WOW. Thank you sooooo much for the amazing response to last chapter! I am so happy you enjoyed it! As a thank you, this chapter is extra-long! Hope you like!


Chapter Eight

Hulk

Hulk is still holding Banner when he wakes. The song – Mummy's song – is still caught in Hulk's throat.

Banner is asleep. His face is all soft and slack, and he looks old and tired and puny. He sags in Hulk's arms, like a doll. Banner's hair is all places, and his face has the colours on it still. Not so purple, not anymore. Yellow and green and blue. Where Hulk last touched him, where Hulk hurt him and made him weak.

He is very light. Of course, all things are light to Hulk: Hulk is the strongest there is. But Banner has always been so large in Hulk's mind that it seems wrong that he should be so light in his arms.

Hulk shifts a little and pulls Banner around so that he is cradled against Hulk, rather than sprawled over his chest. That is better. That is good.

It is good. Good. Good.

Banner's heart is same like Hulk's. The thump-thump is the same, and they happen at the same time. The double thumps make a tune. They fit perfectly behind Mummy's song, like they belong to each other.

Hulk begins to hum again.

Banner mumbles under his breath, and turns. Then he hisses as something in his arm is made to hurt (because Banner is hurt, and Hulk hurt him) and Hulk rumbles. He does not know what to do. He does not know.

Banner's eyes open. Brown and sad. Tony was right; Banner's eyes are always brown and sad. Hulk hates that they are brown and sad.

"Hulk," Banner says, breathy and raspy like sand and rocks. Hulk nods and hums some more. His arms tighten around Banner.

He will not leave.

"Hulk, my shoulder," Banner says, and he is Bruce now. Hulk remembers.

"Bruce," Hulk rumbles. He is loud, and he should be quieter. Hulk needs to learn.

Bruce sucks in air sharply, and sad-brown eyes turn to gaze at the floor. There is still yellow paint on his nose. "I need to move," he says, and he will not look at Hulk. "My shoulder... you've got it all wrenched, and I think I've done something to stop it healing properly."

Hulk carefully moves his arms. Banner is hurt. Banner is weak. Banner is puny.

(Bruce has always been puny. The man is cruel, and Mummy cries and Bruce is too puny to make it stop. Behind his eyes, the rage howls and howls until it howls itself into Hulk.)

Banner relaxes as Hulk turns him, and then rests his hand on Hulk's forearm. Banner's hands are big for a human's, but they are silly compared to Hulk's. He is not as brown as he was when they were in the hot places, where busy-loud-hot people scurried and worked and Banner fixed them when they broke. He was browner there. He is pale now, and thinner than he was. Hulk doesn't like it.

"Are you all right?" Bann- Bruce asks. He will not look at Hulk.

Hulk frowns. "Hulk always all right!"

Bruce smiles, and it doesn't touch his eyes. "I know that's not true," he says, sour as lemons. "You can't fool yourself, you know."

Hulk can too! "Hulk is Hulk," he says, cross. "Bruce not all right. Bruce stays with Hulk?"

"I'm here," Bruce says, and sighs. His hair is all places, and he pats Hulk's arm, once, twice. "I'm here."

"Bruce sad," Hulk offers. "Hulk sing Mummy's song again."

Bruce's eyes close like doors. "No," he says faintly. "No, that's all right. I'm okay."

Lies. "Lies," Hulk growls.

"Hah," Bruce says, and his next smile is real. That is better. That is good.

"Bruce not okay." Hulk makes the sad-brown look up into his own eyes. Bruce looks like Hulk looks like Bruce. They are the same. "Hulk is not okay. Hulk trapped. Hulk always trapped. Bruce and Hulk apart. Not finished."

Bruce pauses, and then nods. "No. We're not finished," he says, very quietly. "We're not whole people. We need the other one to be complete. I'm a shell without you, and you don't know anything at all. But you're learning. I'm learning. We'll get better at it."

"Banner told truth," Hulk says, and hates, hates, hates. "Hulk smash and Bruce is sad. Hulk smash people. Hulk smash Bruce's everything. Hulk not good. Not good." Hulk can feel the rage in his teeth, in his tongue and fingertips. Familiar and hot. Hulk wants to smash! But not now, no. Hulk must learn. Hulk must be good.

"Shhh," Bruce says, and touches Hulk's face with a gentle hand. Hulk breathes. "You're good. You're good, Hulk. You didn't know. You're so young, Hulk. All young people make mistakes. Rule two."

Hulk nods, hating how Bruce must put away his rage, hating how Hulk must put away his rage. They are hurt. They are hurt, hurt, hurt. "Rule two."

"It's strange – you're as old as I am, in a way, but you're hardly more than a child in others." Bruce leans back, looks at Hulk thoughtfully. "I locked you up and I couldn't admit it, even to myself. But look at you – I'm here, and you're here, and you're holding me and I'm safe, because your hands are my hands, after all. Your anger is my anger. And your crimes are mine. I'm the adult here. I should have tried harder. I should have done something. You didn't know. I did."

"Banner is good," Hulk says, and scowls. "Banner is good. Hulk is not good. Hulk hurt Banner!"

"Shhh," Bruce says again, and touches Hulk's face once more. His little fingers dance like insects on Hulk's cheek, tracing lines they both wear and the scar their father gave them on their chin. "Rule two. Rule two. You're good. You're learning so fast. You're so good, and I'm so proud of you."

Hulk likes that. Bruce is proud of Hulk! "Then Hulk and Bruce both good," Hulk declares, and snorts through his nose at Bruce's surprised expression. "If Hulk and Bruce same, then both good, or both bad. Not different. Same."

