was, observing Rosie and Peter planning an event in an extremely short span of time, while Bruce was taking a much needed nap.

"You've just been hell bent on rejecting all my ideas since the beginning, Peter! What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?! Ha, nothing—except the fact that I had to listen to you for the past half hour throwing me worthless pieces of your mind!"

"Worthless pieces of my mind?"

"Well, I cannot possibly call them ideas!"

"You stupid man! So focused on your own little person, you can't see other peoples' point of view!"

"Really? I have been more than patient, Rosie! Look at this list! Look at it! I wrote down more ideas than deserved to be written down, but I did it because, despite your lack of minimum politeness, I do know you deserve basic respect…"

"You call that respect? Seriously? Insufferable old man!"

"Old? Well that does say something about you…"

Rosie's loud exclamation brought Anna-Grace back to the land of the living. Looking at Peter's slightly shameful face and Rosie's angry one, she couldn't help but chuckle at the show in front of her eyes. To think that before Bruce, she would've been scared out of her mind, fearing any sort of conflict even if it had nothing to do with her… These not-so-young people had found a place in her life, as if they had always belonged by her side. It felt…secure. Even with the Natasha situation.

At this last thought, Anna-Grace allowed herself a small peaceful smile despite the nagging feeling of fear. She was indeed growing, she thought, and it all was thanks to her sweet and openhearted baby boy. Because of him, she was rediscovering what trust and home meant together, and how easy it was to get used to it. She could allow herself to act as she wanted to, with no fear of the aftermath… So she did just that, interrupting the conflict with a teasing voice before it went to proportions it couldn't go back from:

"C'mon, Rosie, don't insult Peter, he's my landlord and my boss, I have a legal obligation to stand by his side in any future lawsuit against you!"

"Well, the tyranny does have to stop one day," answered a sarcastic and slightly offended Rosie.

Before Peter could offer some snapping comment of his own, Anna-Grace added:

"And Peter, please be nice. I need Rosie. She's the cheapest teacher I could have found for Bruce!"

At that weak argument, Peter let go of a smile with the corner of his mouth, and Rosie, while she remained silent, wriggled her eyebrows at him with playful eyes.

"Right, Bruce. I guess I can make an exception for him."

His eyes were on Rosie, and Anna-Grace suddenly thought he looked like a man in love. Rosie might've had the same idea because she coughed lightly, her teasing eyes looking at the table she was sitting at for a split second before coming back to Peter's face. The man suddenly looked at the list of ideas he had written down, looking embarrassed and wrote down another item, saying:

"I guess we could always have some balloons tied up around the ceiling. A room does look happier with balloons."

"Thank you, Peter. But you are right, using helium might be a little bit over the top," answered Rosie in a restrained and professional voice that did not sound like hers.

"A little bit," murmured Peter into his beard, incredulous.

It broke the weird tension that had hung in the room for the last minute, and Rosie opened her mouth, ready to snap at the man in from of her. However, the chuckle Anna-Grace couldn't suppress was enough to make Bruce's teacher hold her tongue, and Peter's corner smile brought a similar one to his partner in crime's face.

Words were left unsaid and Anna-Grace decided her friends needed privacy. Even though she was certain they would not use the solitude she gave them to say the words that hung in the air, she left for Bruce's bedroom, a very small and very private smile of tenderness on her face.

Once by Bruce's sleeping form, she observed her « son ». Passing her hand through his hair, she mused at how at peace he looked while asleep. Letting her thoughts drift again, Natasha came to her mind. However, for once, the subject didn't bring tension but peaceful wondering. Should I invite her to Bruce's birthday? He would love it… And he's feeling more and more confident around her…

That thought brought back Anna-Grace's knot in her stomach. After all, to invite Natasha into her little circle was not a step she could come back from. It was acknowledging Bruce's past and all the baggage that came with it. But letting Rosie and Peter in was the right move, no matter the danger that came with it. My life and Bruce's life are better because of it. Maybe letting people in isn't always the source of danger… And let's not even talk about letting Bruce in. Why should all this ordeal worry her so much? After all, at least now she knew Natasha was trustworthy. She was an Avenger!

It was then that all her insecurities came back like a boomerang, leaving her breathless as if she had taken a punch in her stomach. Natasha is an Avenger. And who was she? I'm afraid to lose him, realized the young woman, embarrassed. What? They won't steal him from me, will they?

