Chapter 7: Giving Chase
Another week and a half had passed, and any evidence of Bruce's unconscious 'fit' was long gone. It took less than an hour to repair the wall, and furniture was never a problem. The days that followed were smoother, easier. Tony was aware of how he felt. He just didn't give it any power. And so, things got better between him and Pepper. Things felt better. They ate out, they spoke, they smiled. They were close. He and Bruce even had a little routine. The two would meet up in the lab, talk science, and laugh a little. The doctor was even making an effort to open up a bit more. Not as much as Tony would like, but it was definitely a start. It was late afternoon, and the two were now partaking in their own individual studies, glancing at each other every so often.
"So," Tony began, looking over his shoulder, "I planned a little get-together with the team and was wondering if—"
"No. Thank you, but no," Bruce interrupted, gently swirling a flask of bluish solvent. "I'm busy."
"Oh? Enlighten me, doctor. With what exactly are you too busy that can't wait a few hours?"
The doctor turned around to find Tony silently reading him. "…I'm not exactly a socialite, Tony. You know that." He just wasn't ready for all that entailed. Explaining his long absence, the rampage just before he'd gone off the radar… It would be far more stressful than he was comfortable with. Dark, analytical eyes met their brown, apprehensive counterparts. The engineer took two steps forward, his arms folded firmly over his chest. Giving the hardest of looks, he spoke. "I believe you're trying to bullshit me. It isn't working, though… Thought you should know that." The doctor removed his glasses, a soft smile masking his agitation. "I don't want to go. It's that simple." "That simple…" Tony repeated. His jaw tightened, but he pressed no further. "Alright." The engineer returned to his work, as did Bruce. The doctor was excessively stubborn, so much so that Tony was often tempted to strangle the truth out of him. How'd the saying go? Old habits die hard? Not like knowing that helped much. He stared blankly at his tools, wondering what was going on in the doctor's head.
Bruce carefully added the solute (his blood), a small exothermic reaction following. Bubbles rose far past the mouth of the flask, overflowing and pooling around the bottom of the glass. A quiet "damn it" escaped the doctor's lips as he searched frantically for something to clean it with. Amused, Tony said nothing, merely holding out a rag for Bruce to notice. "Tony, a little help. Is there a…? Oh. Thanks." Tony smiled. "Care to take a break from your Green Guy Extraction Project?" Bruce said nothing, staring straight ahead as he washed and dried his hands. Still silent, he leaned against the counter, leg crossed over the other, hands resting on the edge.
Intrigued, Tony stared on at the doctor. "Brooding again, Bruce?" The doctor glanced at him, a playful smile smoothing his features, though he remained silent.
Reaching for a small bag of sour gelatin candy, he popped one of them in his mouth. "I think I'll have that break now."
Tony arched a brow, head slightly cocked to the side. He maintained an air of aloofness, not giving too much away. He liked to keep up a few walls of his own. "Oh? Good."
Bruce sauntered over to Tony's side of the workspace, glancing over his work. Picking up a small, steel piece yet to be assembled, he stared closely at it. "When is this little reunion?" He inquired, eyes still set on the counter in front of him.
Tony glanced at his watch, shrugging. "Oh, I'd say in about… 3 hours."
The doctor stifled a small laugh, setting the metal object down. "Typical Tony Stark." His voice lowered cautiously, his brown eyes briefly meeting the other's. "Why such short notice?"
The engineer smirked. "I'm spontaneous, Bruce. Unpredictable. It's what I do. Besides, since when does it take anyone three hours to get ready?" The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, lips pursed. He had an answer to everything.
Tony wasn't stupid. Bruce wanted to go. It wouldn't be forced, however. There was always next time. He stood across the counter from Bruce, soaking the moment in. Unaware, the doctor merely stared downward, eyes projecting a dichotomy of conscience. And so Tony quietly cogitated.
Every conflicting thought that ailed the man was meant to lay untouched and locked away. They'd been ignored, deprived of any attention for them to grow into more dangerous things. Soon, they would just stop altogether. They would die off. He was sure of it. But this entire time, they'd been tugging relentlessly against their shackles.
"You alright, Tony?"
"Fine." Tony said.
"I'll… take your word for it."
"Good call."
Silence followed. The air grew heavy with unspoken words and an undeniable tension. Neither were comfortable and neither attempted to speak first. It was déjà vu for the doctor. However, this time, the engineer's expression was blank. His defenses were raised for whatever reason, and once they were, they were impenetrable. Stark's eyes were unreadable; where casual jauntiness once was, stoicism had taken its place. Bruce stepped away, fingers laced together.
It was a little frustrating. For once, he wanted to know what the other was thinking. Tony could be such a hypocrite at times… He had created boundaries of his own, letting no one in except perhaps Pepper. Maybe that was enough.