"Ah," Bruce says, and rubs at the back of his neck. Surprised, but still sad. Still lies. Bruce is sorry for Hulk, but angry at Banner. Bruce is always angry, just like Hulk. "I'm not sure..."

"Stop lies!"

Bruce closes his eyes, tilts his head, smiles. "All right, fine, so we're both good. Should have known I couldn't fool myself either."

"Banner stupid," Hulk agrees, and Bruce throws back his head and laughs.

Hulk grins.

"So," Bruce says when he has finished laughing, "this is us, now, huh?"

Hulk quirks an eyebrow, not understanding. "Hulk no understand," he says, because Hulk is still not good at keeping thoughts inside.

(Except Hulk's best good experiment. That is a secret. That is Hulk's special secret. They will not be alone, and Red-Black will be there today. She will help, like Star Man and Tony and Shooty Bird help; Bruce and Hulk will not be alone.)

Bruce leans back in Hulk's arms, and he is so light. But Bruce is smart, smart, smart. Hulk can feel the spark and fizz of Banner's thoughts when they are so close. Banner always thinks too fast.

"You and me," Bruce explains, and pats Hulk's arm again. "We have to deal with what you are, what we are. And I've been doing a lousy job, I know, but I didn't want everyone to see the truth... including me." He sighs again- he sounds old, old and tired. "Well, that sure worked, didn't it? Everything's out in the open now."

Hulk pulls a face. It is good that Bruce knows, and he will stop his lies. Stop the lies to Hulk and to himself. But Hulk knows why Bruce does not like it. People should not see how they feel. It makes them weak.

"Only Tony see," he offers, and Bruce rubs his eyes.

"I know," he says. "But we never let people see. Not even Betty got to see. I move on; I stick to the practical, deal with what is and keep moving, that's what I've always done. This..."

"Weak," Hulk rumbles, and nods. He knows. Hulk knows.

Bruce's mouth goes flat and hard. "I never wanted to be weak in front of anyone else, ever again."

Hulk growls. The man is cruel. "Hulk knows."

"I know you do," Bruce says. Anger, all the anger. They know anger, Bruce and Hulk. They sleep and breathe and eat anger, year after year after year. "We've never stayed in one place long enough for our situation to catch up with us, not until now."

"Only Tony see," Hulk repeats, but Hulk understands this. Bruce does not let people see. Bruce moves on, Bruce works and runs and his thoughts flash and sizzle, always moving on, always work work work on the things he can change. Hulk told Tony; Puny Banner runs, puny Banner hides. And so does Hulk.

But now they stand still, and Team keeps them in one place. Bruce and Hulk are all in pieces, and Tony saw.

"Tony good," Hulk says, and studies Bruce's face. "Tony not hurt Bruce. Team not hurt Bruce."

Bruce shrugs. "Yeah, I know. But it's more than that. And we're not just dealing with the team, either – there's SHIELD, and the army, god, I hope they don't get wind of this."

Hulk snarls. Ross.

Bruce looks at Hulk, serious. "I will protect you," he says, little puny Banner in Hulk's arms.

"Hulk protect Bruce!" That is what Hulk does! That is what he is for!

"I know," says Bruce, and his lip twists. He is mocking himself. "I know you do. But we're more vulnerable this way, don't you see?"

"No. Bruce fix," Hulk says. "Not weak! Not weak! Bruce and Hulk will be strongest!" Hulk roars in outrage, and Hulk's noise is huge and hurt and angry. "Fix!"

"Hulk," Bruce sighs, and the sad is back in his brown eyes and Hulk is sad too. They are both sad, and they are both angry. It is not good. Not good. "I deal with practicalities, not abstracts. Physics, mechanics, even medicine – that's all subject to real-world laws and rules that I can work within. I like that, it's... comforting. All this stuff, it's all abstracts. My anger, your anger, our life, our bodies, our minds. Where we go from here. If we can ever be put back together – if we even should. How people will react now that they know what we are. What they plan to do with us. God. I hate uncertainties."

Hulk thinks and thinks. It is easier with Bruce. Hulk can feel the zip and zing of his thoughts, so very near that they buzz, wrapped safe and fizzing in his arms. Hulk pretends that those sharp and sparkling thoughts are Hulk's. They can be Hulk's. Hulk can think like Bruce, because Hulk is Bruce is Hulk, and Bruce is right there in Hulk's arms. Hulk holds their thoughts in his hands.

And then Hulk has it. "Team," Hulk says. Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Team," Hulk insists, and growls a little. Hulk doesn't like it, but the Team should see. Bruce needs to make them see. Team is strong. Team is strongest when all together, and they will be together with Hulk and Bruce and they will not be weak. And Tony... Tony will fix it. Bruce and Tony will fix it, in the white place, where the words are fast and the thoughts are even faster.

"If you're sure," Bruce says gently, and then his face twists. He hates it. Hulk knows. "If you're sure, then I'll tell them. What we are."

Bruce is brave. Huh.

Hulk forgot that Bruce is brave.

"Hulk..." Hulk stops and growls some more. Then Hulk shakes himself. Hulk can be brave too. They will see, and Team will not hurt them. Team is strong. "Tell Team. They fix."

"All right." Bruce takes in a long breath, and lets it out. "All right."

Hulk shifts, unsure. Bruce pats his face once more, and then reaches up to touch Hulk's hair. His hand comes away with blue flakes on it and Hulk huffs loudly, surprised. "Blue!"

"You have paint in your hair," Bruce smiles. Hulk huffs again, and touches one finger to Bruce's nose.

"Yellow."

"Yell—oh, fucking Tony, should have remembered. You mean the whole time I was making a scene I had yellow paint on my nose?"

Hulk nods solemnly, and then they are both laughing and it is good. Good.

"Oh my god, I'm an idiot," Bruce gasps, and laughs again before hiding his face in Hulk's shoulder.