Silence was the only answer she received, and she remembered, more accurately than before, that her Bambino shouldn't to be a little boy. Bruce Banner was supposed to be an adult, a grown up, an Avenger… The Black Widow was worthy of his company, she was his equal… Who was little and insignificant Anna-Grace, compared to them? I definitely hate his job! she couldn't help but think. As uneasiness started to root into her heart, Bruce woke up. If he was surprised to see her by his side, it didn't last, and he only murmured, half asleep:

"AG?"

"Yes, Bambino?" she answered, smiling, burying all her doubts once more in a pit of her mind. Natasha could be rotting in hell right now for all she cared. Her baby was all that mattered at the present time.

He looked at her for a couple of seconds before saying:

"I've been thinking."

"About what, my love?"

"About a house. For my ducks. They don't have one…"

"Mhmm."

"Do you think I can ask Peter to help me build one?"

"I'm sure he would love to help, Bruce," she answered lightly.

Bruce nodded, looking content, and cuddled near her. She continued stroking his hair, feeling peacefulness fill her again while he woke up slowly, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, he said, frowning:

"Are Rosie and Peter at home?"

Hiding her surprise at this reminder of Bruce's excellent hearing—when she herself could only hear whispers—she chuckled and assented, hoping the not-couple wasn't talking about the surprise party. She asked the boy if he wanted to go to meet them, at which he agreed with a nod, coming to sit on her lap with his head against her shoulder, still sleepy.

She went to the kitchen, all stressful thoughts forgotten for the evening as the boy in her arms was warmly welcomed by Peter and Rosie. Small talk—yet pleasant—was made, and at one point, dinner had to be cooked. Rosie got up before Anna-Grace could protest, saying that she wanted to prepare a special recipe for them. As Peter argued this would be a terrible idea and Rosie answered by throwing at him the towel she had in her hands, Anna-Grace started feeling gracefulness. This is home… Rosie couldn't hide her smile at Peter's complaints, prompting the Neverland owner to tell the Lorien family the story of Rosie's first meal for him, which had been a total disaster, indeed. Laughter was heard, not the last ones that evening. At one point, Bruce asked Peter to help, and they started drawing plans for the house with Rosie behind the pencil. Anna-Grace's gracefulness turned into strength.

Later that night, when Bruce was in bed and her friends were gone, Anna-Grace was left to ponder on that evening. Drinking tea offered by Rosie, sitting in the rocking chair in her bedroom, a book opened on her lap but unread, she remembered how afraid she had been to let Rosie and Peter into her life, and how stupid it sounded to her now. Sure, Natasha was another piece of cake, but trust was not an issue. Besides, you always liked her company before The Discovery. Sure, you're feeling a little insecure, but that's neither here nor there. Bruce needs her in his life, you know that. You might not fully comprehend it, but it's the truth. Bruce's needs are all you should care about.

There was still fear without real joy when she made her decision, but there was peace. She was going to invite Natasha to Bruce's birthday. For once in her life, she wasn't going to choose the easy way out of doing what was right.

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Bruce was happy. In the midst of all the strange things happening to him, the weirdest of all was that he was happy, wasn't afraid to be, and was excited about what each day could bring.

Sure, telling AG about all of it hadn't made his problems go away. But he wasn't afraid anymore. AG hadn't run away, she wasn't scared of Hulk, and he was happy.

Bruce was currently in his bed, and it was the morning. He had woken up to Anna-Grace singing in the kitchen while cooking breakfast. He indeed was happy. Hulk was happy, too, and Bruce knew it to be new. Hulk had been fear, distress, and anger before. But he never had been happiness.

At the same time, Bruce had to concede Hulk probably never had so much fun. Yesterday alone, Rosie had taught them how to paint with his fingers after Anna-Grace had given him clothes made especially to be dirty. Peter had brought him to a « junk food restaurant » where he had learned what "junk food" was and that he liked it a lot. They all went to the Park, where he played with Nathan and Tommy. And … and finally, the best part of the day, AG had tucked him into bed and read him stories. Falling asleep to her voice telling stories and awaking in the morning to her voice singing was Hulk's favorite part. Bruce loved it, too. He wasn't scarred of nightmares anymore because whenever he had one, he only had to call AG before she appeared by his side, if she wasn't already there when the nightmare ended. And then, either in his bed or tucked by her side in hers when nightmares had been pretty bad, he would always fall asleep to her singing voice.

It seemed like no matter what happened, she would always sing to him and Hulk.

He was so happy.

