Bruce rolled onto his side to instinctively check the clock on his nightstand. 3:12 am. His natural reaction was to return back to sleep, but his grumbling stomach was begging for food. He knew that a very early breakfast would help him feel normal again. As Bruce left the comfort of his bed, he tried to recall his day. He hulked out-that was the key highlight. Then he vaguely recalled Tony escorting him back home. From there, Bruce collapsed into his bed wearing the surprisingly comfortable Hulk pants. The dirt blended into his skin served as a reminder that he'd need to wash his sheets after eating. Bruce let his toaster get to work on a bagel while he grabbed a box of cereal and helped himself to a large bowl.

While his linen bed sheets and pants were being washed, Bruce took a long shower. He needed time to think, but not about the Hulk's newest costume or his attacking one of Tony's suits. His mind was fixated on Natasha's anti-romance speech. He was worried she was falling for him. It was a conceited assumption, but he couldn't help but feel that she cared too much. Natasha's fear of letting him in was bringing him back to his withdrawn state following the gamma incident. Bruce completely closed himself off from Betty in an effort to keep her safe. But he was weak. Bruce needed her more than anything. He punched the tiled wall to his left as hot droplets rained down on him. Natasha pointed out that he seemed to be doing well on the Betty front, but he wasn't. He missed her, and he didn't think that would ever change.

Bruce ended his shower once the water started to run cold. He changed into an old shirt and sweatpants to get his bed made. The warm and freshly laundered sheets suddenly made his eyelids grow heavy. He wound up returning to bed where he slept until after seven.

Natasha had left several calls that went unanswered. She contemplated leaving messages, but every time she heard the beep, she abruptly ended the call. Calling Tony to ask how their friend was would've made the inventor suspicious. She knew he was sensing something had conspired between her and Bruce, and she didn't want his nose in her business. Bruce's lack of a response was only fueling her growing concern. After Bruce's Hulk-out, he was completely drained. The man slept through a blaring Metallica song (Tony thought it would be a funny way to mess with him), and he could barely keep himself together long enough to get back into his own room. Natasha decided to go on a necessary jog to Stark Tower before her routine gym trip.

"Dr. Banner?" JARVIS requested.

Bruce had been lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling when the voice resounded over the intercom. "Yes?"

"Ms. Romanoff requests that you answer her calls."

"Oh," he breathed. "Sorry, I've been ignoring my phone." He rolled onto his side to grab his device. There were six missed calls, all from her. "Wait, did she call you?"

"She is downstairs," JARVIS confirmed. "And leaving as we speak."

Bruce bolted upright. "C-can you tell her to wait?" He hurried to find a pair of casual pants.

"She says she has errands to tend to," the program answered.

"So she left?" He froze with his pants halfway up his thighs.

"She has left the building."

Bruce fumbled with his zipper and rushed to slip his shoes on. "Elevator!" he shouted as he ran for the door. "Please." Bruce darted out of his home and ran towards the open elevator doors. As he descended to the main floor, he took deep ragged breaths as his lungs burned and his heart raced. The sprinting continued the second he was freed from the steel box. Bruce looked to his left, then right, ignoring the startled faces from the passerby as he did a quick double take. After a third glance to his right, he spotted a familiar red head of hair nearing the end of the street. Panting, Bruce watched her cross to the opposite sidewalk. He genuinely wanted to chase after her, but his knees ached and his heart felt ready to burst from his chest. After a deep breath, he trudged back inside. If his head was on correctly, he would've stayed inside and given her a call.

"I'm terribly sorry, Doctor," JARVIS apologized.

Bruce weakly smiled to no one in particular. "It's my fault. I'm not thinking straight today."

"Might I suggest resting?" the program suggested. "Your breathing and heart rate have escalated beyond a steady rate."

Bruce nodded and chuckled. "I will, thank you, Jarvis." He returned to his floor of the tower and helped himself to some orange juice and an apple before catching up with the day's news. During a commercial break, Bruce went to grab his phone. Natasha had left him with several missed calls, but not a single voice message. He attempted to give her a call, but there was no answer. Bruce slipped his phone into his pocket and decided to take a trip to the lab. For once, he had the space all to himself. JARVIS informed him that Tony was still fast asleep. Bruce decided to start his workday off by reviewing footage from yesterday's adventure. An hour into his work, Natasha called.