Hulk chuckles. "Hulk told you. Bruce stupid."

"You're obviously the brains of this operation," Bruce mumbles.

Hulk puffs out his chest. Banner thinks Hulk is smart. Banner, whose thoughts fizz and sparkle. Banner thinks Hulk has brains. Banner is proud of Hulk.

"We'll need to do the shower experiment again," Bruce says against Hulk's shoulder. Hulk sighs.

"Hulk rain experiment again?" he says mournfully.

"Yes. Sorry."

Hulk grunts. "Bruce shower. Bruce do it. Wash Hulk's hair."

Bruce pulls back to look up at Hulk. "You're sure? How about Star Man?"

Hulk shrugs and lifts Bruce up so that their faces are level. "Bruce," he insists. "Star Man later. Experiment. Red-Black."

Bruce's eyebrows shoot up. "You're up to something, aren't you?"

Hulk tries to make his face blank, just like Red-Black does. She has the best of blank faces, she is even better at hiding than Banner. Maybe Red-Black teaches Hulk how. "Hulk rain experiment. With Banner. Touch now, see?" And Hulk touches a fingertip to Bruce's hair, soft as soft. Like with the bloons. Careful.

Bruce shakes his head. "I'll figure it out, you know. You can't hide it from me."

Truth.

But Hulk is stubborn – as stubborn as Bruce. Hulk can do his best good experiment, and Bruce will not know until the experiment is all over. Hulk will bring Team all together and show Bruce that they will not be alone. Red-Black and Star Man and Shooty Bird and Tony and Hulk and Bruce.

Even... ugh. Even Shouty Long-Hair and his stupid hammer.

Hulk smiles and holds Bruce tighter. He will not be alone, and Hulk will protect him and it will be good.

It will be good.


Tony

It's sort of miraculous that Tony isn't hungover when he staggers into the kitchen for breakfast, but then, he hadn't touched a single drink last night, even though he really, really wanted one. He'd been shaken by what he saw, but he somehow just couldn't muster up the energy to go and fetch the bottle of Islay single malt (a reaaaaally nice Islay single malt, too – twenty-five years old, matured in French oak barrels, strong and smooth with a hint of peat) that lurked under his workbench. He'd gone to bed instead.

So it's miraculous that he isn't hungover. Miraculous that he didn't drink. Normally he would have after witnessing something like that. The old Tony would have, no question. Bruce "Doctor Stoicism" Banner falling to pieces and the Hulk putting him back together? Fuck yeah, hand over the booze.

The new Tony went to bed with his hand pressed to the arc reactor, and had unsettling dreams that he couldn't quite remember.

He yawned as he opened the fridge and stared groggily at the contents. There was milk. Good.

Grabbing it, he started up the coffeemaker and waited for the thing to finish. Too slow. He tossed around a few ideas to make the stupid fucking thing go faster, but by the time he'd figured out the most efficient modifications the coffee was ready, so obviously that was now second priority. Coffee. Coffee came first.

He slumped down at the table with his mug ("ENGINEERS DO IT WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE MANUAL") and grunted at Clint and Natasha as they slipped into the room, making a beeline for the fridge. Natasha pulled out her weird bran-muesli-fruity-hippie cereal, and then said, "oh good, there's milk."

Tony mumbled an affirmative.

"Stark, you with us?" Clint looked back at the man at the table while he threw a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. "Big night, huh?"

"Didn't drink, had shit dreams," Tony said, and clutched his coffee closer. Coffee. Coffee was good.

"Sucks," Clint said, his eyes dancing. Bastard.

"Hey, guys. Oh, hi Tony, you're never up this early," Steve entered the room, looking disgustingly healthy as he wiped down his face with a towel. He'd obviously gone for a run, because he was all sweaty and red-faced and secretly insane.

"Do tell," Tony muttered, and brought his coffee up like a shield, in case the insanity was catching.

Steve gave Tony a long, appraising look, before abandoning that conversation until the caffeine kicked in. "So, where are you two off to today?" he asked the two assassins.

Tony looked up. Yes, they were in carefully nondescript clothing that practically screamed 'mission'. Clint generally wore the slobbiest of sweats when he was relaxing around the tower, and Natasha would wear either loose workout clothes, jeans and a tank top, or old comfortable sweaters over tights. The smart business suits they wore were as significant as their 'work' suits. Underneath would be layers of Kevlar and hidden weapons.

"SHIELD business," Natasha said, and sat down with her cereal across from Tony.

"What about Hulk? He wants to see you today," Tony said, and frowned up at Clint. Clint gave him a 'what can you do?' shrug.

"I know," Natasha said, and took a bite before pushing her spoon through the cereal absently. "Clint told me. But this mission, Tony. You know."

He did know, and goddamn it, he didn't want to remember. "But..."

"It's recon only," Clint offered, and Steve subtly relaxed. Reconnaissance was not a totally safe option, but better that they were going undercover for intelligence-gathering purposes rather than walking in as Hawkeye and the Black Widow and making targets of themselves. Steve didn't like it when his team put themselves in danger, and furthermore he liked to be there to help them out of it.

Natasha gave Tony a brief glance before she placed her spoon beside her bowl with a neat click. "Actually, this mission directly affects the team. I was going to wait until everyone turned up for breakfast before briefing you..."

She trailed off as Bruce shuffled in. He looked exhausted, and his hair was a truly spectacular riotous mess. There was still yellow paint on his nose.

"Just tell me there's coffee," he said in a raspy voice, and Tony wordlessly pointed to the machine.

"You've gotten a taste for it since Jade Jaws moved out of home, hey Doc?" Clint said into the uncomfortable silence.

