Chapter 11: Unrest

Tony felt as if he'd swallowed a fistful of sand. His voice was stuck, unwilling to leave his throat. But then Pepper raised a dismissive hand.

"Whoa there. There's nothing wrong with a little solidarity."

"…You've been standing there how long?"

The woman adjusted the stack of folders in her careful grasp, appearing unbothered. "Not very. I was handling a little bit of business before tonight, but I realized I hadn't told you I'd be gone for the evening… Ladies Night with Trish. Anywho, I never pegged you as the drinking type, Doctor." She tilted her head with a warm smile. "Nice to know you like to let your hair down every once in a while." Banner said nothing but nodded, heart practically leaping out of his chest. Pepper continued. "Yeah… it's gonna be a great night, and I'll have some much-needed fun, so… here I am… to tell you that."

"Oh… Well, thanks for the courtesy pop-up. Maybe we can work around three spa trips a week for ya." At that, the dress-clad woman gave a soft chuckle, eyes sparkling.

"It wouldn't be quite as special." There was a brief pause, an uncomfortable quiet spread thick between the three of them. "…Well, I'm gonna wrap this paperwork up and head out. Ciao!" Just as quickly as she came, Tony's favorite woman departed, a bounce in her step.

"Bye…" Tony half-sighed, gripping his forearm. Everything about that was odd. But in the heat of the moment, he was willing to accept impunity as it was presented. His shoulders sank, a weak "Goddamn it…" escaping his lips.

That was far too close.

A few moments had passed before either genius spoke.

"…I think I'm gonna go now." The lack of panic in Bruce's voice was testament to the opposite.

"No, you stay your ass right there." Tony pointed an unwavering finger in his direction. "And you," he eyed the ceiling, "don't act like you aren't all ears. What is it, 'Don't Listen To Me' Week?"

"I'm sorry, Tony, but your requests aren't the only ones I am to oblige. Miss Potts IS a resident of this tower, correct?"

"Of course she is, Jarvis. But I specifically—" he stopped himself. "Do I detect a note of contempt in your tone?"

"If I may be so bold, Sir, perhaps you might."

Great. It wasn't enough that he felt like utter crap by his lonesome… His noncorporeal AI butler had somehow given him the cold shoulder as well. "Jarvis. Jarvis, buddy. Pal. I know you're not happy and I'm… a bit of a mess right now." "…" "…but I'm wading through it, alright? These're… human problems. I'm sorry, but you wouldn't understand."

"You're right; to be human is an experience I'll never know, but I do know this: No one is exempt from the necessity of self-control." Good lord, this was therapist and patient all over again. Jarvis being what he is, he could never truly, fully grasp human sentiments. But he was pretty damn close. So close his words could hurt Tony just the way they needed to. His artificial nature made their exchanges evermore apropos, ironically. And at times, the engineer wondered if he was more human than himself.

"If you've got anyone to be mad at, Jarvis, it's me." The doctor took a chance to ameliorate the tension. "I didn't exercise that self-control. Staying within my bounds is what I've always done, but like some impulse-driven teen, I just stopped. I tried to get in where I don't fit, and it was… stupid. I'm a doctor. I don't do stupid. Or at least, I shouldn't." He clapped his hands together, fingers squeezing tightly around his palms as he bowed his head. "You can't always get what you want. I learned that a long time ago." Back to Tony, he reached behind the bar, grabbing the first bottle that grazed his fingers. It was a 24 oz. of cherry bourbon, to which he hummed in soft curiosity. "I'll make it easy for you, Tony. Stick with Potts." The curly-haired man rummaged around for a glass and ice and poured himself a responsible amount.

"Noble as that may be of you, Doctor, I believe the decision must be Tony's." Bruce took a hefty sip of the drink, exhaling a terse chuckle. "It doesn't have to be complicated. I can easily remove the unnecessary factor."

"Hey. I don't have to 'choose' anyone. What just happened was a very… small thing."

"…"

"…"

Right.

