AN: Hello, readers! I know it's been a couple of months, and I am sorry. But, to make up for that, here's two chapters to read back to back! I just wanted to give a shout out to those who've been here from the beginning, or those who've just dropped by for a visit. It really means a lot. I've read all the reviews, seen all the positive feedback, and I'm giddy with appreciation! Enjoy!
Ch. 14: Apart
An exhausted Tony leaned against the walls of the building foyer, having dealt with the last of the ravenous reporters. They'd get their grimy hands on anything that even hinted at being a story, and the Hulk's return was everyone's big break. There were a ton of questions he couldn't even answer.
Was Hulk returning to the Avengers?
What got under the unstoppable monster's skin?
Not a clue. And without Bruce there to defend himself, people made their own, fearful conclusions about what happened. "He went rogue." "He's still out there, god knows where, rampaging." The property damage didn't help. It'd take some time to get everything spick and span again. No doubt headlines would be raving about this for weeks. Joy.
"Well, Fury, you meant what you said." He rolled his shaded eyes, about ready to collapse. "Taxing" wasn't even the word to describe all this. But if it meant the press wouldn't be up Bruce's ass, then it was well worth it. He wondered now how he was doing. Hopefully broke the fever. Hopefully… in a good mental place. At least they had a little chat before he flew back. It had been a little over 20 hours since then, 4 in the afternoon. The engineer pushed himself off the wall, beelining for the elevator when dear old Jarv stopped him.
"Mr. Stark, there is an 'Isis' outside demanding that she see you."
"Well tell her her demands can't be met right now. I've handfed every stray journalist within a 10-mile radius."
"But Sir… she isn't a reporter."
Stark rolled his eyes. "That's riveting."
There was a pause. "She says Bruce has been going to see her."
Saying nothing, Tony pulled his phone from his back pocket, tapping a modified icon. The device was now linked to the security camera outside, and an older woman was seen looking around impatiently. Her greyed locks fell freely beneath her hat, strands caressing her urgent expression in the pushing winds. She wasn't supposed to be here; caution tape was stretched around the area. "Mm." So she was the helpful empath Banner was talking about. He lowered the phone with half a mind to just leave her there, but then he reconsidered. He activated the mic. "Hi there. What do you want?"
"Mr. Stark?" The woman glanced around before leaning in closer. "My name is Isis. Isis Whittaya. What happened is my fault. I need to clear the air. Please."
Stark remained silent longer than was necessary, watching her anxiety grow before finally unlocking the entrance door. There was an indicative buzz and click. Isis strode in graciously. "Thank you." Her smoky gaze took in the refined interior with brief awe. She breathed in the scent of waxed flooring and notes of Hawaiian Breeze… The high and functional ceilings gleamed in fluorescence, and it all was beautiful and alluring… but it wasn't why she was here. The genius billionaire greeted her tepidly, brows arched high.
"Okay, Isis, you're in. Frankly, I'm very tired and very agitated and very concerned, so… you know."
The woman held onto her bracelets, seemingly for comfort. "I do know." Eyes turned downward, she drew in a silent breath. "Bruce has been actively searching for ways to heal himself, which eventually led him to me. …He has told you of me, yes?"
"Just yesterday, yeah."
Isis sighed, relieved. Yesterday. "That means he's alright."
"'Alright' is… a very loose term." Tony folded his arms defensively. "What else you got?"
Stark wasn't the least bit moved. It was basic information, after all. But not all things could properly be expressed through words. Her petite hands raised, hovering on either side of his head. "May I?" It was going to take a few days of meditation to filter out the doctor's emotional essence from her own, and she had quite a bit to share.
Alarm flashed in his eyes, but he steeled himself and clenched his jaw. If this is what she did to Banner, he wanted to know.
"Alright."
She gently cupped his face. "Know him."
It was only for a few short seconds, but so much came so fast. Joys and miseries, hopes, wishes, and bitter, forged realities. This was Banner's sweet pain. It ebbed and flowed, pricked like thorns into Tony's heart yet enveloped it in warmth. It was saccharin-acerbic, mourning intertwined with love. Fear hovered persistently like a vulture over these things, opportunistic and hungry. Trauma was its bigger, badder cousin, just a little closer to the kill. But hope climbed inside him, tattered and frayed at the ends though resilient all the same. That was strength. And it was held for a few people… but for Tony especially. There was confusion and fear around that, a perturbing little everything that trounced his mind every so often. But curiosity rose from it… a desire to step away from hurt.
