Vital Communication Chapter 19
Disclaimer: We're still in the same place gang, and this one starts out as a belly-button episode, ie the mindscape. Introspective stuff. I'm also making up a lot of stuff, so bear that in mind. No trauma warnings. Warnings for cursing though. In other news - wow, nearly a month! Been awhile. Thanks for sticking with me, and not sending out hordes with torches and pitchforks.
Bruce cleaned up the fire pit, and prepared a fresh fire, the supplies necessary just materializing within easy reach beside him. When he finished, he stood and went to the house. It was in sad shape, shingles on the ground, the shuttered window broken. Even the large barn door was battered and cracked. He touched the squat little building, sighing.
"Things are so different now, aren't they?", he said, knowing the Hulk would hear him.
"Banner? Scared," Hulk said softly, which, for the mindscape, was pretty quiet. He peered through the window at Bruce, eyes clearly showing the emotion. The image Bruce had was of a much reduced Hulk. Quite literally, shrunken in on himself, but with the softened features of a pre-teen. Hulk's shoulders were rounded, as if he was afraid to draw attention to himself, afraid to know if someone was about to strike.
"I know. I can't even promise we'll be all right. Betty," his heart ached just to think about her, "She hurt us, more than physically."
Hulk opened the door to his house. "How fix?", he wanted to know, as he stood in the doorway.
"Can you come out to the fire pit? We can sit, have s'mores?" Bruce cajoled. S'mores were a favorite treat that they sorely missed while traveling the world. In moments of peace, they spent Bruce's meditations making the sticky, chocolatey treat. Bruce moved over to the pit, lighting the prepared fire. Hulk came out of the house, small and afraid. He shuffled uneasily to his stump and looked at it.
"It's okay Hulk, we can just sit on the ground. Easier to make the s'mores," Bruce said, indicating the ground next to him. He had a pair of sticks piercing 4 marshmallows held over the fire, roasting. He handed one of the sticks to Hulk, who carefully grasped the slim piece of oak.
"What do now?", Hulk wanted to know, as he pulled the toasted mallows off and stuck them between halves of a chocolate bar. Hulk ignored the graham crackers. Bruce had no immediate answer as he thought about the problem.
They made and enjoyed a few treats before Bruce found what he wanted to say.
"Trust," he started to say.
"Tin Man?" Hulk wondered, around a mouthful of toasted marshmallow.
"If you think so. I have no problem with it," Bruce hedged. He knew he felt something more for Tony, but felt it would remain unrequited. Tony had Pepper, and to the best of Bruce's knowledge, hadn't been acting like a wild party animal since the invasion. Which told Bruce Tony was attempting monogamy. Not that he didn't know whether they'd welcome an open relationship to include him, or that he'd poach from Pepper. Bruce couldn't even tell what his feelings truly were, beyond a deep gratitude for trusting and believing in him, when no one else had.
"Don't want to run," Hulk said, matter-of-factly, making another s'more.
"I'm tired of that too, Hulk. But things are different now. Betty hurt us, not just physically."
"Heart hurts."
"Exactly," Bruce sighed, stretching before the metaphorical fire. He wasn't sure how they'd trust anyone now.
"Sleep now," Hulk said, yawning mightily. Bruce laughed, a soft, contented sound, and banked the fire. The pair of them curled up next to each other, like siblings, or near enough, and faded into the deeper reached of the unconscious for true rest.
When next they woke up, a swift inhalation told them that Tony wasn't present, but that Hawkeye was. They'd fought together during the invasion, but otherwise didn't know each other. Barton spoke, "I know you're awake, Doctor. Stark will be back in a few moments. His driver showed up with some of his stuff. Then he needed to eat something or Nat was going to have words with him."
Bruce shifted uneasily in his bed, his odd colored eyes blearily checking out the room.
"Just as an FYI, Ashwhite has you on a pain killer. So if you are having trouble focusing, that's why. Personally, hate the way they make me feel, but they're necessary sometimes," Barton continued. Bruce grunted. The information on their own condition was welcome, but the personal info just confused them. Barton lapsed into silence, eyes on his hands resting tensely in his lap.
The last time Clint had had to deal with something like this, he'd had Coulson to lean on. And his experience had come at the hands of someone who had wanted him dead, not a purported loved one having a mental breakdown. Though, he sighed mentally, dragged back into his distant past. Trickshot, his brother, being left for dead. Maybe? He lifted his head, gaze settling on the injured man before him.
