12. Swan Song
Bruce was ignoring Natasha's texts.
She knew he'd gotten them, because she was watching through the lecture hall door and saw him falter mid-sentence and touch his pocket when his phone vibrated. Twice. Neither time did he take it out, not even just a fraction to check who the text was from. Just went on with the lecture as if he'd barely registered the alerts.
Actually, it appeared less a lecture than a discussion. Hitching her duffle bag up her shoulder, she peered through the window slit at the dozen grad students who'd arranged their seats in a semicircle, while Bruce leaned back against the professor's desk. If not for the 3D models projected behind him, Natasha might have thought he was simply carrying on casual conversation about whatever blockbuster had hit theaters last weekend, he appeared that relaxed. Well-as relaxed as a person could be who fidgeted constantly, pushing up or pulling off his glasses, playing with the back of his hair. Nervous tics aside, Bruce truly looked as rested as she'd seen him in all the years since she was first assigned to tail him at Culver, including during the honeymoon stage of their relationship.
Confronting Brian had shattered him. He'd been keyed up walking out of the Lima State Hospital after the visit, but conked out before the car passed through the gates, slept all the way to Aunt Susan's, and remained half-unconscious as Natasha hauled him upstairs to his bedroom. It hadn't been unlike the bone-deep exhaustion that followed Hulking out, except that when he slept straight through to the next morning, he woke more than recovered. He was energized. Free of the weight he'd carried for so long, which everyone had always assumed was the Hulk. Unlike at Christmas, he no longer seemed to feel caged in the house that contained so many trappings of his childhood.
"Is he…gone?" Natasha had asked as he shoveled his aunt's sidewalk and driveway, the neighbor kids who'd helped over the holiday back in school.
"No, but he's quiet. Not as close to the surface, if that makes any sense. Like he decided I can take care of myself."
"The beta male submitting to the alpha?"
Bruce had flushed at that, but said, "Yeah, actually. Maybe."
"Maybe we should test that in the field."
He hadn't disagreed.
A buzz at Natasha's wrist dragged her attention briefly to her watch, which flashed with a text from Steve: ETA 15 min. She didn't have time to dawdle, but she still hesitated to knock on the lecture hall door. Bruce's semester had gotten off to a rough start, between conducting his lectures remotely, or while babysitting, or missing them altogether when they went to Ohio, and she hated to interrupt yet one more. Another part of her simply enjoyed the opportunity to watch him teach. She'd seen him in the lab, engrossed in research projects, but the classroom was a new context.
Lecturing had never been his favorite part of academia, he'd told her back when they first began to talk seriously about what life after the Avengers might look like for them. He hadn't hated it, but in his Harvard and Culver days, he'd always vaguely resented anything that took him from the lab, from his research, and he'd been impatient with the students at times. Since the accident, teaching held a new appeal: it was quiet, for one thing; like doctoring, it provided an opportunity to do good, by sharing his knowledge-and warning about the consequences of unchecked curiosity. Although even with the perspective of age and experience, grading midterms and final exams still made him grumpy.
At the moment, subatomic particles weren't the only part of this physics seminar that qualified as high energy. Bruce's grin widened, hand gestures grew increasingly animated, clearly getting more out of this lecture than public service. He called on a student, and Natasha's own smile stretched as she watched him lean back against the desk, head tilted to listen, the university environment giving way to the image of him at home, helping with homework at the kitchen table.
She dragged her eyes from him to the half-circle of students, not quite as young as the kids in her daydream, but kids nonetheless. Younger than she'd ever been. All of them looking star-struck, or half in love. Like the girl currently talking, who kept fiddling with her necklace with coy flicks of her manicured fingertips.
Natasha's smile fell as she noticed the girl was wearing a Black Widow t-shirt. Should she be flattered, or…something else?
A pair of eyes met hers through the glass, and the student beside the girl in the Black Widow shirt put up one hand, pointed to the door with the other. Bruce looked to the door, brow furrowed, face relaxing again as Natasha gave him a little wave. She read his lips as he pushed off the desk: Excuse me for a moment.
