Vital Communication Chapter 22
Disclaimer: WARNING! Triggers abound in here. This chapter very specifically deals with how Bruce can be triggered into PTSD episodes – fear, lashing out, harming himself, etc. If you cannot deal, PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER. I cannot make that decision for you, only you can. I value my readers' health more than I value reviews and kudos. Please, don't read this if you are in a delicate place. You won't miss much by skipping the chapter, I promise. If you like, PM me, and I'll let you know about the parts that didn't involve Bruce at all.
Again, this whole chapter is under my usual trigger warnings. You know by now that my descriptions are intense. Please proceed with utmost caution.
Bruce rejoined the others the next morning at breakfast. He sat quietly, letting the sounds of the team filter and wash over him, reassure him that all was right with his world again. Except it wasn't, and he knew that. He just wondered where the line was, and when his teammates would abandon him as the broken liability he had become.
Natasha made him tea as soon as he appeared, earning her a small smile as he accepted the cup, careful not to touch, lest something rub off. He had claimed a seat in the kitchen, along the bar, but with his back tucked to the wall to watch the others bustle about the room. They cheerfully, and not so cheerfully, got in each others' way making coffee, cooking food, and standing in front of the fridge and stove.
"So, a lunch meeting to finalize the DC trip?", Steve asked Natasha and Clint over orange juice and eggs, confirming yesterday's plan.
"Yeah, sounds like an idea. We have a gym session this morning," Clint agreed for both of them, forking up scrambled and a bit of home fries. Natasha simply smiled her acceptance as she nibbled on buttered toast.
"You'll be taking a Stark jet, right?" Tony offered from his spot by the coffee maker, waiting impatiently for the newest pot to finish brewing. He looked like he'd been up all night, yet oddly well rested. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but to Bruce's eye, he appeared freer somehow, lighter.
"Be easier, I think. Can't use SHIELD resources at this point," Clint responded, making a pointed gesture with his fork. No one sees Bruce flinch at the mention of spy agency, well, no one but everyone does.
"Good. I'll call the airport and make sure one's fueled and ready to go," Pepper contributed, finishing her fruit laden yogurt and binning the container. She put the spoon in the sink and nudged Tony away from the coffee long enough to fill a travel mug, and caress his cheek in fond farewell. "I'm off to Malibu tonight as well. My assistants will send someone up to pack my things in the next few days, so don't freak out, all right?" she told him, reassuring him gently.
"No rush, even with strangers all over the penthouse," he murmured, leaning into her touch and letting his eyes slide closed. It kept the pain he knew was there from being broadcast to the rest of the team.
"Even so, a clean break," Pepper confirmed, thumb idly moving over his cheek bone. The others politely ignore their exchange. Bruce idly wondered at the scene, but eventually slipped back into ennui.
"Don't like it," Tony pouted. She smiled, fitting the lid onto her mug.
"I know. But the faster it is done, the easier it will be for you to focus where you'll be needed most." Their joint gazes strayed to Bruce, sitting listlessly in his corner, ignoring his rapidly cooling tea.
"Yeah, you're right," he sighed. No one knew how Bruce was ultimately going to react to his ordeal.
Eventually Bruce wandered back to own room, pleading a desire to rest and be left alone.
Days passed and Bruce drifted through several of them, doing nothing aside from existing. He finally seemed to snap out of his fugue and wanted to dive into a biochem project. The team is scattered. Natasha, Clint, and Steve are still in DC. Pepper is in Malibu or jetting around the world on SI business. Thor is on another world entirely, no one is sure it's Asgard. And Tony? Tony is currently in a board room, convincing a group of his engineers and managers to move forward on his arc reactor energy conversion project.
Bruce is on Level 6, one of the R&D departments, absently moving through one of the labs, too focused on his project. He claimed an open desk and settled in to work for a few hours. This particular project was an exploration of cybernetic connections in prosthetics. Bruce needed access to earlier Stark Tech work in nanotechnology. While there, he didn't notice his coworkers arriving to pick up their day after lunch. All the technicians were surprised to find him there.
The lab supervisor approached him, to check if he had everything he needed. "Dr. Banner?", she called, heels clicking across the linoleum.
He started, surprised out of his concentration. "What? Yes?", he stuttered, spinning in place on the lab stool.