Well, maybe there was that tiny thing that worried him. He had noticed how Anna-Grace seemed to be hiding things from him, leaving him with Rosie or Peter for weird reasons. And Rosie, Peter, and Natasha were hiding things from him, too. And even yesterday, at the Park, Cherry had given him weird looks. He didn't really like it. It made him feel weird. Like something bad was about to come up. He couldn't help but wonder if AG had told everyone about what was wrong with him, and was warning them about him. But no, that was stupid, she was still there, and so were Peter and Rosie. They weren't different, the way adults sometimes were after talking to Dad. AG, Peter and Rosie were just hiding something from him.

So, do we trust them? Is it safe to trust them? That was a good question. But Bruce decided it also was a stupid question. Hadn't they just decided how happy they were with AG? They had never been so happy. AG liked them, he was sure of that. After all, she had had plenty of occasions to decide he was crazy and dangerous. She never ran away. She stayed and made them so happy. She was trustworthy, he was sure of it. But, then, what are they hiding? That, Bruce didn't know. But I don't care. Sure, AG is hiding something from us. But she took care of us. She likes us. She wouldn't want to hurt us. So, she must have a reason, a good reason. She is too nice to hurt people.

Both Hulk and Bruce could agree on that. And since AG was too nice to hurt people she didn't care about, how much would she not do to people she did care about?

It was on that happy thought that Anna-Grace arrived and he rushed out of bed to have breakfast. There was so much to do and think of, Bruce forgot about his morning doubts and the peace that had come with the conclusion of his and Hulk's reflections. Thus, he didn't notice how the little green boy in his mind retreated under the sea, feeling safe and sound enough to leave Bruce and Anna-Grace for now.

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A couple of days later, that trust had transformed into adoration. Bruce had always been close to that, but those with eyes to see mused over how Bruce's own eyes looked at Anna-Grace with something akin to worship. From what Natasha knew about Bruce's history, and even what Rosie had gathered, it didn't surprise them. What was unexpected was how completely oblivious Anna-Grace seemed to be to the change, even though her actions were the reason behind it. Or maybe it's not so surprising. Only such an obviousness, that would think it natural to plan two surprise birthdays and not be able to imagine it any other way. Only this could lay down Bruce's heart at her feet, thought Natasha as she left a waving, if somewhat sleepy, Bruce at his front door after the second successful birthday party.

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The first birthday had taken place on the 18th of December. Bruce had realized it was the date of his birth, but had not thought much of it. It wasn't as if this date was meant to be celebrated or even liked.

But that evening, Bruce could tell something was off. Really off. Rosie and Peter weren't there, even though it was Friday night. AG had let him in the bath alone, rushing to the kitchen instead of playing with him. But hearing his angel sing from the kitchen, Bruce felt all of the tension inside him dissipate.

"I love it when she sings," whispered the little boy to his ducks, as a secret they would never reveal.

Playing with them, he soon forgot about his suspicions, the bathroom flooded from all of the naval battles from which his ducks survive—or died and came back from the dead.

So, he only grinned when Anna-Grace came back to fetch him for dinner—asking him, "having fun with your friends, are you, Bambino?"— while skillfully avoiding the ponds and listening with great interest to how Blue duck and Red duck had saved Green duck from a most certain "big, big danger".

Following their routine, they ate dinner. Bruce was so engaged in his stories—about Rosie's lessons at this time—that he didn't notice his « mother » taking something from the oven until it hit his nostrils. Stopping short in what he was saying, he looked, eyes opened wide. There was cake in front of him, with five candles on top, and Anna-Grace lighted them, their flames dancing in front of his eyes. It was only when she sat by his side, and sung with her wonderful voice a sweet and soft « happy birthday » that he started crying. It was his birthday. Mommy wasn't there for that and he missed her. But Dad wasn't there to ruin it, and he wasn't afraid anymore. Anna-Grace wanted to surprise him. She wanted to celebrate the day he was born, as if it was a happy day. She thought, she believed it was a happy day because she loved him. AG didn't have to hide how much she loved him, and meant every soft word she had for him. He had blown the candles, but his tears were falling free now, he couldn't help it, he didn't care if he looked weak, he knew his hero would understand. She was like Mommy, she would know how happy he was.

And Anna-Grace did understand. She took her baby on her lap, rocking him, soothing him, sharing soon his tears. What greater happiness for a mother than to offer her child what he was so unjustly deprived of?

It took some time, but soon enough, Bruce's tears calmed down on Anna-Grace's lap. When the only traces of his breaking down were the occasional hiccups, the blond lady softly asked her favorite boy if he wanted to blow the candles once more. At his affirmative nod, she slid the cake near them, lighted the candled again, and when Bruce blew his five candles with a kind of smile she had never seen, it told Anna-Grace she had done the right thing.