He only opened the door far enough to squeeze through and step out into the hall, but before he shut it again she caught their whispers. That's Romanoff…Black Widow!...Do you think she noticed my shirt?
"How long have you been standing there?" asked Bruce, his hand on her elbow drawing her just out of sight of the window in the door.
"Only a few minutes. I hate to interrupt yet another class, but-"
"You got the call?"
"I got the call."
In the bright light of the hall, she saw the flicker across Bruce's face. She got the call. Not him.
"New York City," she elaborated. "Team's swinging by to pick me up."
"And me."
Natasha patted the duffel bag. "That's why I brought your stretchy pants."
"I adore you." Bruce pulled her in for a quick kiss, drawing the bag off her shoulder to carry it for her.
"Cute as your ass is…" Natasha gave it a discreet squeeze. "…I prefer not to share it with the world." She added, lower, with a glance at the door, "Or with all the coeds crushing on you."
"They're not crushing on me," he protested, without much conviction. "Better tell them class is dismissed…Really going for Professor of the Year here, with the attendance…."
No one minded-at least that was the only conclusion to draw from their eager questions about whether the Avengers had another mission.
"Yes, and I promise, this will be my last one…"
Natasha side-stepped him in the doorway, zeroed in on the girl in the Black Widow tee.
"Nice shirt," she said. The girl had wondered if she'd noticed, after all. "Widow your favorite Avenger? I hear she's Dr. Banner's, too."
The roar of approaching jet engines greeted them as they made their way out of the Physical Sciences Building, followed by Bruce's grad students, and stepped outside just as it touched down on the snowy Arts Quad.
"Oh, the dean isn't gonna be happy about this…" he commented as they stepped off the curb to cross the street, staggering a little in a snowdrift. They hadn't taken the time to stop by his office to get his snow boots or his coat, and he shivered in only his suit jacket, his socks damp.
"Someone else isn't, either," Natasha said.
He knew she meant Cap, who'd benched him after Houston-and rightly so. However, when they clambered aboard the quinjet, recorded by students' smart phones, it was Thor who greeted Bruce with a thunderous expression.
"Now it's I who owe you, Stark," he boomed, throwing a glance over his shoulder toward the cockpit. "Banner did shave."
"I know my Science Bro like I know myself!" Tony's voice drifted back to the hold.
Bruce looked up from the sludge he'd tracked in to Natasha, who was smirking. She'd called it. Honestly, they were so damn predictable. He should've bet actual money on this, to put toward the kids' college tuitions.
"Tony," he called, "you're the least self-aware person I've ever met."
"Wait, you're here?" Tony emerged from the cockpit. "I just thought Romanoff showed Thor a picture." He stopped almost toe-to-toe with Bruce, chin raised as if to make himself a taller as he sized him up. "Nice of you to come see us off. I'd give those baby smooth cheeks a goodbye kiss, but. You owe me an apology."
Although Bruce did regret the way he'd acted the last time they'd seen each other, he suspected Tony wasn't deeply wounded as much as he enjoyed playing the martyr.
Before he could apologize Cap, who'd been silent up till now, surprised by Bruce's presence, spoke up. "Far be it from me to come between friends-"
"Really?" Tony's gaze flickered over Bruce's shoulder. "Far be it from you?"
The muscles in Cap's jaw flexed as impressively as the rest of them did. "Zodiac's taking New York City hostage, one neighborhood at a time. Can you two hash this out after we get back?"
"Can't we just let them have Hell's Kitchen?" Tony asked. "It's nobody's loss, and Matty and the Defenders-Striptease!" he interrupted himself as Bruce shrugged off his jacket, shucked it onto a seat, then set to work loosening his tie. Flopping on the seat with the discarded sportcoat, Tony hooked his fingers behind his head and waggled his eyebrows. "Now this is my kind of apology-slash-send-off."
"It's not an apology," Bruce said, tugging the tie free of his collar. "Or a send-off."