He turned and stared blankly at the TV set hovering in front of the far wall. Even he didn't buy it. Hell, there was so much he told himself that he didn't buy. But believing in this lie was just a bit more comfortable than not. His fingers once again rose to his temples, that dreaded headache returning. There was so much to think about. Yet… there shouldn't be. A loud 'clank' from behind caught his attention, to which he saw the doctor's back as he slipped out the door. The now empty glass stood unattended at the bar counter, the room festering with wild emotion. He refused to deal with it alone. Storming after the other, he was surprised to see that he hadn't gone far, footsteps near silent against the expensive dark tile.
Bruce didn't care to run. He didn't even care to argue. Not if it meant more unrest. He almost seemed… serene, his gait fluid and unhurried. His jacket slung over his shoulder, he exhaled quietly through his nose. The storm in his mind had passed, leaving behind a peaceful ruin he'd accepted minutes ago. Tony's iron will pushed him to pursuit. Bruce stopped and turned before he could touch him. "Yes…?"

"That it? Are you leaving now?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you leaving?" The engineer's nostrils flared despite himself, the inquiry much more urgent than he'd outwardly expressed. If he'd spent all this time with Bruce only to still lose him… His hands clasped behind his back, eyes shutting for a few moments. He chose his words carefully. "Look… I was a complete dunce back there. I mean, let's be real… I'm an all-you-can-eat buffet of abandonment issues, alcoholism, and a constant sense of inadequacy. But even knowing all that… I can't seem to get a handle on it." He sighed, one hand tightly grasping the other. "Not alone, at least. We don't have to—I just—I need to know you're not disappearing on me again. Please."

Tony had never been one to beg. His pride wouldn't allow for that. But his voice held a note of softness unfamiliar to the khakied scientist. Such gentle candidness. It'd shaken Bruce, his legs turning to lead. Tony stepped toward the other, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. For a while, he just… looked at him. This man who had occupied his thoughts. This man who was so very much like him, yet so different. Who was, in some ways, better than him. Stronger. And not just physically. Tony needed Bruce.

Doctor Banner swallowed, carefully pulling from his grasp. "No. I'm not leaving. But I'm also not doing… this." He'd shaken the immeasurable weight from his legs, something of sternness hardening his features as he created some distance. "This can't happen again."

"You're right," Tony averted his gaze, "you're a thousand percent right. I just don't know if things can really go back to the way they were."

You and me both, Bruce silently conceded, rocking back and forth on his feet. His fingers twitched for something to grab onto and he stroked the side of his face. "Even if it doesn't, it's leagues better than the other possibility. Stop while you're ahead." To the other's mild perturbance, the physicist offered a smile. It was gentle but not warm, deliberate but not cold. "Goodnight, Tony." Without another utterance he meandered the corner, the eventual ding of the elevator alerting the other of his official exit.

…

10:52 PM

The night was still young, and the now tank-top-donned inventor refused to relent to sleep, though his body screamed for it. He never enjoyed going to bed sorting through a million thoughts. Made for bad REM. And so he returned to his lab to think at his own pace. Green paver lights along the borders of the floor provided meager lumination. At the very center of the room, his armor stood displayed and at the ready, its empty husk an odd comfort of sorts.

"Tell me something, Jarv," he eyed the metal fruit of his labor, his distorted reflection staring back at him in the armor plating. "Am I drifting too far out at sea here?"

There was a considerable pause. "I'm not entirely sure to what you are referring, Sir."

"Ah, never mind. Stupid question." Stark turned the small chip of information he'd procured over and over between his cut-riddled fingers. He'd definitely be making a copy of this. "Big day today."

"Indeed. You've surmounted some major hurdles… and created new ones."

"Very subtle, buddy." He almost felt as if he'd somehow reverted to a younger Tony Stark. A more reckless version of himself… a version whose loyalties lied in no single place. It was as unsettling as it was uncertain. But to then be chastised about it by his longtime friend and creation… it was… actually kinda nice. There was at least one external party he could turn to for a good kick in the ass. He needed to reflect. He needed to make some choices. Jarvis has always been there in such moments. "You also happen upon yesterday night's silly little slipup?"

"Mr. Stark. Must I dignify that with a response?" Tony rolled his eyes. "I'd disregarded it as an act of pure intoxication. I see now that my conclusion was… premature. But you still appear to be searching for some sort of an answer. I will say this: Empirically, the one that seems to make you happiest happens to be two people. Then again, as they say, numbers aren't everything." Stark stopped toying with the chip, setting it atop his workbench. He stared at it for a few short seconds, mind wandering before his own voice brought him back.