…Or maybe Bruce was overthinking all of this. But despite his attempts at self-reassurance, something told him Tony was indeed troubled. Something told him he had been for some time now. He hadn't hidden it well enough. Bruce had done his best not to pry. But this was ongoing. The doctor removed his glasses from his pocket, placing them snuggly against the bridge of his nose.
Tony stared into space, subtleties of anger written on his face. He was bathed in the light of the early evening, said light changing in intensity as clouds drifted past. Abstract shapes of golden lumination danced across the tiled floor as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.
Bruce silently implored the other to speak, and still, quiet reigned. Just as Bruce opened his mouth, he was interrupted.
"Don't say anything. You've seen this before. I know. But this isn't anything serious." The doctor raised a brow in disbelief. Tony rolled his dark eyes, brows furrowed. "I'm fine. Don't believe me? That's on you."
Bruce leaned slightly forward, not intending on letting up. "Yeah, I guess it is. But that's the wonderful thing about not wanting to put a bullet in my own head anymore: I know when something's not right with people. It's your turn to open up."
"…Okay, Bruce, get out."
"I'm sorry?"
"Your ears are fine, don't pretend they aren't. Please exit the lab, and do so with urgency."
"May I ask why?"
"Good question. No you may not."
Head slightly tilted in confusion, the doctor acquiesced and headed for the door. It was Tony's lab, after all. He took a final glance at the engineer, eyes burning with unadulterated confusion. The door shut tightly behind him, and as soon as it did, the muffled sound of music reached his ears.
He stood outside the lab, leaning against the wall, which vibrated ever so slightly.
The man truly was unpredictable.
…
30 minutes later…
There was no denying it anymore. He was falling for his introverted counterpart. Yes… falling. Tony had mustered up enough courage to acknowledge it for what it was. He'd hidden it exceptionally well, even from himself. But in the end, his efforts to suppress these feelings had been for naught. When he pushed, they pushed back… and with vigor. They'd only gotten stronger from their time in limbo.
He admitted, kicking the doctor out was a bit out of character, but it had to be done. He needed to be alone. Just him, his thoughts, and his music.
As usual, the man was unaware of what he was doing. It was unspeakable torture. Each word spoken, each small spark of his authentic self… it would draw the billionaire further in. And for that, he was somewhat pissed at Bruce. Irrational, yes, but the blame had to be placed somewhere; the doctor's ignorance wouldn't get in the way of that. It was a given that Bruce would eventually discover some of the billionaire's flaws. He already has. He wasn't perfect. About as far from it as one could be, despite appearances. He was tearing at the seams, ever so slowly, and soon he would slip up altogether. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out when that would be. But the more he stuck by Bruce's side, the more this unwanted attraction would emerge. He was bringing this upon himself. If closeness was the problem, distance had to be the solution.
Tony glanced to his left.
In nearly every room, there was a mini bar. That was the beautiful thing about this tower. Grabbing a bottle of brandy from the mini-fridge, he sat in a nearby swivel chair. He poured some into a fair-sized glass and drank. The alcohol went down smooth, its mild and residual burn taming him. It wasn't the answer, he knew that, but he took comfort in knowing that it could put his mind at ease, if only for a little while.
He inhaled deeply, staring into the dark liquid in his glass.
Temporary amnesia.
…
Bruce sipped at his chamomile concoction, staring into space. He was alone, accompanied only by silence. Anxiety had reared its fear-mongering head once again, but he found it easier to cope with. Alone didn't feel so… alone. Still, these thoughts came almost periodically, and he'd done a good job keeping it to himself. Really, it was all about information. Information he wasn't quite comfortable to share, at least not yet. He wanted to enjoy this fresh new mentality. Still, flashes of his cynical self ran across his mind, and his grip tightened considerably around his mug. A pang of fear stabbed at his chest, and he didn't flinch. It only wanted attention. Attention he wouldn't give.
It clung to him, and he shook it off. He glanced at his watch. 7:48. Tony would be leaving soon. He was tempted to join him…
The doctor stood, his mug now empty. He washed it, found a loose jacket and headed for outside, per the new, freer tower protocol.
The air was crisp with an early autumn breeze and the sky clear, dotted with distant heavenly bodies. Beautiful. He meandered around the block, glancing absently at the conglomerate of stores and shops that lined the streets. Even at this time, the city was still bustling with people, all with somewhere to go, somewhere to be. A never-ending hustle, living a life of distraction and disconnect. It wasn't something he could appreciate. Then again, at least these people knew where they were going, where they were headed. He had little, if any, sense of direction in his life. He wanted to change. He told Tony this. He told himself this.
And still, he held himself back.
He found himself standing in front of a psychic reading center. Amused, he smiled. He hardly believed in this kind of thing, but perhaps he would humor 'the fates' just this once. He pushed the door open, a gentle chime alerting his entrance. The lighting was soft and not overbearing, a great contrast from the city lights. The air smelled of freshly burned incense and sage. Pleasing to the senses and the mind.