Natasha punched the control to close the bay doors, to the dismay of the crowd of students and faculty. Cap looked at her, eyebrows high on his forehead. "This is why you wanted us to pick you up on campus. So you could recruit Banner for the mission."
"We could use him."
"We could." Cap's words were agreeable, but his tone was the opposite. "If he wasn't too volatile."
"I'm not."
Bruce stood beside her, facing Cap. It wasn't the first time he'd voiced disagreement with him, but he dispensed with being deferential. Steve Rogers wasn't the most intimidating person he'd stood up to that week.
"This won't be a repeat of Houston," he said. "I brought baggage with me that day. Today it's just me and Hulk."
"Um," Tony said, "I hate to diminish that by pointing this out, but…you brought an actual duffel bag."
Bruce kept his gaze trained on Cap, saw his resolve starting to crumble.
"We didn't plan for Hulk," he said.
"When have we ever stuck with a plan?"
Natasha's question eroded Cap's determination a little more. Something like a grin started to form at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head.
"I concur," Thor boomed.
"You trust him?" Cap asked. "You're the one who had to track him down through the bayou last time and bring him around."
The back of Bruce's neck prickled with the reminder of Thor half-carrying him wrapped in his cape.
Thor looked as if this was the most obvious thing in the Nine Realms. "That Natasha trusts him is enough for me."
Catching Bruce's eye, she said, "It's not my trust that should convince you all. It's that Bruce trusts himself."
The quinjet had never been more completely silent than it was now, as the point sank in. Even Tony went wordlessly back to the cockpit.
"So," Bruce said, shouldering the duffle bag, then jerking his thumb toward the lavatory, "I'm gonna go change. Then you can tell me what you need smashed."
Ideally, nothing needed to be smashed, though the gold-plated rubble at Hulk's feet attested to the fact that reality was quite a different thing. The dust from the Statue of Liberty's fallen torch was still settling around him, powdering his skin and hair and apparently his nasal passages, given his succession of gale force sneezes.
"Gesundheit," called Natasha from nearby, where she pinned a moaning Zodiac henchman to the ground with a knee between his shoulder blades.
Hulk's head swung her way, and he grunted, maybe in thanks, maybe not. For a moment he stared at her, the brilliant green of his eyes muddied with brown, reflecting the shimmering grid that enclosed Liberty Island like a spider's web glistening with beads of morning dew. That was the work of Leo Fitz, adapted on a nanoscale from Nova Corps tech to contain the weaponized Zodiac Key and create an arena where the Avengers could fight Taurus, aka Cornelius van Lunt.
A sizzling sound drew his gaze, and Natasha followed it over her shoulder just in time to see the lights glitz out.
"It's okay, Big Guy," she said, "just SHIELD lowering the barrier."
He snorted, either in response to SHIELD, or still affected by the dust, the rumble in his chest mingling with the hum of helicopter blades. The choppers descended through the low winter clouds, and agents in tactical gear rappelled down onto the island.
Natashakept an eye on Hulk as the SHIELD agents rattled past, armed and armored, saw his calf muscles flex, fingers fist, battle-ready should anyone turn on him.
"They're just here for Zodiac," she reassured, getting up to transfer custody to an agent who fitted her prisoner with cuffs.
Dusting off her hands, she approached Hulk, slowly. "Our job's done."
His crooked grin started to pull, only to disappear again as he shuffled backward. "No lullaby."
Her hand froze, suspended in the air where she'd reached out to him. She'd encouraged Bruce's wish to go on one last mission, in small part to test his control, in larger to be sure she was on good terms with both of them. Somehow, she hadn't truly believed Hulk wouldn't be.
Or maybe it wasn't that at all. Maybe Hulk was just wary of SHIELD.
"I agree, no lullaby just yet." Phil Coulson strode up, the sleeves of the white dress shirt he wore beneath his Kevlar vest rolled up to his elbows. "Seems like Bruce is the one who always gets to attend the after parties."
If by attend the after parties he meant deal with the fallout, Natasha thought, raising an eyebrow at Coulson.