Bruce would have answered the call after the first ring, but his trembling hand nearly dropped the device as he brought it to his ear. "Natasha, hi!"

"Hey."

For someone who left him several calls and took the time to visit, she sounded far from enthusiastic. "Jarvis told me to call. I mean, I would've called you on my own, just…"

"You needed your rest," she replied. "I understand."

"Is that why you called?"

"Most of the reason," she admitted. "You were out cold for the ride home. Thought you'd wake up when Stark started blasting Metallica, but no."

Bruce laughed. "I was exhausted. Sorry if that worried you."

"It didn't really."

The lack of emotion in her voice made it hard for him to judge if she was lying or not. "Natasha…" There was a long pause that made him certain that she hung up on him. "What do you see in a mess like me?" he breathed.

"You're not a mess."

Natasha's answer startled him.

"You're a little broken," she shrugged. "But we all are."

"You, too?" Bruce quietly wondered.

"Especially me," Natasha agreed.

"You hide it well."

"Can't let your weaknesses show, Banner. Makes you vulnerable," she divulged.

"Weaknesses make us human," he corrected.

"Do they?"

He readjusted his glasses against the bridge of his nose. "For me they do."

"Still won't risk letting my guard down," she answered. "Look at Ross-he acts so high and mighty, but the second you bring his daughter up, he's a wreck."

Bruce took a moment to breathe. "Is he still a wreck?"

Natasha hummed. "He told me something the other day."

He could only imagine what Ross had in for him. Death sentences, inhumane tortures…

"He had a grave made for Betty."

His muscles tensed at Natasha's reply. That was the very last thing he expected to hear.

"I can give you the address," she offered. "Unless it's too soon."

Bruce flexed his fingers as he took a seat in his leather desk chair. "I…I'd like that. Please." He reached into his pocket for a tablet pen and approached a monitor. Bruce jotted down the address Natasha recited on a touch screen and emptily stared at his sloppy penmanship.

"Bruce?"

He tucked the pen behind his ear and sighed.

"You aren't going right now, are you?"

Bruce gravitated back towards his chair and sat. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Do you want me to come?" She didn't feel right intruding, but Bruce had her concerned. Natasha felt that she took him straight back to square one, in which Bruce was a hopeless and sulking mess.

"I…" He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No. That's fine. I'm fine."

"Sorry for springing that on you… Better to know now, right?"

Bruce sank back in his seat, gripping his phone close to his ear. "Yeah." His answer lacked the confidence it needed. Now he had an opportunity to say goodbye to Betty. He needed closure. "You're right. You really are," he hopefully added.

"Good," she breathed. "Glad I can be of service."

"You've been nothing but helpful," Bruce reassured. "Natasha? If you'd like…feel free to join."

"I'd feel like I'm in your way."

"No." He shook his head. "No, of course not. You should come. I want you to."

"That won't feel awkward for you?" Natasha snorted.

"Betty would've liked you," he promised. "Honestly, Natasha…" He had a deeper reason for her company, but that reason could wait one more day. With his luck, the thing he wanted to say would drive her away. "I appreciate your company."

"How about ten?" Natasha asked.

Bruce nodded. "Ten. That works."

"I'll drive."

"If you're okay with that… then, thank you." Her end of the line grew suspiciously quiet. "Natasha?" He pulled his phone away to find that she had hung up. Bruce sighed and slipped the device into his pocket. As he resumed working, his mind fixated on Betty's grave.

He hated cemeteries.

His earliest and only memory of one stemmed from when he was seven years old. The air was cold, and the sky a dark grey, typical for an early December in Ohio. Bruce remembered everything about that day. The sixteen gravestones he walked by, the leaves crunching under his ill-fitting dress shoes, his Aunt's sobs as she squeezed his hand…

"I'm not a big fan of these places, either," Natasha commented. That was a lie. She didn't have any traumatic experiences with them. She didn't have parents or grandparents buried in one, and even if she did, why bother spending quiet time with a block of stone and a bag of bones? What would she talk about? How she was abandoned and driven straight to hell? That's what her dearly forgotten parents would've loved to hear…

"I'm fine." Bruce gripped the bouquet of multi-coloured daisies in his hand and stared at his feet as he walked. He wondered if Thaddeus would trash his offering to Betty during his next visit to see his daughter.