"Nnnngh," Bruce said, and glared muzzily as the coffeemaker bubbled at him. "This thing needs to be faster."

"I knew it," Tony muttered.

"Bruce, are you..." Steve began, worry in his eyes. "You look terrible."

Bruce snorted. "And I've always tried to stay pretty for you, Cap."

"Brucey," Tony tried. Bruce sighed and grabbed his mug ("FRANKIE SAYS RELAX"), before straightening his shoulders and turning around to meet Tony's eyes.

"I'm all right," he said quietly. "But I need to come clean about a few things. Where's Thor?"

"In the gym," Steve said. "I saw him before. Clint and Natasha have something to share as well, so maybe it's time to have a meeting. JARVIS, would you inform Thor that we need him in the kitchen?"

"Of course, Captain Rogers."

"Meeting?" Tony whined. "Like a house-meeting? Can it wait until after coffee? Seriously, there is too much blood in my caffeine system right now."

Bruce slid into the chair beside him, and nudged his elbow. "Drink up then, wuss."

"Steve, Bruce is picking on me," Tony complained, secretly overjoyed that Bruce was teasing him. After what he had seen, he hadn't known what to expect. To have their quietly sarcastic teammate back was more than he could have hoped. There was life in Bruce's eyes; life, and something else. Something warm and steely and angry, something indefinably Bruce that had been missing ever since Stingray had zapped him and broken him in two.

"I've had paint on my nose for the last fourteen hours thanks to you. You're lucky it's only teasing," Bruce retorted dryly, before taking another sip of his coffee.

"You're really okay?" Tony whispered to him. Bruce's hands tightened around his mug.

"I will be," he said in a low, tense voice. "Both of me. But I have some decisions to make."

Great, that wasn't the least bit cryptic at all.

Thor arrived in a blur of muscular blond enthusiasm as always. To Tony, the God of Thunder always gave the impression of being too... everything. Too loud, too big, too Thor. He was painfully obvious with his emotions, and gods knew he wasn't the biggest fan of moderation. His joys were wholehearted, his loves all-encompassing, his pain and hate just as much so, if not more. Tony sank down in his seat as Thor swept in with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm, the very personification of the word 'hearty'. He slapped Steve's back, inclined his head politely to Natasha and blocked two rapid jabs from Clint with his loud and delighted laughter ringing in Tony's ears. "Ah, my archer friend, you shall not yet get the better of me!" he declared, grinning. "But still, a valiant effort!"

It was fucking annoying how Thor was so damn noble all the time. Still, he was fun to drink with.

And that once more reminded him once more that he was, for once, not hungover. Tony gulped down the last of his coffee as Bruce said, "Okay. We're all here."

"Nothing gets by you, Doc," Clint said, snagging his toast and taking a huge bite. Bruce blinked at the archer, registering the clothes.

"You're going out?"

"Mission," Clint said with his mouth full. "Natasha'll tell you."

"In a moment," Natasha said, studying Bruce carefully. "Doctor Banner has something to tell us."

Bruce took a sip of his coffee, and then took a few long, long breaths. He glanced once at Tony, before swallowing. Then he said, "Some of you have figured out about... me and Hulk. Well, I'm letting you know it for certain. Hulk and I."

He closed his eyes as he took another breath. Then they opened, and they were steel. "We're the same person."

Thor's eyes widened. "Your warrior self..."

"Is in fact my childhood rage, given an independent existence," Bruce smiled uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. He scratched at the paint on his nose and then gave one of those tired, dusty little sighs. "Sort of. It's complicated. Anyway, I need to fill you in, because I need to know what to do next."

"What about?" Steve said, sitting down opposite Bruce and giving him such a look of open, honest concern that Tony sort of wanted to punch him. Except not really, because he didn't want to break his hand on that steel jaw.

"Us. Me," Bruce said heavily. "We're not complete as we are. We're not whole people as we are. He's half of me, and vice versa."

Tony just sat there, numb and voiceless, as Bruce did just about the bravest thing he could think of and gave these people the key to all his doors.

No-one had ever learned all the secrets behind the Iron Man suit, not Obie, not even Rhodey's Army goons. Tony couldn't even entertain the prospect of allowing another person to see the arc reactor specs. And this was worse than that... this was Bruce's fucking psyche, his very soul. This was so, soooo invasive.

And screw it, he wanted to know more.

"Bruce," Natasha said, shock lighting her eyes, though her face never betrayed a thing.

"I know, I know," he said, and gave her a tight little smile. "How about that. You were right, you and Tony. Right all along. I gotta tell you, that kind of pisses me off."

I hate how right you are. The words echoed once more through Tony's mind, and he gripped his mug tighter.

"What do you mean, what to do next about you? Uh, him? Both of you?" Steve asked, stumbling over the idea.

Bruce took a sip of coffee, and then put his mug down. Grim determination flooded that tired face, as though he was preparing to put his hand in a fire. "I don't want this to be used as a weapon against us," he said, his gaze trained on his hands. "There are people, groups out there who would love to get a hold of either one of us, and we - we're weaker this way. Both of us. Hulk doesn't have my reasoning capacity, and he's... well, he's Hulk. He's getting better at drawing on our experience, but the first and preferred method is still to smash until it's no longer a problem. I can be hurt without him in my body. I could be threatened to get Hulk to do what others want. If they separate us for too long, I'll lose all capacity to feel and Hulk will lose all capacity to reason. I could become a soulless automaton, and Hulk could become a mindless smashing machine. I don't want to know what either of us is capable of in those states. Hulk needs me, and I need him."

There was a pause full of awkward, awkward awkwardness. Oh jeez, so, soooo awkward. Tony's eyes raced around the table, trying to find an out, begging someone to say something.