He looked up at the lab supervisor, a young woman of average height, brown hair pulled neatly back into an updo wrap, brown eyes soft, yet intense behind the required safety glasses. The lab coat covered a bright blue top, and black pencil skirt. Her ID badge hung off the coat pocket, proclaiming her name as Barbara Reynolds. He froze, face taking on the classic 'deer in the headlights' look. The new woman had a clipboard grasped in one hand, a gentle smile on her face. Her free hand was held out before her, in a bid for a proper introduction.
Bruce sat frozen, heart hammering in his chest, breath stuttering in his lungs. Betty got free? Came back to finish him off?
No!
Not possible!
Hulk stirred in the back of his mind, reacting to the flood of adrenaline crashing through his host body. Bruce's eyes swirled green as they both made an attempt to process all the stressful input.
"No," he whispered, fearful. He shrank away from the woman, falling off the stool. He hits the floor, briefly stunned before he can scramble away, crab walking before he can right himself. Continuously moving away from the source of danger.
Meanwhile, up 10 floors in a boardroom where Tony listens to a project manager drone on useless about the reactor's projected cost overages before it begins to save money. JARVIS breaks through the meeting, making most of those present jump in shock. No regular employee knew about JARVIS, much less that he now had full access and control of the Tower.
"Sir, you are needed immediately on R&D Level 6. Code Jade," the AI is implacable. The manager gapes like a landed fish when Tony practically teleports out of his chair and through the door. The chair is flung backwards so hard, it strikes the wall, and rebounds, rolling after Tony like a lost duckling.
"Carry on, or don't. This is way more important," he hastily flings over his shoulder as he bolts for the elevator. "JARVIS, priority override, Stark, Alpha Niner 1 1 Zed," he called out, passing startled interns that could only flatten themselves against the off white walls of the hall.
"At once sir," the disembodied voice scared them even more. They weren't prepare for a Star Trekkian computer at work. Tony reached the open elevator, slid to a stop inside, palms touching the opposite wall as a brace, and stood impatiently for the transfer to the R&D floor. JARVIS had control again, as he had done for that earlier moment. Tony realized he needed to consider a rapid response elevator just for Bruce and the rest of the team. He'd have to look into it, when things were calmer. If he remembered.
The elevator door opened as soon as JARVIS pulled the elevator car to a halt, allowing Tony to rocket out of the box like a pinball shot at the start of a game. JARVIS had managed to clear the floor, something Tony was grateful for as he ran for the lab. But why on Earth had Bruce picked the far end that day?
Tony eventually found Bruce barricaded in a back office of the lab floor, the desk knocked over on its side, papers scattered everywhere like large snowflakes. Bruce was distinctly 'green around the gills' but hadn't completed the change. Tony tried to open the office door, but it wouldn't budge. The knob turned, but he couldn't force the door to move.
"JARVIS, override the lock on R&D Level 6, office belonging to...Mick Anderson," Tony demanded, voice harsh with impatience, reading the name stenciled on the door. He heard the mag lock click, confirming that is was disengaged, and tried the door again. It still wouldn't budge. "Bruce?", he called, trying to get the physicist's attention, "Bruce, it's Tony. You okay?"
"Go away" rumbled through the door. The voice was too deep to be just Bruce's. Tony swore he'd get to the bottom of that.
"Damn, need to get in there. JARVIS, access the security feeds and tell me what's blocking the door!", Tony testily commanded his AI.
"Accessing," the slightly accented voice replied, "It appears Dr. Banner has blocked the door with a chair under the knob, sir. You'll have to break the glass to force your way inside." JARVIS had doubled the output on the broadcast, informing both his creator, and the doctor of what the next move would have to be.
"Okay, okay. Bruce? Just, sit tight, man. Let me find something to do this with," Tony had placed a hand flat on the glass, leaned his forehead there for just a moment. His mind raced, trying to figure out how to help Bruce in the quickest, easiest way possible.
On the other side, tucked into the furthest corner he could shove his warped and changing body, Bruce ducked his head, shivered. He groaned, and thunked his head hard against the wall, nearly concussing himself, almost completely lost in a sensory flashback. He fought for control, tried regulating his breathing. He rode the edge. A sword's edge, an atom bomb's edge.
Minutes drag like hours, like days, until...
CRASH
Bruce screamed, a throaty howl, as tempered glass shattered and rained down both sides of the door, like a hard, crystallized waterfall. He clawed the walls, on either side of his hiding spot, fingers easily digging through the drywall, but splitting the nails in the process.
