Tony didn't know what to do. Would he bring him home? Would he leave him there? Would he carry the body of his most prized possesion, or would he leave him there... along with the casualties?

He wasn't fine. It wasn't fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine.

Before he left, he wrapped him up in a neat blanket, covered in stars and colorful planets. Before he left, he kissed his forehead. Before he left, he should had made sure he was safe. He should have found a way to destroy the shadows quicker. He should've. He should've.

He took the bundle in his arms, one last time. A tight squeeze, but never too tight. As if he didn't want to harm his son. As if he was still alive.

No parent should ever outlive their own child.

Tony Stark shouldn't.

He shouldn't have.

Tony should not have outlived his own son.

What would he do with his kid now. Hold a private ceremony? Bury him in his house? Or...

He left. He left. He *ing left. Tony Stark wad a coward. Tony Stark shouldn't have felt like he deserved him. The kid would be buried in the nice cementary, where all the casualties were. They always were. The kid doesn't need Tony Stark crying everyday over his grave, saying his apologies over and over - he doesn't deserve that torture.

And so he left. He left. Tony Stark left.

But someone else stayed. Bruce stayed.

And he would tend the flame in Tony's absence.

--

Bruce wasn't ready to be a parent. I mean, he was kinda ready when he said he'll keep the kid, but raising one was Hela different. (Hehe)

The kid doesn't cry loud since they didn't seem to have a voice. But it was the fact kept Bruce awake all night. He was constantly there checking on the child's condition, looking for any changes and threats.

His roller chair glides across the floor for a few seconds, and he now faces his workdesk. The makeshift 'crib' of baskets and books was right beside Bruce, to make sure he doesn't miss anything. Sure, the child didn't have any limbs, but it could roll off and Bruce wasn't going to take any chances.

Now, off to work he goes.

The exposed muscle shouldn't be too comfortable, and the kid didn't have skin which means they could contract infections and all sorts of complications. He couldn't regrow the skin. He had learned not to tamper with life using science. There was a little grey area there, but this doesn't feel right.

Of course, he could cover the kid with some medical plaster, but he wasn't sure about letting the kid turn into a living band-aid. But the kid... might not even last too long.

Maybe, if he survuves the night, he would be thinking long term.

But for the time being...

Bruce wrapped the kid all over... like a Christmas present.

He looks at the clock. 10:51 PM. About... lunch time in the other side of the world. And on the other side of the world, there is someone who could help him.

He rummages through his bag, pulling out a book where he had compiled all his contacts for future reference. He remembered a name.

Dr. Helen Cho.

She picked up at the second ring.

"Hello?" Her soothing voice echoes through the line.

"Uh... hello? Dr. Cho?" Bruce mumbled. How was he going to explain this?

"Yes? May I ask who this is?"

"I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, we uh, met sometime ago in a convention?"

"Bruce Banner..." Helen tried out the name, hoping it would ring a bell. "Ah! Dr. Banner! The gamma and prosthetics one, is it?"

"Uh yes. Uh... yeah. Excuse me, Dr. Cho, you were the one that invented the 'Cradle', right?"

"Yes? What could I do to help you? Last time I checked, gamma didn't have much to do with my field. Prosthetics is a little but..."

"Uh, I wasn't-- I wasn't going to ask about that, Dr. Cho, I... I have someone who needs your help right now."

There was a pause in the other line, and when Helen came on again her voice is much more intrigued, focused, and sharp. "How soon do you need me there?"

"I don't really know. Maybe in the morning?"

"In the morning?" She asked, sounding confused. "What do you mean by 'morning'? Do they not need urgent attention?"

"It's... a little complicated." Bruce whimpered then sighed. "It would be best that you see the situation for yourself, if possible.

"Dr. Banner," Helen spoke carefully, "what is going on over there?"

--

So Helen is a freakin genius, so I figured she would know that is Bruce's last resort if he ever contacted her. The hospitals should deal with the injuries, but if tissue regeneration was badly and urgently needed then something must be wrong. Like wrong wrong. I have 0 access to anything comic related (except Wikipedia) so I have no idea on Helen except her parts in the movie (which i can barely recall).

Also, I really liked Bruce because he's like a confused puppy 85% of the time. Like, "how long was I gone?" "Broke up? Like the Beatles?" "Are you an alien? -- N-no." And also... "Is that Paul Rudd?! Is that paul Rudd?!?"

And also, I don't know how to end chapters so like yeah.