"It's only fair that Hulk should get to bask in the glow of victory every now and then," he added.
Hulk stood up straighter, barrel chest puffing, clearly pleased with Coulson's idea. It was nicely done, and she was touched that he was looking out for her. He understood better than anyone what was going on between her and Hulk, since she'd confided in him about her communication breakdown with Bruce.
"Fine work today," Coulson said. "Both of you. Van Lunt's in SHIELD custody, and we've secured the Ankh. Now it's only a simple matter of tracking down the rest of the Zodiac Cartel and restoring the GM building to Detroit."
"Stark will ask whether that's really worth the effort," Natasha remarked, and his eyes crinkled in a wry expression that told her Stark already had.
"Most importantly," he went on, "thanks to Agent Fitz's literal shield, we were able to do all of that with no civilian casualties and minimal damage."
His gaze dropped to the rubble at the base of the statue.
"Sorry," Hulk muttered, toeing at a broken hunk of steel.
"No need to apologize. We'll blame the bad guy who used it as a staging ground for teleporting New York to another dimension. Not a very original location to launch a hostile takeover. It's like van Lunt watched too many superhero movies."
Natasha chuckled, not at the joke but at van Lunt's scowl as he overheard it while two burly agents frog-marched him past. His ridiculous costume, though, made it impossible for her resist a pun of her own.
"How's that for taking the bull by the horns?"
Hulk huffed out a laugh, the lines of his massive green face pulling into the same expression that crossed Bruce's when she made goofy jokes.
"Anyway," Coulson said, "that was probably the easiest mission we've ever had. Well, maybe not easy. Smoothest sailing. From Jones' intel on van Lunt, to SHIELD getting the barrier in place so you guys could go nuts."
"You sound disappointed," Natasha said.
Coulson looked amused. "I'm really not. Just in unfamiliar territory. What do you do after a major operation when there's not an avalanche of paperwork?"
"Good time to retire."
"Mm." Coulson slipped his hands into his pockets, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Audrey would like that."
His phone rang, and he slipped it out of his pocket, stepping off to take the call, leaving Natasha alone with Hulk once more.
"Are you still angry with me?" she blurted out.
If she'd learned anything in the past few weeks, it was that it was better to get it out there than to wonder.
His grin fell, brown flecks all but disappeared from his irises. "Widow go behind puny Bruce's back. But…" He puffed out a breath which rustled her hair as he shuffled closer to her, the pad of his finger rough through her sleeve as he stroked her forearm. "Bruce forgive. Hulk forgive Tasha, too."
She started to thank him, but her throat closed up. Even if her own emotion hadn't gotten the better of her, the contemplative look on his face would have silenced her.
"Bruce not so puny anymore. Bruce grow."
"Yeah." Natasha choked out, nodding in agreement. "Bruce grew a lot."
"When need Hulk again?"
He lifted watery eyes to her. That was why he hadn't been ready for a lullaby. He wasn't ready to go away, because he didn't know when he'd be back. For all Bruce had struggled against Hulk, wanted nothing but to be free of him, the prospect of not seeing him for the foreseeable made Natasha sad, too.
"I don't know, Big Guy."
After a moment's hesitation, she reached up, and his arms went around her, lifting her into a hug that made her feel like a ragdoll.
As he was setting her down on the ground again, Coulson rejoined them, pocketing his phone.
"That was the Secretary General of the UN. She wants to give you all medals."
"Hulk want shiny medal."
"I told her to make one super-sized."
Nearby, a photographer snapped a picture of the three of them. Hulk wheeled around, and the wide-eyed man visibly shook in his boots.
"Um, sorry, I'm with the Bulletin…If you'd rather I don't take your pic-"
"Take again. Hulk not smiling in first one."
The photographer's sigh of relief was evident, but he said, "Um, it's okay…I just wanted a candid-"
"Hulk. Smile." He bared his teeth in an expression that was more grimace than grin, and Natasha's stomach cramped from the effort of containing her laughter as he pulled her and Coulson in for a group portrait.