"Happy Birthday, Bruce. May this new year of yours be filled with joy," she whispered into his ear, as he leaned on her in response, fighting tears and almost dizzy with emotions.

The lady left the cake untouched, as if she understood Bruce's reticence to cut it. It sure looked beautiful, with the five candles on top of it. Thinking this was all, the little boy was extremely astonished when his angel continued with the surprises:

"Now, Bambino, why don't you go fetch me what's in the bag by the door?" she said, pointing at a grocery bag leaning on the kitchen door.

Bruce looked at Anna-Grace, surprised, but her corner smile betrayed her excitement. Wondering what on earth could make her so excited, he went to the grocery bag and looked inside. There, laid in colorful rows, were three packages. Each one was wrapped in paper adorned with birthday ducks and gifts. Taking the packages, he looked at AG, unsure if this was what she wanted. Could it be… No, it can't… His heartbeat quickened, as he looked at what was in his hands. He looked at AG again, who must've sensed his doubts, because she only giggled and told him to come to the table to open his gifts. She was grinning, looking at him the way she looked at him when he did something she thought was adorable—which was often, he had to admit, even if he didn't always understand why—her foot tapping on the floor, unresting. She had called the packages « gifts ». They were gifts. For him. She had bought gifts for him, for his birthday.

Pressing the packages against his chest, Bruce slowly came to the table, before sitting on his seat, the gifts in front of him. He didn't dare open them. He was too excited. He also was too scared. The last time he had opened a gift had been a disaster. But last time, Dad was there, thought Bruce. And he is not here anymore, he added with relief. Anna-Grace was there, and she was happy to be, and would not be mad at him for opening presents.

Deciding he had wasted enough time fearing something that wasn't there anymore, Bruce suddenly tore apart the paper, excited to discover what was hidden underneath.

Staring at the beautiful books, he felt his smile grow, his chest feeling so light he might fly to the ceiling, just like in that movie with the nice babysitter. How could he, Bruce Banner, deserve so much happiness?

He looked up at Anna-Grace's face, a thousand "thank you"s on the lips. But she was looking at him with that look in her eyes that Mommy had had sometimes: the tiny smile that can't disappear but cannot grow, the eyes opened wide and battling eyelids sending any tear away. The one that said she was sad to be so happy. So he decided to do what he always did in such a case. He diverted his hero, to not let the sadness sink in her.

Lifting up his books, he said with enthusiasm:

"Thank you so much Anna-Grace! Can you read me a story now?"

His question made his angel laugh, chasing the sadness away.

"Maybe we could eat the cake first, Bambino," she answered with dancing eyes.

Bruce' belly suddenly rumbled, and he realized he did have room for some more. His thought path must've been obvious to his savior, because she laughed even louder and served him a generous portion. Laughing with her, the little boy attacked his slice. He didn't remember ever eating such a good cake.

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"How did it go?" Natasha had asked.

"You don't know?" Anna-Grace had answered, surprised.

"I didn't listen. It was your moment."

The "mother" had been touched by the trust Natasha gave her, and reassured to see her privacy respected. Maybe Natasha had been lying, but Anna-Grace would rather be wrong and trust the spy, than be right and suspicious. It was too tiring to suspect the ginger lady.

So, after inviting the spy to Bruce's second birthday party, the blond lady had told how the first one had been a success. After the dessert, Anna-Grace and Bruce had taken turns reading the stories from the books she had offered him, him reading a story about ducks, then her reading a story about math and numbers, and so on. He had fallen asleep in the middle of one about Georges Washington, his tiny frame wrapped around his gifts, his messy hair and restful face a sight to behold.

The sad note in Anna-Grace voice when she had talked about Bruce's surprise and joy in front of the cake and the gifts didn't go unnoticed by Natasha. Nor did the fiery in the mother's voice when she finished by saying Bruce had been safe in his bed by the end of the day. Anna-Grace didn't say it, but this event had been as necessary for the mother that it had been for the son. Indeed, she had finally realized she didn't care if her baby was supposed to be a grown man, fighting aliens and robots, because that night, Bruce had forgotten about the monsters he was so afraid of, and she couldn't wait to do this all over again.

However, the spy disagreed on one part of the conclusion: Bruce didn't need a birthday party to forget about his monsters. Living with Anna-Grace was well enough to erase any nightmare from his mind.

So while the blond lady only shared her joy at this second chance, the ginger one listened, breathing in the healing like she was breathing oxygen.

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The second birthday, the one that made Bruce literally worship Anna-Grace, had taken place only three days after the first one.