"Doctor Banner, we've not really been introduced. I'm Clint Barton, and I am also a victim of torture," inwardly Clint cringed. He sounded like an AA member. Bruce turned those odd eyes on him, pinning him with a steely gaze.
"Birdman hurt?", he said, that deep, gravelly voice reminding Clint of the Hulk, if that creature could whisper, anyway.
"I have been. My brother, people I trusted. And in the course of the job. I've been fucked up a long time because of it. But," Clint takes a moment, runs a hand through his lengthening blond hair, "I have Nat now. Had another person, but he's gone now," his facial features tighten. Bruce can tell he's sad. "Without their help, I wouldn't be here. Without their love, well, you know, I'm sure." Bruce nods, they do know.
The door to the room opens then, allowing Tony to shuffle in, subdued.
"Stark, you look like shit. What happened?", Clint was surprised. He'd thought Tony would end up crashing, either by choice, or by force of Natasha. Bruce growled at Clint's tone, on the defensive for Tony.
"Just tired, Legolas." Tony was hiding something, Clint figured, but knew the engineer wouldn't discuss right there.
Bruce looked at Tony, questioning his appearance. "Tin Man need sleep. Birdman make Tin Man sleep," he ordered.
Clint laughed, "Good idea, but he refuses to leave you alone, Doc. Nat's helping Sitwell, Rogers is with Fury, so it's just us."
Tony frowned, he didn't want to be manipulated away from Bruce. "I can manage, I don't need sleep." Both of the others snorted in disbelief.
"Tell you what? I'll get a cot in here for Stark, since he's so damned determined to remained attached," Clint offered.
Bruce became alarmed, "NO! Blood danger if Tin Man stays!" He ineffectually thrashed in the bed, as though attempting to withdraw from any hint of casual touch. They couldn't remember the safety regulations. They needed to.
"Bruce! Stop!", Tony called, trying to calm him down. He moved to the bed and grabbed at one flailing hand, "Quit it! You'll hurt yourself worse." Bruce focused on Tony's face, finding peace in the warm, chocolate gaze. "The Geiger was put in place to keep a check on the background radiation. Yes, you have open wounds, but the bleeding has stopped. I think Ashwhite has claimed the danger to be minimal, or we'd all be in bunny suits," Tony explained, waving away Bruce's concerns.
"No stay. Too much danger," they tried again. Why wouldn't Tin Man LISTEN?
Clint went to find Ashwhite, and get the final word, realizing that might be the only way to calm Bruce down. Tony looked down at Bruce and simply said, "Fix it. Transform so you heal, and we can all go home." Bruce flinched, it wasn't that easy.
Ashwhite made his appearance, Clint behind him with a collapsible camp cot, small pillow and a blanket.
"I understand there's an issue over having one of your teammates stay?" the medic directs at Bruce, who nods, staring at the PA. Ashwhite solves the issue by going to the melamine counter and turning off the Geiger counter.
"The levels have never gone above background since we got the bleeding stopped. If someone handled your blood, had their own open wounds, or somehow inhales or ingests it, THEN it's a problem. Just being here, with open, non-bleeding wounds? They are fine. Mr. Stark is right though. A transformation would heal all of this," the tall man goes on to say. Bruce grumbles, but can't otherwise refute the man at that point. Tony grins triumphantly and takes the cot and blanket from Clint to set up behind Bruce's bed.
Ashwhite looks over Bruce before he leaves. "If you wondered, no one here wants to lock you up. The Avengers won't allow it, for one. And neither will I. Also, we're not doing anything with any bodily fluids or the medical waste aside from proper disposal. You are as safe as I can make you," he promises the physicist.
"Good to know," Bruce growls, shifting uneasily. Tony comes back from setting up the cot.
"So, sleep over at SHIELD. Who'da thunk?" his voice is tired, but he's trying for levity. Bruce's eyes crinkle in the corners in appreciation.
"Go to sleep, Tin Man. Still here, always here," Bruce told him. Tony grunted, but obeyed. Clint watched the genius engineer get settled, and leaves with Ashwhite. He's got the others to update.
Serious AN for a moment – yeah the radiation thing? False. I modified it for this story, because well, then I'd have to go back and fix the fuck-ups in the previous chapters. I remember one fic where Bruce's wounds were covered in lead aprons. Uncomfortable, if you ask me (I hate wearing them just for an x-ray). I believe, that if there was a TRUE hazard, Bruce would have been in a biological lockdown, and the team and docs would be wearing bio-suits (bunny suits) just to get into the room with him. So that part is most definitely made up.