"Okay." The photographer complied, and had barely let the flash fade before he scurried away with a "Thank you."
"Wait," Hulk called. "Banner's turn."
The next thing Natasha knew, Bruce was sagging between her and Coulson.
"What's going on?" he asked, blinking dazedly as if he'd just woken from a nap.
"Hulk wanted you to have your picture taken for the Bulletin," she said, pointing toward the photographer.
"I…don't have a shirt on."
He was shivering, shirtless in the winter cold, and Natasha pulled him closer against her, saying as she smiled for the camera, "At least you're wearing pants."
Appearing shirtless in the papers, Bruce discovered, turned out to be the least uncomfortable part of defeating the Zodiac Cartel. Standing up on a stage in front of the UN, broadcast live on international television, and being presented with a Hulk-sized Service Medal because the Secretary General hadn't realized Coulson was joking, was much worse. Her flush of embarrassment didn't help, nor did her whispered I thought the Big Guy was going to be here as Bruce tried to look dignified rather than like he was dying a little bit on the inside. Beside him, Tony was dying, too-of laughter.
Afterward there was a swanky reception in the Delegates Dining Room, but Bruce slipped out to the plaza to take a moment to himself before he was forced to mingle. He found a bench and sat in the shadow of the knotted gun barrel of the Non-Violence sculpture, closed his eyes and loosened his bowtie and let his mind drift as he listened to the flap of the world flags and the splash of a fountain.
And Tony's voice, right in front of him. "What do you say let's blow this popsicle stand, pick up some shawarma, go to the Tower, get wasted?"
"Can't," Bruce replied, without opening his eyes. "Tasha and I have a meeting with our social worker first thing tomorrow morning."
"Aw, come on, Bruce, you owe me-what? Social worker?"
Now Bruce looked up at Tony.
"We're adopting," he said. "Or trying to. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. And for being an asshole."
"Apology accepted," Tony said, giving his head a rapid shake. "Sorry, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this concept. You're going to adopt…a kid? Not a puppy?"
"What clued you in?" Sarcasm crept in despite the fact that this was supposed to be an apology. "The daddy issues?"
"Your meltdown over his letters suddenly makes so much sense." Tony dropped onto the bench beside him. "You're going to be a dad. Wow."
"I hope-"
Tony seized his lapels, gripped by new urgency. "Does this mean I need to go shopping for a bridesmaid's dress? Can I personally request that there be no bows on the back?"
"No one's put a bow on the back of a bridesmaid dress since the 90s," Natasha said as she emerged from around the corner of the sculpture.
"What's wrong with bows?" Bruce asked, a little dazzled as he took in her curvy figure in the jade green gown that barely had a back to put a bow on.
Natasha pressed her lips together, smothering a grin. As she sat on the arm of the bench, her fingers finding their way into his hair, mussing it free of the gel he'd applied too liberally before the ceremony.
"It's a non-issue," she told Tony. "One major life change at a time."
They'd talked, finally, about the marriage question people kept bringing up. Neither of them needed that to be assured of the other's commitment to their partnership. At least not for now.
"You're right," Tony said, nodding in agreement as he stood, adjusted his dinner jacket. "Being a godfather will be enough of a transition."
Bruce got up, too, and exchanged looks with Natasha. But Tony, misty-eyed, pulled them in for hugs.
"Seriously, this is fantastic. Couldn't happen to a-I was going to say nicer, but neither of you really are-a more deserving couple."
"We've still got a ways to go in the process," Bruce said. "Our social worker's reviewing our autobiographies now."
"Think she'll want mine, too?"
"Doubtful," Natasha replied.
"Ah. Well. I'll go home and work something up just in case."
The last time they were in Bonita Juarez's office, Natasha could barely get Bruce to look her in the eye. Today he held her hand as they entered, only letting it go when Bonita extended hers to shake it.
"Natasha, Bruce," she greeted. "It's so good to see you again."
"We didn't think you would," Natasha said.
"But you did," said Bruce.
Bonita gave a knowing smile. "I won't go so far as to say I told you so, but I will say aren't you glad I kept your case file open?"