"It's this next one." Natasha trailed ahead and stopped at a marble stone set into the ground. She glanced over to Bruce as he froze at her side. "I'll give you a moment." She stepped forward, but Bruce was quick to stop her.

"Stay." His voice was quiet as he knelt to display his offering. "You can stay." The pads of his fingers traced over the engraving of Betty's name.

Natasha watched Bruce's back as he awkwardly hunched over the grave.

"You remind me of her, Natasha," Bruce spoke up. "You're both strong, respectable women."

"Looks like you attract a type, Doc," she teased.

He smiled. "I needed her, I really did. She was strong, and I was weak. So weak…" He ran a hand through his curls. "I could've saved her…"

"Bruce," Natasha callously warned. "Don't do this to yourself."

"I couldn't save her." His fingers clenched into a tight fist. "I'm weak." He dropped down on both knees and found himself clawing at a fresh patch of grass. "I've always been weak."

"Bruce!" Natasha hissed.

"I couldn't save her, I-I couldn't save my mother…I could've saved her…" His voice faltered, interrupted by a sob.

He remembered that day in early December. Even at age seven, Bruce knew that his early Christmas "vacation" to his aunt's was a permanent escape.

"Don't tell your father, Bruce."

As if Bruce wanted that man being with them on Christmas. He recalled helping his mother carry their bags to the car, but little Bruce halted when he smelled that unholy stench of cognac as he neared.

Bruce should've saved her.

There was a woman's scream, then a blow to the head to shut her up. Young Bruce could only watch like a fly on the wall as one smack led to another. He remembered his mother's pained cries, but he didn't do a single thing-he didn't even try. His small body was frozen, terrified of receiving a hit of his own. One more bruise to add to his collection…

Then his mother became quiet, and her body eerily still as red pooled around her head. In that moment, it was Bruce's turn to scream…

"Dammit!" he swore as tears rolled down his cheeks. "G-goddammit!" Bruce wiped at his eyes as Natasha knelt beside him.

"You're okay," she murmured. Her hand reached out to pat his back, but Bruce jerked away.

"You don't know, Natasha!" he growled.

She wordlessly rose to her feet and backed away. Her hand instinctively reached for the phone in her pocket. She needed back-up if Bruce was going to lose his cool.

"I'm the reason my own mother died!" he hissed behind clenched teeth.

"Bruce…"

He lurched forward, hugging himself as he broke out into a fit of violent sobs.

"Bruce." Unless sadness was going to trigger something, she assumed he'd be fine. She carefully approached him and dropped to one knee. Natasha had no words for him. All she could do was wrap her arms around his neck and hope he wouldn't lash out.

He felt her arms around him and he fought to control any oncoming outbursts. "I…I'm…s"

An apology? Natasha almost wanted to laugh. "Shhh…" She felt his body seize beneath her touch as his head rested against hers. "Shhh," she continued to soothe.

Bruce gingerly touched her arm as his eyes rested on Betty's headstone. She was gone, as was his late mother, and nothing he could do would change that. "I'm sorry…" he breathed.

Natasha ran her fingers through his curls, still at a loss for words. Relationships were difficult. Whether a romance or family matters, they were complicated. Nothing would change that.

"Ahh…" Bruce rubbed his swollen eyes as his breathing steadied. "I'm sorry."

Natasha gave him a final pat on the back before breaking their embrace.

He reached into his pocket for a tissue and blew his nose. Bruce knew they would come in handy. "This…really isn't how I imagined today would go." He stuffed the crumbled tissue back into his pocket and stood. "I'd like a minute," he said under his breath. Natasha walked away without a word, leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and recalled his mother's face, then Betty's. His fingers laced together as he bowed his head. He began to mentally recite a prayer that he remembered verbatim despite not having heard it since he was a child. The prayer finished with an apology. Bruce began to wonder if every woman in his life was getting tired of his unnecessary apologizing. He wanted to think that his mother and Betty would smile, but the thought quickly ended as fresh tears formed. Bruce forced himself to leave and seek out Natasha. She was standing by a tree, far away from an arrangement of headstones. As he neared, she lifted her head with a weak smile.

"You want coffee?" she offered.