Stark's heart pounded, his pupils dilated. He understood more now than he ever did before. All this in a moment's time.
Isis released her hold. She averted her gaze as he gasped, finding himself in this here and now moment once again. "...I-I—how…?" He stammered out. How could he have missed so much?
"What you felt was a sample of what I've gathered. I attempted to find the root of Bruce's pain and I pushed too far. The horror of watching your own mother get… No child should have to go through that." The woman shook her head, sickening pangs of panic striking through her chest. "He's about the most complex man I've ever come across. He's hurt, yet he's near indestructible. He smiles in his agony and bleeds through his delights. I'm sure you're aware, but he's trying hard to fight his darkness. And I think with you… he's winning that battle. Please don't let go of him. Especially not now."
"That's not happening." Tony was still very much processing this new information, soaring and sinking inside. His eyes met hers. "There're 8 million people in this city. You could've worked your magic on any one of them. So why him?"
"Because I've always wanted a crack at the notorious David Bruce Banner." She admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. There was shame in her tone, but her sad smile masked it to some degree. "You don't think word of someone like that gets around? It spread like wildfire. I was in South Africa when I first heard of him. All that anger and frustration just… radiated out of him through the television set. I was intrigued, and I thought that was all I'd ever be… at least, until I moved here. Admittedly, I've grown overconfident in my abilities; I was so sure I could be the one to get the first real look at a mind like that. To save him. But what I've seen… it hurts me." Bowing her head, she covered her mouth, quietly exclaiming something in another language.
Tony stared in silence, swallowing. So he'd been little more than a plaything to her, like a torn doll she just had to fix. It was selfish and righteous all at once. Something about that seemed awfully familiar. But now, remorse carried a weight in the air, and he could feel it. Whatever she saw made her have a change of heart. "So you've seen as well as felt what he's gone through… that doesn't quite match up with the definition of an empath."
"Yes. I have very, very minor telepathic abilities. They allow me into the memories of my clients, but nothing more. I cannot read minds, only feelings. Therefore, I see it only as something that magnifies my empathic prowess. For example, Mr. Stark, I see you have your own buried pain." The observation was unwanted, but she pushed just a tad more. "You deal with it a bit differently. In a way others cannot see. In a way perhaps you believe you cannot change. But I'm not here to pull teeth. I am curious, however," her voice lowered a tad, and her eyes narrowed softly. "In all this, did Bruce share that I predicted your… coupling?"
"Ahhm—?"
"—Hello, there." It was Pepper. She looked rather cozy, donning a dark tank top and baggy pajama pants. A small cup of ice cream was held in one hand, a filled spoon in the other. She took a bite.
"Oh… Hello… Ms. Potts."
"Wonderful, so you DO know who I am."
"In essence, yes. I'm sorry to impede—"
"—No you're not. But I'll be damned if I'm not a good hostess. Stay a while. I bet these last two days've been a drag. How about some brunch?" Taking another gratuitous spoonful, the woman offered a contemptuous smile. Isis nearly shuddered. The angry fumes emanating from this one were potent enough to create another Hulk. Tony glanced between the two, deciding he couldn't gawk any longer.
"Actually, Peps, she was just leaving. Don't worry yourself."
"Not worrying." Potts corrected. She sauntered up to Tony and hooked her arms around the back of his neck in an odd embrace, eyeing the empath. "I insist, actually." Another spoonful of the confection went into her mouth, and the coldness of the container kissed Stark's shoulder.
"Hon…" Tony gently placed a hand on her back, and almost immediately she pulled from him. Instead, she sidestepped her questionable boyfriend and stood before the elusive woman.
"I want to understand some things. What makes you think you can puppeteer the lives of strangers? At some point, it weighs on the conscience, no?" The inquiry nearly elicited a chortle from the empath. How presumptuous. The woman, however, was very good at remaining emotionally detached, if she so desired. It was practically a requirement, all things considered. Right now, Miss Potts was charged and insecure, and it would only be foolish to take that bait.