She gestured for them to take a seat in front of her desk. Bruce's fingers twined together with Natasha's again as they settled into the chairs.
"Things have changed since our last meeting," Bonita observed.
Natasha felt as nervous as she had then, but knowing he was truly with her, whatever the outcome, helped. But then Bruce's hand went slack as something on the desk caught his eye: yesterday's Bulletin, the front page photo of the UN ceremony.
"You're decorated heroes, for one thing" Bonita said.
"Does that make us more qualified to adopt?" Bruce joked to diffuse his own discomfort. Natasha stroked the edge of his hand with her thumb.
"Actually I'm more impressed with your autobiographies," Bonita said, opening the file in front of her. "It's one thing to face supervillains, another entirely to face our own pasts and the people who wound us the deepest. Clearly you've worked hard and made a lot of progress since we last met." Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. "Together."
Bruce squeezed Natasha's fingers and darted a sideways glance at her, giving her a small smile. She returned it.
"Though I do have to address your return to the Avengers," Bonita went on. "From what I've read in the papers, there are still Zodiac cells to bring down?"
Natasha understood the unspoken question. "There are, but we won't be assisting with that. We're officially retired."
"Weren't you before?"
Not wanting to be the one to do all the talking, but not sure whether Bruce wanted to answer this, she looked to him. He pressed her hand again, then released it.
"I've always been a reluctant Avenger. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to be able to help, to use that strength as a force for good, but…there was always a risk in unleashing him. The goal was not to have to take it. But when we began this process…I felt endangered."
"By your father."
"I guess I turned to the Hulk to rescue me. It…didn't go so well."
"But according to the interviews, you've gotten more control over him than ever. Doesn't that tempt you? You can save the world without risk."
"We've saved the world," Natasha said. "Now it's time to live in it."
In reply, Bonita pushed back from her desk and stood, wearing a slight smile. A secret smile, or the look of a person about to reveal one. She went to her bookshelf, where a votive candle stood, and held her hand over it.
A flame flickered to life.
"You…you have pyrokinesis," Bruce stammered. "How…?"
Terrigenesis? Was Bonita an Inhuman?
"I was near a fallen meteorite," she answered with a shrug. "Beyond that, I don't know."
Bruce pulled at the ends of his hair. "The radiation…maybe neutron? If you came to the lab, I could-"
"He's about to nerd out on you," Natasha said.
"Sorry." Bruce stopped tugging at his hair, and his hand slid to the back of his neck which, like the tops of his ears, had gone red.
"No worries," said Bonita. "But I don't need to know. I thought about finding out. Put on a mask and suit of my own for a while, back in New Mexico. Called myself Firebird."
Was that in any of SHIELD's files? None Natasha had ever seen.
"Why did you stop?"
"Because I already had a job to do."
Bonita put her hand over the candle, and the flame shrank and guttered out, leaving a curling trail of smoke.
Moving back to the desk, she said, "Which brings me back to the question I asked at the end of our first meeting. Why do two former superheroes want to adopt a child?"
Natasha looked at Bruce. Her chest was tight, her throat was, too, but his nod, his hand covering hers on the armrest, helped her to get the words out she'd first said to him so long ago, in Clint's farmhouse, after Wanda made her relive the nightmare memory of the Red Room's "graduation ceremony."
"Neither of us can have them biologically," she said hoarsely. "We want our family to include children."
"Like people do," Bruce added.
Bonita looked pleased with this answer, lowered herself into her desk chair, and reached for another file folder from a tray in the corner of her desk.
"I know some children who want a family. They'll be very lucky to be a part of yours."
A/N: Many thanks to Malintzin, without whom I would have been stuck on that post-battle scene forever. I'm equally thankful for all the readers who've stuck with this story for the past few months and offered such kind feedback. I hope the loose ends have been tied up to your satisfaction. Look for an epilogue in a couple of days. (And to all you lucky enough to get to see Captain America: Civil War this weekend, enjoy, and please don't spoil me, because I have to wait a week. ;))