Bruce shrugged as they walked side by side towards the gated entrance. "I think I'd rather go home." He never expected that this visit would reopen the wounds that the loss of his mother left him with.

"Okay," Natasha agreed.

They trudged along in silence. Bruce could only blame himself for the awkward tension. "I really am grateful you joined me," he piped up. "I…I didn't expect to fall apart like that…Might've been worse if you weren't there."

Natasha took his hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Glad I could be there for you."

Bruce caught himself gripping her hand as they walk. His sweaty palm loosened his grasp as they neared her car. "You know, Natasha…" His reason for letting her accompany him came to mind as they entered the car and buckled up. "Yesterday I had this idea that…" he paused to catch his breath. Bruce couldn't bear crying in front of her for a second time today. "That you coming with me might… put things into perspective. About us, I mean."

Natasha was hesitant to speak. "You mean when I'm standing over your grave?" She started the car and let the A/C run.

His lips formed a straight line. "When that day comes, will you regret not giving us a chance?"

Natasha glanced up at his face. His eyes were red and his lower lip was trembling as their gazes locked. "We're gonna get hurt, Bruce," she gently warned.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "That can't possibly feel any worse than the pain I've already been through."

"And what if I get hurt?"

The question left him terrified. Hurting her was a very real possibility, and he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt her. "We call it off?" he wagered.

Natasha raised the corner of her lip. "Never took you for a gambler."

Bruce's stare hardened. A relationship was a risk, one that could very well lead to Natasha being harmed. But then he thought of Betty. They took a chance, one that worked out better than anticipated. "You're worth taking a risk for."

Natasha grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "Mention 'love' and it's all over."

He placed a hand over hers and nodded. She rewarded him with a kiss that helped eased his depressed mood.

Natasha ended the kiss with a soft laugh. "This isn't the place to settle a romance," she jokingly commented.

Bruce turned his head to remind himself that they were parked before an endless spread of graves. "Romantic…" he muttered.

She snorted. "Let's get some coffee."

He nodded, eyes focused on her face as she began to drive.

"Maybe even have dinner tonight," Natasha continued.

"I can make us something," he shrugged.

"Your place, then?" she flashed him a sly smirk.

"Sure," he nodded.

Natasha laughed. "You don't seem too thrilled about having me to yourself," she commented.

"Sorry," he breathed. "It's been a long day."

Her features softened as she briefly met his stare. "If you ever need me, I'm here for you, Bruce."

"I appreciate that more than you know…" He lowered his head and folded his hands in his lap. "It's strange. I haven't thought about my mother for so long…"

Natasha was afraid to ask anything and potentially trigger something.

He breathed in and slowly exhaled. The drive to the coffee shop was a quiet one, but Bruce wasn't in a chatty mood.

"I don't want handholding," Natasha advised as they sat with their drinks.

"Oh…" He stirred two cups of cream into his coffee. "No-that's okay. We don't have to."

"If we can keep this a secret… That'd be ideal," Natasha continued. "You know, paparazzi and all."

Bruce nodded in agreement. "I'm terrified of being bombarded. That's a big red flag."

"But, you know, alone time's always fun." The sly grin was back, this time with an added wink.

Bruce took a long sip of his coffee.

Natasha quietly laughed. "Getting shy on me, Doc?"

He watched her with a solemn expression. "We can't," he lowered his voice, "go too far."

Natasha admired his boyish behaviour.

"The other guy."

She arched a brow.

"I feel him coming when I get…overexcited."

Natasha noticed his cheeks visibly redden. "Wow," she mouthed. "Didn't see that coming."

"I'm sorry."

She took a sip of her drink. "It's not your fault. We don't have to have sex."

Bruce's face grew hotter. "That's all you wanted?"

"Shallow, Banner!" she scoffed.

His eyes grew wide as she gave him a glare. "N-no, I'm sorry! I swear I-"

Natasha burst out laughing. Bruce looked like he was on the verge of having a heart attack. "I'm kidding."

"That's mean," he grumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

"You're fun to mess with," she teased.

Bruce shot her a frown.

"We can cuddle. That okay?"

He smiled. "The Black Widow cuddles?"

Natasha felt accomplished in making him smile. "It's a secret."

His grin widened. "Your secret's safe with me," he swore, raising his Styrofoam cup.

"Good to know," she winked, tapping her cup against his.