Bruce could've never imagined it even in his biggest dreams: to enter home by Anna-Grace's side and see so many friends—Peter, Rosie, Natasha, Nathan and his family—wish him a happy birthday was more than he deserved, surely.

But they were there, and everyone was laughing, and Anna-Grace had whispered it was a gift from her. Mommy always said it wasn't polite to refuse gifts, so Bruce allowed himself the moment, deciding to put aside the overwhelming feelings that made him want to crawl in Anna-Grace's arms: soon enough, he was running around the apartment with Nathan, who quickly organized a hide and seek party, and all the children scattered in the apartment.

There were screams—some of joy, some of surprise, some of anger as always with kids—but no tears. The cake arrived with candles and the happy birthday song for the boy who kept looking everywhere like he was in a dream, devouring the show with his eyes. Gifts were given, and among all the toys and candies, Bruce felt particularly touched by the book on Winston Churchill from Nathan, who had remembered their conversation on the historical figure the last Sunday. Even those less inclined to feel comfortable around children came to the conclusion the kids' joy had been worthwhile with their noisiness and energy.

After the families had left, with sleepy kids asking for more and calmed only by the promise of seeing each other again on Sunday, Peter started teaching Bruce chess with the chess board he had offered to the boy. Rosie tidied up the apartment with Anna-Grace and Natasha, commenting on how successful the afternoon had been: "I have to admit I had lots of fun; more than I thought I would, Anna-Grace. You had a great idea inviting those families."

Soon, Natasha had to leave "for a meeting", and the smile and tiny press on the hand she gave Anna-Grace told the mother her past emotions—and torments—had been clear to the spy who was proud of how the mother had handled it all. Anna-Grace didn't know if her blushed face came from knowing it was right, or being so glad it made Natasha proud.

Then it was time for bed for Bruce, who was exhausted and Anna-Grace lifted him up in her arms, hugging him tightly, while he waved goodbye to Rosie and Peter, too tired to even speak.

Rosie then came crashing on the couch by Peter's side, commenting on how kids were funny.

"What do you mean?" asked Peter, surprisingly not grumpy at all even after spending so much time around kids.

"I witnessed a scene that opened my eyes, Peter."

"Really?"

"Yes. I saw kids running to one of the mothers—Cherry? Anyway, one of the kids, a girl, was pouting, saying the other one was a mean boy. Of course, the boy denied and the mom asked—with quite a tired voice I have to say—what the boy did that was mean. Well, believe it or not, after a pause, the girl said she didn't remember, but she did know it had been mean!"

Rosie was laughing and Peter realized he liked that sound and didn't mind thinking it. The story was funny, and he smiled, turning to Rosie, who was looking at all the balloons still attached to the ceiling. However, she looked at him quickly and saw him smiling at her, which he hadn't thought could happen. It was stupid, but then, one of those extremely annoying songs on the radio came back to his mind: "Step one: come a little closer; Step 2: rest upon my shoulder; Step 3: I'm calling you Baby; 3 steps 3 steps". He didn't know who it was from, but he suddenly wanted this to happen. He couldn't help but laugh at the idea of calling Rosie "Baby", knowing very well she wouldn't like it and would probably get upset about it, which would be why he would keep on calling her "Baby", just to continue hearing her fussing at him. He suddenly realized why he kept on annoying her and the words came tumbling out of his mouth without him realizing it before it was too late:

"I missed you fussing at me."

Her eyes widened, and he thought about withdrawing, but she suddenly smiled. She knew he was talking about that time she left and did not come back before several years.

"I know. I missed hearing you grumping all the time." Her smile fell. "Which is why I stayed away."

I was scarred was the unspoken truth they each saw reflecting in the other's eyes.

"You would think we wouldn't be so chicken at our age."

Rosie's smile came back, and she answered him:

"It's because we're old that we know the need to be scared. We're not idealistic fools."

"But isn't it better than being depressed fools?"

"Well, Peter, aren't you full of surprises? Who thought you would be the one preaching optimism?"

Peter laughed at her teasing voice, acknowledging his bad character, but didn't answer her, looking at the balloons instead. He heard his friend sigh by his side, and he knew she understood him. They had been lonely for so long that they weren't used to friendship and love anymore. But all they needed was a boy with an open heart and a young woman with an open, if hesitant, smile. As Rosie slowly took his hand, holding it between hers, he could feel her rings which he knew by heart stroking his fingers, and he knew the smile on his face was the twin of hers. He didn't say "I love you" because it wasn't yet the time, but they both knew it would soon be said.

Ta da!

So, what did you think? Please let me know! :)