"I wanna hear how shitty I've been, Jarv, not how the doctor makes me whole… Tell me I need to get my priorities straight or I'll lose Pepper. Snap me out of it."

"That would be playing into your destructive hand, I'm afraid. You must finally be honest with yourself." Since when did this jumble of programming become a love guru? Tony fought against every word—and yet he had no logical retort. Still, he opened his mouth to speak, and only a yawn came forth.

Damn the mortal body.

"Mm," he ran his hands coolly down his face, "maybe you're onto somethin'. Only thing is…"

"It's a step you must take. Now, Mr. Stark, I believe it is time you sleep." No objections there.

"Yeah… Thanks, Jarvis." The man gazed up gratefully, rolling his stiff shoulder. He could almost see the AI nodding down at him.

"Good night."

The exhausted genius retired to his room and drifted off beside an empty pillow.

…

"Looks like your task was a breeze. I'm not surprised."

"I gather intel in my sleep. It was practically a steal."

Director Fury was handed a small case in which the chip was nestled. Tony had many a time tested his patience, but there wasn't a shadow of a doubt that he'd do what he had to. Eventually. He also couldn't overlook the possibility of the world-class genius commandeering information for his own, personal collection. There were dozens of prepared explanations in place if that were the case. "Still, your lack of urgency for the task leaves much to be desired." The Director's eye narrowed beratingly. "Decades of information, floating around up there unguarded for days. There have been inexplicable disappearances aboard the shuttle, and we believe some 'iffys' slipped through the cracks. For someone who so readily brags of how quickly he can work, you really didn't scramble to get the job done this time around."

"You can stuff the lecture, all due respect." Tony enunciated the last few words in smarmy reply. "I'd like to put a little spin on this conversation by saying I believe some accolades are in order, because frankly, I saved your ass big-time."

Fury huffed almost amusedly. "Frankly, Stark, that's your job."

"Huh. While we're on the subject, you wanna tell me WHY you're sporting a tricked-out shuttle in space?"

Fury raised a brow unaccusingly. "It was time for change. It isn't enough that we've got teams on the surface; we need security based in every possible front. There was, of course, reluctance to send the rest of the fleet after what just happened. That's why I needed a soldier I could trust."

"Except I'm not a soldier." Time and time again he'd disputed that. The 'S' word really rubbed him the wrong way. Its connotation screamed of everything he never wanted to be… another cog in this marching, roaring machine. Pepper's worries concerning him weren't unfounded. But adding to her stresses was as unpleasant as dealing with his own. He cleared his throat, raising his head high. "We done here, Nick?"

"For now, sure. But I'll need you back up there real soon."

…

Some Days Later…

"Pardon my forwardness, but you look… terrible."

"Do I? Hardly noticed." The good doctor deadpanned, hands carefully wrapped around a warm cup of tea. He hadn't worn his usual clothing, grey hoodie devouring his messy head in a rare and graceless fashion. His brown eyes had dimmed, the fog of premature rising adding a few years to his appearance. He once again sat before Isis, watching the trail of steam rise from his beverage. It was… entrancing. He eventually brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. The aroma of sandalwood incense carried through the air, and the outside world's commotion was made irrelevant at the doorway. This was ideal. The dragging silence, however… "Were you not expecting me? I get the feeling that you weren't expecting me."
"Of course I was; you scheduled. I'm just a bit… perplexed." Chin in hand, she thumbed through the small schedule booklet lying on the short-legged table before them, muttering worried somethings under her breath. "Fill me in?" The doctor quietly suggested, stealing another few hearty sips. He didn't savor it.

How could she say this without getting a rise out of him? "I sense something's not right within you. You are—"

"Empty."

Isis blinked, impressed with the man's sudden honesty. "As a matter of fact, yes."

"No, no, I mean my cup. It's nearly empty. I'd like to pour myself some more tea—if it isn't any trouble."

Of course.

"Hm. You're really good at that, you know."

The doctor peeked over the brim of his drink, appearing perplexed himself. "Good at what, exactly…?"

"Being just godawful to yourself." She shook her head, strands of untied hair swaying freely.