"But hang on, you always said you weren't him," said Clint, like a stupid STUPID idiot.

That wasn't at all what he had ordered. Damn, even the awkwardness was better that that! Tony winced. Yes, remind the guy of why he denied it, that's a great idea, featherhead. You insensitive massive-armed DICKWAD.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "And now I'm telling you that I was full of shit."

O... Kay. So maybe Bruce was like some sort of angst-sponge? Wring him out once, and he's done?

"Why?"

Shut up, Birdbrain! Tony howled internally, and tried to will himself into saying something to shut this idiot up. But amazingly, Bruce didn't snap back. He chuckled instead.

"Because I was afraid, wouldn't you be?" he said, and the corner of his mouth quirked. "I was afraid of taking responsibility for Hulk's actions. And for mine. But there's no doubt about it; he's me, and I'm another him." He glanced up at Natasha. "Or whatever."

Her mouth twitched just the tiniest amount, and her eyes glittered in pride and approval. "You're a good man, Bruce," she said simply. "And a brave one."

"So I keep telling myself," Bruce said, and chuckled again, apparently finding something in that statement vastly amusing.

Tony gawked, and the image of this man shaking and trembling in Hulk's massive arms flew through his mind. How could a guy go from there... to here? So fucking quickly? What the hell kind of alloy was Bruce made of?

"But if you're him..." Steve said slowly, "doesn't that mean that you here... and you there..."

"That's right," Bruce said calmly, and took another sip of his coffee. "I'm half a person, Cap. The rest of me is downstairs in a cell, nine feet tall and green, and needs another shower."

He might be stronger than ever.

Wow. Bruce was... wow. Tony gaped, and his insides gave a little lurch just beneath the arc reactor.

"With your strengths separate, you are correct that you may be exposed to other dangers," Thor said, his brow furrowing. "The green beast may be indestructible, but you, Doctor Banner, are not." Once again Tony remembered that Thor had in fact studied tactics.

"You're really vulnerable like this," Steve realised.

Bruce's head bobbed. "Yes."

"You want to try to put you guys back together?" Tony guessed, his mouth dry.

Then he restrained the urge to whack his head repeatedly against the table. What an opening line. He flays himself in front of you and what's your first response? Wow, stellar work there, Stark – instead of saying, "Can I have your autograph" or "you deserve ALL the blowjobs", instead why not suggest that you stick the rage monster back in his head? YOU GENIUS.

"I don't know if this particular Humpty can ever be put back together again," Bruce said, and his fingers rubbed over each other. That little habit of his, with the wringing hands. Tony wanted to know about that, too. "But maybe we should try. I'll talk to him about it. There are definite disadvantages – we won't be able to talk anymore, for example – but we'd be whole again."

"You want the Hulk back in your head?" Clint said incredulously.

Bruce's mouth went taut. "It's not a question of want, Clint. It's a question of need. You've had part of your mind taken away before; you of all people would probably understand this."

Clint's eyes went blank with absolute horror. "Fuck."

"It may not be possible," Bruce said, and his expression turned distant. "We might be stuck like this for good. That brings up the question of Hulk's aging as opposed to mine, and what would happen if I died. At the very least I need to investigate the possibility of recombining us."

"I'll help," Tony said, finding his voice. He sounded thick and shaky. God damn it... he sounded stunned.

Stunned was only the start.

Bruce smiled, and Tony's insides lurched again. "I thought you would. Thanks."

"You need to hear this," Natasha interrupted in a low voice, before giving everyone in the kitchen a long, hard look. "Nothing of this conversation travels further than the six of us, understand? That includes what Bruce just told us."

A threat from the Widow was no joke. "Gotcha," Tony said quickly as everyone chimed in with various sounds of agreement.

She lifted her chin. "Yesterday at fourteen-hundred approximately, the individual variously known as Mister Blue, Samuel Sterns or the Leader escaped SHIELD custody through some sort of psionic manipulation. He overpowered the guards, hacked into SHIELD files and fled towards Chicago."

Bruce paled and swayed on his chair. Tony instinctively wrapped an arm around him to steady him, and felt the utter rigidity of the muscles along his back.

"Bruce, breathe," he muttered.

"You knew," Bruce managed, and wiped at his mouth.

Well, he couldn't really refute that. He nodded.

"Why didn't you say?"

"I was going to, but then there was Hulk and the whole..." Tony tried to make a gesture that would sufficiently describe Hurricane Bruce's Emotional Breakdown.

"Right," Bruce mumbled. "Sterns is alive?"

"He's mutated," Clint put in. "I saw him a few times during briefings, back when they were using the Cube and not the Helicarrier for agent prep and training. He's a gamma mutant, like you and..."

"Blonsky," Bruce spat, and then covered his face with his hands. Tony wrapped his arm around the guy just that little more, trying to imbue his care and worry through his touch.

"What, he gets all big and green when he gets angry?" Steve asked.

"No, he's green all the time actually," Clint shrugged. "He's an ugly mother. Seriously giant head, but normal sized everywhere else. From what I hear he's gone off the deep end since he got gamma'd up; calls himself the 'Leader' and wants to do all sorts of crazy shit to humanity to make them just like him and the Doc. He wasn't any slouch in the brains department before, from what his file says, but the gamma really kicked that up a notch or twelve."

"He wants to make more of us," Bruce said, muffled behind his hands. "Oh my god, why is that always the reason?"

"Not always, Doctor Banner," Thor said gently. "That is not why we wish for you to be here."

Bruce jerked his head up to stare over his fingers at the god.

Stupid noble Thor. I should have thought to say that first.

"So he's in Chicago?" prompted Steve.

"We think so," Natasha picked up the conversation smoothly. "He's obsessed with Doctor Banner. Because he's green, we think that it was Bruce's blood which infected him, not Blonsky's."

