Bruce Banner had been walking the streets of New York for a few hours before Clint caught up to him, linking an arm through his and bundling into the back of a waiting black sedan with him after another block. He'd left the Tower to try to clear his head of the memories of those good army boys who had tried so very hard to kill him; to try and clear out the anger at seeing Tony's supposed best friend, unable to even talk to the memory of him and haunting the halls of the place he needed to have as a safe-haven.

Tony had believed in Bruce. Had treated him with friendship and amusement rather than barely-contained fear. For that, Bruce owed him part of his sanity, if he was being honest with himself. Tony had only ever even entertained the idea of building something that could contain the Hulk when Bruce had specifically asked him to, and Bruce had been included in everything every step of the way, so that he knew what would happen to him, and Tony had his approval on everything to do with it. Tony had faced the Hulk head-on, without a hint of anything other than the caring and humour that he showed Bruce, and for that, Bruce and the Hulk had both learned to trust Tony implicitly.

With Tony, came Clint: who played that he was too stupid to fear the Hulk, but in reality, Bruce knew it was because he had simply seen what Tony did, had seen how it had helped, and mirrored it so that Bruce had another person to fall back on. Natasha was still nervous around him from time to time, but when Bruce had told this to Tony, it'd been explained to him in a way that Bruce honestly knew he never would have wrapped his mind around: Natasha was trained, from childhood, to be what she was, and to be the best at it. The Hulk had very nearly beat her once, and the training in her had to figure out how to make damn sure it never happened again.

"Your new name is Bruce Banting," Clint began, bringing out a small file folder, "you're a microbiologist-which was my idea, that way you can go to the pretty places and claim to be studying the organisms in the crystal blue waters-you have a wife, Natalia Banting, who works as an attorney and could not join you on your most recent field excursion, but will once she has the choice-meaning, if you need her, call." Looking Clint in the eye, Bruce took the papers automatically, "Tell the hostess you check in with to call you Bruce, this is one of the better hotels, so everyone will be given the notice that you prefer to be called by your first name; it makes it easier for you if you forget your last. In the file is a back story, your financials, and a ticket to anywhere in the world for as long as you want." Clint reached to Bruce's collar, removing something with a small grunt and tossing it from the window, then taking his watch, too, and popping open the back to remove another tiny tracking device before smashing it under his boot heel and handing Bruce a new one, "SHIELD will not be able to track or follow you. You can contact Nat or I if you want to; our Skype account is in there, as is your new one. Tony has asked that I tell you not to do anything that he wouldn't do, which narrows it down to, like, mini golf and Mexican food in a place that is far too far from Mexico." Bruce snorted, laughing helplessly. If his hands shook slightly on the package handed him, Clint didn't comment, handing over a small travel bag as well, and gesturing for Bruce to go first as the car pulled up to the curb outside the airport.

The door opened, and a small, familiar hand reached inside, helping Bruce out before Natasha pulled him in for a throttling hug. "I'm gonna miss you, you big lug." She purred in his ear, her voice full of her small, fond smile. She laced her fingers through his hair, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Take this," she slipped him a bag, her eyes bright as she went down from her tip-toes, letting the backs of her fingers run along his jaw, "when you get through security, put them on. They'll help you to...keep calm." Her smile slid off, "And when you get to wherever you're going, take your time. Your home here isn't going anywhere."

Sitting back in his first class cocoon, Bruce took out the bag Clint had handed him and fiddled with it, opening it up finally and pulling out a pair of purple headphones with a post-it that read 'Hear me', in an Alice in Wonderland scrawl. Bruce pulled them on, a kind of anxiety in his chest as he did. "Hello, science brother." Tony's voice purred in his ear. "You mind having me as a travel companion?"

"Wh-What is this…?"

There was a subtle click and Natasha's voice came in, "Doctor Banner, Tony and I have been talking through headphones, and I thought you might like to join us."

Bruce dragged in a deep breath, clearing his throat, "Thank you, Tasha."

"Really, for the most part, it'll be just you and me, like I have it with Tash. Super-secret science stuff." Tony told him.

Bruce smiled, "I'm all yours, Tony."

"Sexy," Tony smarmed back, and Natasha's tinkling laugh could be heard before there was another click. "Now, for the dulcet tones I shall croon into your ear, my dear rage monster."

Bruce sat back in the cocoon, grinning ear to ear as he listened to Tony ramble about how the tech of the neural interface would give him a headache if he still had a head, and even though it was horrible and just a little callous, it was also undeniably Tony. "You know, if Steve had tried to give the Other Guy orders in the field, I think I might have torn him apart." Bruce told him suddenly, and Tony's stream of idle chatter died instantly.

"To be honest, snookums, that's kind of why I'm sending you on a quest to find your centre. You were the secondary brains of this operation, after all. They're gonna need you before the end."

"Like we needed you?" Bruce asked softly, accepting a glass of orange juice with a smile, "Like we need you still?"

"Brucie bear, I love you, but you can't make me feel worse than I already do."

"I don't want you to, Tony. I just...I wish you'd talked to me." The gravity of Bruce's voice was heartwrenching.

"You put a bullet in your mouth and the other guy spit it out." Tony murmured softly. "I've had some time, now...to think about it. About why I couldn't come to you, even though I knew that you had been where I was, too."

"And what are your conclusions?"

"You were too good of a man, and I was too much of a mess. You had picked yourself up, Bruce, and I couldn't even fathom it. I was not exactly an easy man, Bruce, and I couldn't risk making you hate me."

"So you decided that dying was a better option?"

"I am not a strong man, Bruce. I couldn't try to keep myself going, any more than I could even think of being...being better."

"I understand," Bruce told him softly, because he actually did. He knew how dark it got when your own mind was trying to do its worst to you. He knew intimately what it felt like. Bruce also knew that he couldn't have asked for help when he'd been as dark a place as Tony had been. He wished, for a selfish moment, that Tony had been unable to take his escape just as Hulk had stopped him. For a breathless moment, rage almost boiled over within him, if only for the memory of what it had felt like, not to have his own way out, and for the trap in which Tony had now been ensnared in.

Bruce cleared his throat, sitting back and closing his eyes, a small smile on his face. "Anyway, tell me about the tech that has your brain hooked up into your servers."

Tony laughed, "Now that is something that is worth talking about!"