The doctor tilted his head. "You should see me when I'm trying." The lilt in his voice should have indicated a dark joke, but it hadn't. "Really, I don't know what you're talking about, Isis. I'm sitting here with you. I'm—drinking tea, which is delicious, by the way. What's 'godawful' about it?"

The lines on the woman's face deepened as she smiled warmly. Her fingers gently moved over his, and he looked up at her. She exuded understanding; it was actually quite intimidating. "You of all people should know that external actions do not equate to what's going on inside."

"Nothing's going on inside."

"Exactly my point. You're empty. You've made yourself empty. But we shall make you whole again—through mindful conversation."

"Um, I don't—"

"It is my turn to speak. Now, I'm going to tell you something I have told no other client: I'm not just your run-of-the-mill trained medium. I'm also an empath." The doctor's eyes widened a tad, gaze respectful. She continued. "I'm sure you know the denotation. But beyond that, I can experience what another has experienced, catching glimpses into his or her future in the process." The woman paused, shoulders visibly lax. "Physical contact heightens my abilities while sleep furthers my reach. It's how I saw you, though you aren't very easy to miss. Over the years, I've learned to work with and accept my abilities… though not without effort." The doctor's momentary quiet was very telling.

"I'm flattered that you'd trust me with this information, but… why tell me at all?"

"People like you need to know they are not alone." This struck a chord within him, and he swallowed back the surprise. Somehow, he needed to hear that. Still, he remained quiet, his clasped hands loosening. "In my earlier years, I was hounded by those who would wish to probe me, use my abilities for their own twisted ambition. It wasn't long before I had trouble distinguishing myself from my powers. Not so different from you, I would say. Because of my traumas, I was very keen on secrecy. But I soon realized just how little that got me."

"Ah. So that's what this is." Bruce nodded almost amusedly, rubbing an eye. "You want to hear about Tony."

"I never said that."

"Then you were implying it." No retort. "There's nothing to say."

Unbelievable. He couldn't see what he was doing to himself. Years and years of being forced to hold his tongue and breathe through the frustration. No doubt second nature by now. "Breathe with me for a moment, Doctor." The older woman positioned herself completely upright, legs folded. Her hands rested on her knees upturned, the table forgotten. "…I can't help but feel you're holding back from me, and it is my job to pull you out of that cyclic rut. Do you understand?" After a few moments, Banner emulated the empath.

Pressing his index fingers to his thumbs, he drew in a deep and slow breath. "You wanna hear the truth?" He exhaled through his mouth, eyes slowly shutting. "Truth is it shouldn't have happened. I got a taste of something genuine, and it was… convincing." He listened to his heartbeat between pauses. "But that feeling… has got to go."

"Why?" Isis asked softly. "I can feel that it reminds you of so many things." His humanity. A reason to keep going. Proof that perhaps he isn't the destructive scar on the earth that his mind makes him out to be. The things going on inside him now were so…bittersweet. High notes danced on low notes, the night of his mind alight with swirls of melancholy. Years of hurt scabbed over his conscience, bending him to comfortably painful repetition. It's what had kept him sane and safe all this time. But this new spring of life in an otherwise deadened heart was hope's harbinger. He fought it so badly. And the question remained. There was a weak chuckle.

"Why?" The man repeated. "I guess my mind has other plans for me."

…

"Bruce. I know you can hear my voice over the comm." Nothing. "You've been a real schmuck lately, you know that?" Still nothing. "I swear, if you go another day without acknowledging me, Brat Banner's gonna be your new name." Silence.

That's it.

The engineer swiped away his speaker screen, ready to go and kick down the doctor's door. It was one thing to lay low for a day, maybe even two. But he'd hardly spoken to the man in almost a week. He made his way to the upper level of the Tower, rounding the rec room and beelining for the doctor's safe space. His door was ajar, the sky's cloudy light spilling into the empty room. The faint aroma of long-burned lavender incense crept out at the genius, and he nudged the door further open. It smelled of regal rumination, the doctor's bed hastily made. Atop the beige pillow was the doctor's phone, abandoned. Clearly, he'd had an itch to have some real "him" time. Ouch. Understandable, but… ouch.