"He would have had plenty of opportunity to experiment," Bruce said dully. "He had my blood and was running animal trials for months and months."

"Well, he doesn't have it any more," Clint told him. "All that research got destroyed at Culver. Tasha saw to that."

Bruce shot Natasha a piercing look, and she nodded slowly. He sat back, blowing out a long breath. "Thank you."

She inclined her head. "You're welcome."

"It wouldn't work with my blood any more, anyway," Bruce said, his brow creasing thoughtfully. His fingers rose to describe a little circle on his forehead as he thought. "My blood registers as baseline human now, regular old homo sapiens. Hulk would be the one with the stable gamma mutation."

"But would your blood sustain the mutation again?" Tony asked, leaning forward. "I mean, your blood now. We know that it did, but does that song play twice?"

Bruce frowned. "It might. It might."

"With what Bruce just told us," Natasha continued implacably, "it's imperative that we keep him and Hulk away from this madman. He believes that in their current state they are vulnerable to attack, and I have to agree. None of this gets out, understand?"

"It wouldn't work the same way for others, anyway," Bruce mused, and rubbed his good hand through his hair. "It was a fluke, the accident that created us. It just wouldn't work with other people – you'd end up with a Blonsky, not me. My – our accident... our circumstances are totally dependent on the things that we are, the life we've lived... and that's something gamma radiation just can't induce in others."

"Yuck, emotions in science. Messy," Tony said, wrinkling his nose.

Bruce gave him a small smile. "Unbelievably."

That smile gave him another little lurch inside. Tony decided that it was hope. Bruce was going to be all right.

In fact, he seemed to be more determined, more focused, more Bruce than he'd ever been before, and Tony sort of wanted to know why.

Yeah. So? He was an engineer at heart. He liked to know how things worked. That was his JOB. And Bruce – Bruce wasn't making sense.

"Can you see Hulk before you leave, at least?" Bruce asked Natasha. "He's pretty insistent about seeing you. I'm sure he's up to something."

"Hulk. Up to something," Clint said, and pulled a face. "Oh, that's reassuring."

She frowned. "We're leaving in an hour. We won't have time to..."

"Please, Natasha."

(Hey Brucesteel, ask me too. I'll go see Hulk. And have I mentioned that you've been sitting there like a colossus of bravery, power and majesty with MY yellow paint on your nose? And I like it? Also, would you mind if I went swimming in your brain because holy crap I need to know how you work.)

She sighed. "Fine. I'll come now."

Bruce smiled once more. "Thanks."

Tony was going to get tired of that little lurch eventually.


Bruce

Bruce absently touched two fingers to the pulse point on his wrist as the elevator took them down. It was a movement made out of long habit. No reason to, of course, not for years, just habit. His heartrate was up, but considering that he'd just spilled his closest, darkest secret to five of the most dangerous individuals in the world, he thought that was only right and sensible.

God. That was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Still, Hulk had asked. So Bruce had delivered. He couldn't disappoint the little boy that lived at the heart of the hulking monster, he just couldn't. Too many other people already had, Bruce among them. He wasn't going to do it again, not ever.

He was still slightly off-centre from Clint and Natasha's revelation, let alone the giant catharsis of the night before. That wasn't like him at all, and he was just a little amazed at himself for breaking down like that. Bruce wasn't the best at emotional introspection; he preferred to deal with the problem in front of him, rather than the ones he left behind. "Buttoned down" was a phrase that got used around him a lot. Evidently, if he'd dealt with his poisons years ago, he might have found some sort of equilibrium a lot sooner.

Well, better later than never, and perhaps he could be a happier man for it. Well, happier men.

Happier. Now there was an ambition he hadn't aspired to since fleeing America the first time. Idly he wondered how Betty was doing, and then forcefully threw the idea out of his head. She'd written to him via Tony Stark following the Battle of Manhattan after seeing him on TV. She'd been fine. She'd been chatty and cheerful and seemingly content. She'd married Leonard.

Leonard. A decent enough man. A shrink. Bruce had a lot more respect for that profession, considering recent developments. It had hurt at the time, receiving that news, but then, everything was fuel for the anger anyway and so it had been... useful.

Hulk was playing in the smash-corner when they approached the door. It was tremendously noisy, and Natasha deliberately fell back in order for Bruce to enter first. Her eyes were very, very wary. Behind her, Clint shifted impatiently.

"We should go," he hissed.

"This is important," she hissed back, though she made no move to enter the adamantium door when Bruce punched in the keycode.

Bruce slipped through and smiled up at where Hulk was taking apart great slabs of rock. He would hold them close to his eyes to see where they were likely to shatter, and then smash them to confirm his findings. That was analytical of him.

"Hi," he said.

"Bruce!" Hulk said, and lumbered towards him, dropping his rock. "Bruce went," he complained. "Hulk not want Bruce to go. But Bruce went. 'Not long.' Too long!"

"Sorry," Bruce said, and held up his hand. "But I brought some visitors."

Hulk perked up. "Team?"

"No, not the whole team," Bruce said, and began to lower himself down. Abruptly a huge green hand was before his face, and he gratefully allowed Hulk to support his weight. Fuck, but he was tired of his stupid shoulder.

"Bruce still hurt," Hulk said petulantly.

"Yes, we're all aware," Bruce puffed, and probed at his shoulder with a thumb. Yeah, inflamed tissue; he'd done some damage. Gavin was going to be unbearable. He'd most likely be forced to hear all about the last motocross derby in painful, boring detail.

"Tell Team?"

"Yes, I did," Bruce said, and squeezed Hulk's finger as much as he could. "They'll help, of course."

Hulk gave him a huge, smug grin. "Hulk said so."