"I'm… sorry you see it that way, darling."
"Well maybe you can flip my perspective over some chilaquiles. Or do you prefer casserole?"
Tony placed a hand on Pepper's shoulder and received a harsh glare. "Look, Peps, let's not prolong the uncomfortable. It's extremely un-fun. And I'm pretty sure Isis doesn't want any brunch."
"Oh, she WANTS some brunch. And I want some answers!"
"Ah, yes. Leaving now." Isis took the opportunity to slip out the door, the pair's bickering continuing uninterrupted. She wasn't very much one for conflict, and she'd already said her words. She laid bare the truth. The rest was up to them, respectfully so. Small shards of glass crunched beneath her heel, remnants of her mistake. She had insurance on her business and property, so it wasn't much of a concern. Still, that proved the flaw of her power: it was unpredictable at times. Emotion is a volatile force all on its own, but couple it with unpleasantries of the past, mental hurdles, or pure circumstance…
Predicting the future was an even higher gamble. Prevising emotions and events yet to come often bore no better fruit than watching it all transpire in real time. People make unforeseeable choices in the moment. Joy can beget fear. Love can beget denial. And so, things turned out less than pretty here. But despite everything, Banner remained something beautiful. He wanted to help others, though others hurt him. He wanted no one to worry for him, though he often worried for others. Only a person like him could shoulder the burdened blessing of his other half.
And right now, only one person could give him what he needed… if he let him.
"Oh, my…" Isis gazed up at the building-crowded sky, unable to help the smile spreading on her face as she suddenly realized something:
She just spoke to Tony Stark.
Indeed, he oozed a unique charm much spoken of, and hid a shadow self that went pallid beneath his good deeds. He was three men, rolled into one, a smorgasbord of potential beyond his wretched, beautiful mistakes. It made her curious and fascinated… a little bit giddy. It wasn't everyday she got to catch a glimpse of the world of Mr. Stark.
Her childlike giggles were easily drowned out by the sounds of fervent construction.
"Miss, what're ya doin' here? This area is off limits!"
Right.
…
A needle was pulled from an arm. Minutes passed, steadily.
Stir.
Stir.
Awake.
A drowsy Doctor Banner slowly opened his brown eyes, no longer dizzy and hot.
An extended rest was induced intravenously by a SHIELD-associated doctor. Said doctor departed once Bruce began to come around, per unanimous request; it would be less stressful, per past experiences. He ran his hand down his face, slowly remembering where he was, and what happened. So sluggish.
"Easy. Welcome back, Bruce." Chimed a voice off to the side. That wasn't Tony. It wasn't Director Fury, and it definitely wasn't Jarvis. He lowered his hand and propped himself up.
"Mn… Steve?"
"Not just him." A large, strong hand clasped onto his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.
Thor. And Clint. And Natasha, too. But this was no mission. No end-of-the-world circumstance. They bore their company in approachable attire, their friendly gazes all trained on him. Natasha leaned in for a hug, and he slowly brought his arms around her, in utter shock. "What're you all… doing here?"
"Whoa, no hellos, heys, or happy-to-see-yous?" The skilled archer leaned in. There was, as ever, a mischievous though charming gleam in his eye, as if he were waiting for the perfect moment to crack a joke. "It's been a while, don't ya think?"
Bruce shrank. "…It… it has… Where am I?"
"A surveillance base in the outskirts of Ohio." Clint hummed, taking a glance at himself in the placed mirror. "They didn't tell you?"
He was closer than he thought. "No." Happiness dared blossom inside him, though he remained cautious, ashamed. "I didn't think… I'm—" He was interrupted by a coughing fit, suddenly made aware of his parched throat.
The level-headed Captain handed him the cup of water waiting at his bedside. "We know." The doctor gingerly took it, chugging it down eagerly. With a shaky sigh, he paused, taking in the surreal moment. He'd wanted to see them all ages ago, but no time seemed right. In fact, the weight of his thoughts now locked his jaw, and he knew not what to say. His palm gently wiped at his welling eyes.