Tony wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, trying not to think much of it. He wasn't Bruce's keeper, after all. But still... The meaningful conversations, the friendly exchanges and genuine assurances… It all stopped like the flip of a switch. Hell, it seemed like he couldn't even pay the doctor to look in his general direction. In a word, it sucked. But maybe it was for the best. Who's to say that this isn't what Banner needs? Who's to say that wasn't what Tony needed? Like his soft-dispositioned counterpart, Stark was very good at pretending. Running away from thoughts was a regimen all its own, and it ate up a lot of his time. But he thought he had finished with his thinking. That the restless nights were over. He stepped into the room, which felt so different from the rest of the Tower. Somehow it was lighter, despite its occupant's very heavy train of thought. "Hm…" Tony hummed mindlessly. He sat at the edge of the bed, brace clicking with the motion.

He remembered the first night he'd brought him here. Bruce exuded a toxicity that had eaten a hole through his mind and heart. How lost he must've felt to truly believe that there was no other way besides… Tony grimaced at the mental image. It wasn't to say the thought hadn't crossed his mind a few times during his life. Trauma and loss can do that to a person. But how utterly bone-chilling it was to be on the outside looking in. Since then, Bruce has smiled for him countless times. Perhaps he couldn't see it, but he'd changed. Without a thought, the engineer laid back against the mattress, fingers interlaced over his naval. Get up, you idiot, he mentally berated himself, but his body refused to move a muscle. He turned his head toward the window, and the brown in his eyes shone gently.

"Knock, knock." Tony quickly lifted his head.

"Peps?" He sat up.

"Yup, it's me." She stood in the doorway, again wearing that unbothered expression on her face. She was dressed in fall colors, sporting a mustard yellow turtleneck that complimented her azure gander. Her black trench coat stopped at the beginning of her calves, dark wash jeans and beige buckle ankle booties completing her look. Eyes window-bound, she clipped in her second, hooped earring, which sparkled with a turn of her head. She finally looked at him. "Just popping in to let you know you can free up your schedule now. Lunch is off."

"Wait, wait, off? I thought lunch every other Thursday was gonna be the new thing."

"Maybe not." Pepper said. She entered the room, leaning in front of the dresser mirror to apply tasteful, maroon lipstick.

"…Babe, if lunch is off, where're you headed?"

"Oh, I was thinking of having a nice day with my old college friend Sandra. Y'know, hit the town, maybe make out with her a little bit? We have a wonderful friendship going on, so I figured I'd seal the deal with a little lip action. Then maybe we'd end the afternoon exchanging loving gazes. I mean, that's sounds fine, right?"

"…You know about…?"

"Of course I know, Tony!" She turned, face muddled with irate disbelief. "How stupid do you think I am?" Miss Potts had seen enough that evening. How badly she'd wanted to kick the door open, grab Tony by the shoulders and ask WHY. But one thing she prided herself on was staying composed. Her strength had been what kept a lot of situations from going south. After all, things were always dodgy with someone as excitable as the doctor in the mix. Everything she held festered until it couldn't anymore.

"I don't think you're stupid." Tony said. His hand brushed down his face, a near-defeated sigh sinking his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I just… can't even begin to explain—"

"Try me." Pepper wasn't about to waver.

He threw his hands up in surrender, standing. "I don't know why I kissed him. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did, and I regret it. But it's not about me right now, and you—"

"Jesus, Tony, it wasn't JUST the kiss!" That evening, something shone in Tony's eyes for Bruce, a something once reserved for her and her alone. She should have picked up hints at the beginning of Bruce's stay. While she reached, Tony drifted further away. Gravitated toward that mess of a man. Though he gave her his time, it was never done with the same commitment. It made sense now, what she was feeling then. She scoffed, moving her hands to her hips.

Why? Why Doctor Banner?

"I waited to see how long it'd take for you to come clean and you never did. You STILL can't do it, even to my face! Why won't you just admit it?"

"Admit what, Pepper?"

"That you love him!" She really had to spell it out for him. The words singed her tongue as they passed her lips. But it was the truth. Tony's lack of response said it all. She drew in a trembling breath, angry tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Honestly? I think I'd feel less betrayed if you were off snooping with some younger, prettier version of me. But Bruce? How… could you trade me in… for him?"

A/N: Hey, hey! This has been Chapter 11. Hella long and hella fun to write. Hope you enjoyed, and Happy Holidays!