"You and Tony, I swear," Bruce said, and smiled up at his greener self. "You're as bad as each other with the 'I told you so's, honestly."

Hulk sniffed, and then paused as a silent shadow ghosted into the room. His eyes narrowed. "Red-Black?"

Natasha raised her head, and looked directly into Hulk's eyes. Bruce was impressed. She'd never come near them on the field, and had generally given Bruce himself a wide berth. It seemed that recognising their similarities the other day had begun some sort of change in her way of thinking. Perhaps when Bruce had confirmed the nature of his and Hulk's interdependence, she had found it in herself to actually approach the monster that had once nearly ripped her apart.

Huh, all conjecture. Knowing Natasha, likely to be way off the mark. Furthermore she wasn't about to give anything away, that at least Bruce was very sure of.

"Hulk," she said, her voice utterly composed. Bruce frowned. Well, everyone slipped now and then. He could tell that her composure was a lie.

Apparently, so could Hulk. He dropped to a crouch, his back hunching as he made himself as small as he could (which really, really wasn't small at all). He ducked his head, his massive hands uncurling to lie flat and harmless on the buckled adamantium floor. "Red-Black," he said again, and made a snuffling, rumbling noise. The noise that meant affection.

Her eyes flickered to where Bruce sat, before fixing once again on the green behemoth who was trying so hard to make himself look smaller for her benefit. "You can stand," she said, and tilted her head, her curls slipping to one side. "If you want," she added.

Hulk looked up, suspicious. Bruce put his hand on Hulk's wrist, feeling those huge hawser-like tendons shifting underneath his palm like the cables on a ship. "I think Natasha would like it if you apologised," he murmured.

Hulk immediately scowled. "Bruce apologise too!"

"I did," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "Well, I apologised for the both of us, I suppose."

"If Bruce say sorry, Hulk not need to," Hulk said dismissively, and then his mouth dropped open in a soundless laugh, his pebble-like teeth glinting.

"Your logic is impeccable," Bruce muttered. Then he looked up at Natasha. "Sorry, he's being a bit..."

"Red-Black stay?" Hulk leaned forward on one hand eagerly, his eyes glinting. "Stay for Hulk's experiment?"

"I can't, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I have to go."

Hulk's eyebrows slowly lowered, and then he abruptly let out a huge bellow of fury. "No! Red-Black stays! RED-BLACK STAYS! HULK WANT RED-BLACK TO STAY!"

Bruce clamped his hands over his ears, and met Natasha's eyes. The blood had drained from her face, but her expression had not changed one iota. "I can't," she repeated evenly. "I have a mission. I'm working to keep you and Bruce safe."

Hulk's roars broke off, though he smashed one hand angrily against the floor. "Hulk keeps Bruce safe! No need Red-Black stupid mission. Stay. Stay!"

"I can't," she repeated, and Hulk broke off into another set of roars and howls. His fists smacked against the ground over and over, but he made no motions towards her.

He – didn't move an inch.

Amazingly, he didn't even break any more of his rocks. Hulk raged and raged, no less ferocious or furious than before, but it was as though his mighty feet were locked in one place. Rules, Bruce thought, and fought the urge to shout in triumph. The Rules. Hulk was following them - without prompting.

That was incredible.

Was this how it felt to be a proud parent? He felt like he was about to burst.

Bruce glanced over at Natasha. Her expression was still frozen, but there was a calculating glint in her eye and he knew that she had noticed Hulk's lack of momentum and the total absence of an attack. There would be no heart-stopping chases this day. He silently blessed Tony for the existence of Rule One, and then pulled himself up laboriously. "Hulk," he said softly, trying to break through that tantrum-induced deafness to where Hulk's mind worked in tandem with his own. "Hulk, calm down. She'll be back, promise."

"But Hulk's experiment! Hulk's experiment!"

"I know," she said. "And I'm sorry, Hulk. But Clint and I have to go. We really will be keeping you safe."

Hulk growled, echoes lingering in the metal walls. "Hulk no want Red-Black to go! Hulk's experiment! HULK WANT RED-BLACK AND SHOOTY BIRD TO STAY!"

"Well," Natasha said, and the faintest of smiles crossed her lips. "I have it on good authority that you don't every time get what you want."

Bruce clamped his mouth shut and glared at her. Cheeky fucking assassin.

"We'll be back, Hulk. I promise," she said earnestly, and took a short step towards him. "And then we can do as many experiments as you like. As many as you want. We'll be back."

Hulk gave her a sullen look, and then shuffled around so that his back faced her.

"Oh well, you tried," Bruce sighed. She regarded the broad green back with amusement dancing in her eyes.

"You've got your hands full, don't you?"

"Tell me about it," he grumbled. How could Hulk be so perceptive one minute and then revert to a toddler the next?

"Red-Black and Shooty Bird just go. Just leave Hulk and not come back," snapped Hulk with a tremendously wounded air. Natasha covered her mouth to stop her laughter escaping, and Bruce had to restrain the urge to hide his face in embarrassment. Natasha knew that this massive lump of sulkiness was him.

How humiliating.

"As dummy-spitting goes, that's impressive," Clint's voice lilted from the doorway. Hulk grunted, and Bruce looked up to see the archer leaning against the huge doorjamb, his heavy arms folded and a look of utter glee on his face.

"Oh, shut up," Bruce muttered, before patting Hulk's arm gently. Hulk growled and turned soulful, martyred eyes to Bruce.

"But Hulk's experiment," he said plaintively. Bruce sighed again and patted that massive arm once more. Hulk's lower lip was jutting out comically. He looked preposterous.

"God, I hope I wasn't like this as a kid," he muttered.