"Whatever you're worried about, Bruce, don't be. We're glad to see you." Natasha smiled warmly at the physicist. It faltered for only a moment, and her brow twitched with subtle curiosity. "You look terrible, by the way."
"So I've been hearing…" Though he jested, there was a quiver in his voice. His fingers pushed through his moppy curls. "But you all look great. I was getting a little tired of hearing about you through word of mouth."
"So why the big leave, then?" Clint asked bluntly. Everyone was thinking it, and everyone wanted a valid explanation. They deserved it.
The doctor nursed his cup a few seconds more before setting it aside. His friends cleared the way as he stood, stretching his cramped muscles and limbs. They were hard pressed, yet he seemed to take his time. With a satisfied sigh, he glanced around at their expectant faces, buttoning up his crinkled shirt. "All those years learning to coexist with my inner monster, only to turn around and screw up in such a big way. Why would you think I'd want to stay?"
"It was a mistake," Thor tried. "We all make those. Had you been in the right mind—"
"—Uh-uh." Bruce shook his head. "I'm taking onus; it was my choice. I chose to ignore the red flags to feed this… high of having a greater ‑purpose." His earthy eyes stared down at his palms, lines creasing around his mouth and chin. "That high was too good." He focused his attention on the Captain, one of the most grounded people he knew. Roger's strength and integrity was the glue to this whole thing, a constant one could always count on. "Hulk was taking me over and I was too inconsiderate to let it be known. I didn't want to be weak. I couldn't anymore."
Everything he didn't want to do, he'd ended up doing. Everything he didn't want to be, he'd ended up being. His greatest failure? He couldn't keep the promises he made to himself.
"You forget, Banner. We know you well, and you are anything but weak. Why, you're almost as strong as me!" Odinson jabbed, at which the doctor gave a wilted smile. It wouldn't be very human not to feel remorse. As much as it ached, he couldn't wish it away. And with his recent progress, perhaps that wasn't such a tragedy anymore.
"Thor's right." Steve stepped into the foreground. "Well, I'm not sure about that second part, but… All that's water under the bridge now. The real mystery is what made you come back? We all know who, and you could've easily refused. What was it?"
"Good question." The doctor nodded thoughtfully, meeting the soldier's sterling gaze. In his neurotic fashion, he wrung his hands, and he thought deeply about his answer. "Perhaps deep down… I didn't want to die that night." No one said anything. Tony's forgiveness was something he never thought he'd receive, much less deserve. His constant vocal protests veiled the endless, silent gratitude he would have otherwise felt. It only grew harder to leave as things got more… complicated. He thought back to those things he said to Stark. His epiphany. The moment. The almost foreign warmth of its mutuality. He swallowed, and he quickly wondered what the others could gather from his unguarded visage. "…Sorry, everyone, but I really, really, really would like to find a shower."
"Bath's three doors down to the left, the nurse said." Barton offered. "Meet us at the café on the ground floor. We'll have lunch."
…
A good 40 minutes had passed and the doctor was cleansed, refreshed, and donning crisp, new clothes. He toweled his damp curls the best he could, and after brushing his teeth, he got a good look in the mirror. He looked better. Felt better. And also hungry. His glasses were plucked from the sink and clipped onto his shirt pocket.
Signs plastered to the walls guided him through the building. It was chilly and quiet and lifeless. People were tucked away in their offices maintaining communication or surveying airspace. Cameras lined the halls, however, and he stared into them boldly. Just where was this facility stationed? And why was everything so hush-hush? There would at least be a few agents sprinkled about the corridors, rushing to their respective posts. At least some lighthearted chatter or talk of the day's tasks. But there was none of that. Perhaps they were ordered to avoid him. That wasn't… disagreeable. He rolled his neck and sighed, making the hard choice to ignore it all. He approached the cafeteria. The familiar group was spotted sitting off to the left once he strode in. "Well, I took longer than I…" he trailed off, raising a brow as the four Avengers ceased their chitchat. It was obvious he was the subject of conversation, though they each greeted him with bright eyes. "Ahem. Hi."
Not long after, they were piling their trays with what the café had to offer. The atmosphere was heavy and abrasive, though there seemed to be an attempt at covering that up.
"Something I miss?" Banner asked lightly, taking his seat at the table. The others joined him one by one.