"Hello, dear." Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin. In front of him stood a short, older woman. She wore loose-fitting attire, with patterns that seemed to dance as she moved. Each arm was adorned with bracelets of various crystals and wood. Her graying and coarse hair was pulled neatly into a bun, revealing a face of subtle wrinkles. The woman smiled, the expression easily reaching her intense smoky gray eyes.
He returned the gesture, head bowed ever so slightly. "Oh, sorry. I was just taking this in for a moment."
"No need to apologize, darling. I've been expecting a visitor for some time now. Was growing a bit impatient, actually." She chuckled. "My name is Isis, and you are…" she took his hand in hers, "David."
The doctor nearly cringed at the name. "…I prefer to be called Bruce." His discomfort was less than concealed. "Oh, I see…" Isis nodded with understanding eyes. "Bruce it is."
She led him to small room, lit only by soft candlelight. A few feet into the room was a table, only about a foot high. Draped over it was satin cloth, which spilled gracefully into the dark plush carpet. A small candle in the center illuminated the area. Isis gestured for him to sit. "Please, make yourself comfortable. A relaxed mind leads to a clearer, more concise reading." And so the doctor obliged. The subtle scent of lavender reached his nose, calming him further. He adored lavender. It was one of his favorite scents. Isis joined him, a small smile lightening her features. Once more, she took his hands in hers. "Alright, Bruce, shall we begin?" The doctor nodded.
"Y'know, most people have it all wrong. Everyone's 'psychic' in one way, shape, or form. Those so-called 'psychics' out there are merely attuned to their innate abilities. But one doesn't have to be 'attuned' to know that you are in pain." Bruce said nothing. "And let me guess. You don't like to talk about your pain."
"No, I guess not," the doctor sighed. Eyes closed, the woman took a deep and slow breath. "That won't do, Bruce. I sense confusion in your psyche as well." She ran her fingers across his palm. "Your hands speak volumes of your past. These lines, cuts, and creases all tell a story. You desire so many answers, yet you do not fight for them. Just as you so adamantly fight yourself, you must apply that same passion into getting what you so desire."
Isis opened her eyes once more. "Hm… I sense someone else. This person can be rather ostentatious at times. Abrasive, overconfident… Yet this person is also very special. This person keeps you grounded."
"You could say that, yes."
"Well then, I say you stick with this person. This person truly loves you, and will only help to elevate you." At that, Bruce stiffened, but he thought nothing more of it.
Isis smiled cheekily, saying nothing more on the subject. "Uh-huh… Your Life Line"—she pointed to the line that traces his inner palm—"indicates something rather pleasant may happen in the near future. What exactly, I cannot say, as 'pleasant' could mean many things. This is to be determined by yourself." She lifted her gaze, peeking at her client. He seemed more tense than when he first sat down. A slight grimace darkened her features. "You have homework, Bruce. You need to be persistent. You need to be more open. You need to relax. The rest will follow." The doctor nodded, not quite sure what to believe. He was still by all means a skeptic, though he had to admit what she said hit pretty close to home. Perhaps the "better attuned" were not as fraudulent as people made them out to be.
"Isis," he began, chuckling sheepishly. He felt absolutely ridiculous. "I uh, I have a question."
"Go on ahead. We still have 2 minutes."
"I have a feeling this… person of mine has issues of his own. He refuses to let me help him the way he's helped me. Do you see him ever…?"
"Confiding in you? If Tony could, darling, Tony would. But he feels he can't… or shouldn't."
"How did—"
The woman smiled. "How do you think? I knew this was eventually going to lead up to Mr. Tony Stark. Charming man, he is."
The doctor ignored the woman's dreamy drivel, concern overpowering the calm atmosphere. "Is it dire? His situation, I mean."
"It certainly is dire for him, I'll say that much." A hint of a smirk tugged at the woman's lips. "I sense that he's… figuring a lot of things out." She glanced upward at a clock on the wall, humming softly in recognition "It looks like this session is over, Bruce. And don't worry about paying; the first is always free." The doctor's mouth was ajar, filled with unasked questions. The older woman handed him a card. "If you ever want to speak again, set up an appointment. Save those questions until then, hm?" Her gray eyes searched his for any promise of his return. To her delight, it seemed likely. "Perhaps next time, you'll be open and willing enough for me to help heal your past wounds. It would do you a lot of good."
The doctor tucked the card in his pocket and pulled his jacket on, mulling over what was said. "Thank you, Isis, for your time. Maybe there will be a next time." He certainly hoped so. The answers here weren't definite, but at least he felt he was getting somewhere. Isis led him to the exit, waving him goodbye. When he was far enough away, she chuckled,
"Ah, geez. He doesn't have a clue."
AN: Poor Bruce. So many unanswered questions.. He wants to know.
Poor Tony. Too many questions answered.. He wants to forget.
And you! Don't forget to review, if you so desire~~