"It's okay, Jade Jaws," Clint said cheerfully. "Nothing's gonna stop Tasha from coming back to see you. And we've got more painting to do, yeah?"

Hulk grunted again.

"We'll be back before you know it," Natasha said. "We just wanted to come and say goodbye to you and Bruce."

"Hulk protect Bruce."

"We know you will, buddy," Clint agreed. "We know."

Hulk sighed like a rusty bellows and lowered his head in (very, VERY) grudging acceptance. "Bye-bye," he grumbled.

"See you soon," Clint corrected. They turned to go, and Bruce eyed his other half with exasperation. Finally accept the violent and childlike part of your psyche, and what's the first thing that occurs? A tantrum. Of course. He was so lucky.

"Tasha," Hulk said suddenly, and Bruce blinked. What...?

She halted at the door, her body elegant and poised. Somehow, though, Bruce could tell that the use of her name (or nickname) had rocked her equilibrium. Second time. Maybe Hulk's perceptions were bleeding through to him? Or maybe he was just getting to know her better? "Yes, Hulk?" she said.

"Hulk sorry. Rule Two. Sorry."

Her face, normally so very controlled, dropped a little in shock. Bruce glanced up, and Hulk looked down at him. A mammoth hand slowly reached over to place itself on top of his, resting on Hulk's forearm.

"Well done," Bruce whispered, and squeezed. Hulk gave him a small smile.

"Be safe," Hulk added.

Natasha shook her head dumbly, before pulling together her professional, glossy demeanour once again. "Thank you, Hulk," she said softly, and disappeared out of the door as silently as she had entered.

"Well that was, uh, illuminating," Clint commented dryly. "See ya, Jade Jaws. Don't have too much fun without me!"

"Shooty Bird be good," Hulk growled. "Remember promise. No going high. No Hulk to catch you."

"Damn, you really are Banner. He's a total killjoy as well," Clint said, and saluted jauntily before following his partner.

Cheeky bloody assassins!

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and waited for the world to make sense. Then he remembered that this was unlikely to happen, considering that his name was still Bruce Banner and this was his goddamned life.

"What was that all about?" he asked Hulk, who picked up Bruce's hand from atop his forearm and studied the palm with a dark frown. Bruce's fingers were prodded and his hand turned over as Hulk pretended not to hear.

"Why Tasha and Shooty Bird going?" Hulk asked innocently.

"Didn't you hear me?"

Hulk shrugged and poked at Bruce's thumb. "Not important. Why Tasha and Shooty Bird going? Keep Bruce safe. Why? Who tries hurt Bruce?" A dangerous fire leapt into the green eyes.

Shit. It was fruitless trying to lie to Hulk. He'd at least learned that lesson. "Someone from the past," Bruce said, and the dreadful lump in his stomach from breakfast was back. "Not Ross, though. It's someone else. I don't know if you remember Sterns. The scientist who talks too much?"

Hulk made a 'pah' sound with his lips, eyes rolling. "Talky small man. Machines. Hulk comes out, and the talky small man puts Hulk back into the small places."

"Well, you sure remember him at least," Bruce said, and watched his hand get toyed with some more. Hulk seemed fascinated with comparing their hands. They were certainly similar – the same lines, the same whorls and patterns, even the same old scar on the heel of the palm from a broken beer bottle. "He's done something with his blood to make it like ours. He's sort of like us now."

"Like scaly big man?" Hulk's eyes blazed in utter fury, and Bruce hurried to reassure him.

"No, no! Not like that. He's like us, but different. Not big. Just very, very smart. And his head has gone all big, and he's turned himself green, like Hulk."

"Green like Hulk." Hulk subsided, frowning thunderously. "Hnnnnmmph. Smart talky small man. But Bruce is smart, smart, smart. Bruce is smartest there is."

"Aren't you surprisingly good for the ego," Bruce said, smiling. "Apparently he's done something with our blood to make himself as smart as he possibly can. I don't know if we're a match for him anymore."

Hulk rolled his eyes. "Bruce smarter than talky small man. Bruce still stupid, though. Hulk knows Bruce smarter than talky small man, even if talky small man has a big head."

"Well, thank you for the compliment," Bruce said wryly, thinking that once upon a time his 'smarts' had not exactly been cause for celebration – and thus Hulk was born. "Anyway, that's where Natasha and Clint are going. They're going to find the green man with the big head, and they'll make sure he can't hurt either one of us."

"No-one hurts Hulk," he snorted contemptuously. Then he looked down at Bruce far more seriously. "Hulk protects Bruce. Always, always."

"I know." Bruce sighed, and looked down at their hands, huge and small, green and pink, twining and intertwining in those soft self-soothing touches. It was a pattern of behaviour as old as his earliest memory. It was the desperate attempt at comfort of a small boy swept up in the drunken rages of Brian Banner; it had been perfected during anxious, sleepless nights curled in a cold and foreign bed. They both had it. Not that any more proof of their sameness was needed. "I know you will."

"Bruce worried."

"Yes."

"Hulk here."

"I know. You always are." Bruce leaned his head against Hulk's rock-solid bicep. "Hulk?"

"Hmmmngh."

"If we could, would you want to be put back together?"

Hulk started violently, nearly dislodging Bruce. Then he snarled, his lips peeling back from his teeth dangerously. "No trapping Hulk!"

Bruce shook his head, feeling so, so tired. And so old. "No. We'd share. And we'd work something out so that we could still talk, somehow – video or something. But would you want to?"

Hulk turned his head to face Bruce fully, his brows tightly pulled together and a look of indecision flickering over his brutal face. "Don't know."

"Me neither," Bruce mumbled, and buried his face in warm, familiar green skin. "Me neither."


So... *whistles* I hope you enjoyed it!

HULK HUG ALL REVIEWERS!