"Bruce," Natasha started gently, cautiously, "how have you been, living with him?"
"Yeah. Tony Smartass thought it wasn't important to maybe clue us in on that." Clint eyed the gratuitous portion of bacon atop his plate, deciding which to pluck first.
Bruce chuckled between bites. "Tony Smartass. I'll have to use that." He looked up to see the archer's expectant and hardly amused face. "…Odds are he kept quiet for my sake. I was in a deep fog; anything could've scared me off again." His gander returned to his plate as he cute slowly and gently. "But I've been doing better. A lot better."
Natasha observed every nuance on her dear friend's face, but only for a few nonthreatening seconds. There was an unusual softness in his eyes. And the way his fingers fidgeted over the table. The upturned corners of his lips. What he said was the truth. "It's good to have you back. There's been a hole in the team since you left."
Banner gave a gentle nod of apology and understanding. "It's good to be back." His wanton vagary afforded him nothing but the sorrows to hollow out his heart. It was so… old. So unpleasant and sticky as if it needed him. So bountiful in irrationality. He believed in it; it was easy to. But among friends, his willpower didn't have to come only from himself. "I can't lie—all those long months spent running—it was exhausting. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. Couldn't… be. Tony did for me what I couldn't do for myself." His knife spread cream cheese over his bagel, the smooth blade going round and round the toasted surface for far too long. "Perhaps I wouldn't be climbing this ladder again if I'd stayed put. But that's just what I'm meant to do, I think."
Rogers took hold of the conversation, thoroughly unsettled. "There's more than one way to run, you know."
The doctor blinked and his unseeing eyes realized how long he'd been fretting over the food in his hand. "I do know. I'm the self-appointed expert on that, Cap." Setting the knife down, he took a bite, giving a satisfied hum. "You do realize how painfully obvious it is, right? That this is a toned-down questioning?"
"We need to know what's been going on."
"So I'm stuck here 'til that happens?"
The group said nothing. Bruce tapped on his knee in quiet agitation. Something in him rose, then settled once more, like a drowsed beast. He was doing it again. "…Sorry." He took a sip of his cold drink and sighed.
Beneath everyone's gladness was an anger that could only be quelled by the doctor's word… and Tony's immediate ass-kicking. Fury notified the group almost immediately after Banner's impromptu arrival. It was an agreeable means to a necessary end: get him to open up to those he deeply trusted, and in the process get some context to these last few, silent months. The question of Banner's stability was still up in the air, and until he'd proven he was no longer a threat to himself or others, he couldn't leave. Tony's approval or disapproval meant nothing now; he'd been willing to endanger the city of New York for a reason that would never be good enough.
"Unfortunately, it isn't up to us," The Captain spoke up. "Had it been, you'd be out of here the moment we cleared our plates. The way you left last time… We need to make sure things are different now."
The doctor laced his fingers over the white tabletop. "That's fair."
It took a while, but after Fury talked Hulk down, Banner was back, face-to-bloodied-face with what he'd ended up doing that day. He watched an unconscious Tony be airlifted to the nearest infirmary. He forced himself to stay close by, under the crushing weight of his own guilt, and make sure Tony's eyes opened again. He agonized over his hospital bed, whispering apologies to him, his teammates, and especially Pepper. And then finally, he disappeared. It was a self-inflicted punishment, a deep-seated woe that even Hulk couldn't rise above… not for a while. It was what saved Banner, and what hurt him.
Bzzzzt.
Bzzzzt.
Romanov's vibrating cell snapped everyone back. She pulled it from her inner jacket pocket, thin brow raising at the screen. "It's Tony." She tapped "Answer", laying the phone down for everyone to hear. "He lives."
"Forever and always. So do you wanna kill me or what?"
"Definitely," Clint chimed from across the table.
Natasha smirked. "A little. What you did was stupid and underhanded... but we're glad to see him."
There was a short pause on the other end. "How is he?"
"Ask him yourself." She eyed the physicist, nudging the cell a little closer. No, no, no, he mentally pleaded. He didn't have the energy to pretend everything was the same between them. But eyes were on him, and pretend he surely would. He took Widow's phone awkwardly in his hand, swallowing quietly.
"Tony."
"Bruce."