"Bruce! It's okay. I'm right here, you're all right!", Tony called, repeating himself over and over, as he reached his arm through the narrow opening, scraping up against the loose bits of glass. Using his toes, he levered against the floor and bottom of the door to push on the chair, freeing it from the doorknob, and shoving it as far away as he could.
"JARVIS, call Ashwhite. If he can, get him here, now. If not, get his advice on how to help," Tony commanded, finally able to open the office door. He stepped inside, feet crunching across the glass on the floor. The Italian loafers he wore squeaked across the clear linoleum as Tony moved deeper into the spacious office. "Bruce? Hey, c'mon. It's all right. We need to get you out of here, Big Guy," Tony's voice was soft, and gentle as he tried to coax Bruce out from hiding.
Bruce jerked his head away, slamming it against the wall one more time, clamping his eyes tightly closed as Tony found and approached him. His hands reached up to protect his face, cupping over his eyes, fingertips digging into his brow. The broken nails gouged marks above his eyebrows. Blood welled up, but didn't quite drip as the marks began to immediately heal.
"It's okay Bruce. No one's going to hurt you here, I promise. Come here, give me your hand. That's it. Hey, look at me, okay? Eyes here. C'mon. Let's get you out of here," Tony rambled, hands grasping the physicist's own, gently tugging, grounding. Bruce clamped onto Tony's hands, tightly. Tony's eyes pinched at the pain, but he otherwise ignored it.
Bruce, with slightly green tinged skin, a little bulkier than normal muscles and body shape, and eyes a startling lime, followed Tony out of the corner. He let Tony encircle his body in a loose embrace, and they stood in the middle of the room for long minutes, just taking the time to return to normal.
Many long, drawn out minutes later, and Tony could tell Bruce's heart was slowing to normal. He rubbed slow circles on Bruce's right upper arm with his thumb, and murmured nonsense words. Bruce relaxed incrementally, but the green and size didn't fade.
"Do you need to Hulk out, Bruce?" Tony asked, voice barely audible. Bruce's head jerked violently side to side in denial. "Hey, there's space to do it safely. One of the garages in fact. Let's go down and you can have some fun," Tony said, leaning away from Bruce to look at his face. The eyes of lime were darkening to something of a grass green, an effect that Tony decided he could watch forever.
"Don't want to hurt anyone, or break anything," Bruce tried to explain, voice rough as though he'd been screaming for hours. It was the Hulk's bass rumble in Bruce's vocal cords. He'd have laryngitis before too long.
"Nope, you won't. It's just you and me on this floor, and JARVIS can make sure the elevator doesn't stop for anyone. As for the garage? Who cares about the cars? I can replace 'em! Hello, billionaire? C'mon, let's go pound some steel and fiberglass," Tony cajoled gently, tugging on Bruce's arms, hoping to lead the other man out of R&D and down to the garage he had in mind.
"Okay, we can go smash," Bruce stated simply. Hulk made the decision, tightening up the body's bulging muscles, straining the seams of his clothing even more. Tony was completely enthralled by the physiological changes that coursed through the scientist's body.
They slowly traversed the hallway, to the elevator held open by JARVIS. Tony kept up a steady stream of nonsense, just as he had when the team had rescued Bruce days ago. The ride to the basement garage was quick and quiet. And when they reach it, Bruce is gently nudged out of the elevator car with a quiet, "Go to it, Green Genes."
He takes that permission and explodes into the depths of the cavern, the shift of the transformation overtaking his normal form in seconds. Miraculously avoiding load bearing columns, Hulk just pummels the variety of cars and vans, and tosses chunks of steel and plastic while roaring at the top of his impressive lungs. Dozens of cars get warped and shattered in the ensuing chaos, and Tony couldn't be happier. The IROCS, and S series, are stripped to their component parts. The Boxsters make excellent projectiles aimed at the Mercedes 190Es. Tony leaned on the wall of the elevator car and laughed in manic delight at the chaos and destruction. JARVIS cataloged the whole thing, because Tony wanted to be able to watch it over and over again. He's glad he's had to upgrade the security features of the Tower, so that his AI controlled the whole thing. He should have had that at the beginning.
Hours later, Bruce carefully emerges from the expansive wreckage wrought amongst Tony's collection of modern vehicles. He's tired, sweaty, and looking a little pissed off. Tony stepped out of the shut off elevator to meet him.
"Dammit Tony," he rasped, limping through the destruction. His pants hang in tatters from his lean hips, shirt and shoes long gone.
Tony watched his approach, gauging his complete mood. The Hulk had retreated for the moment, leaving just the signs of Bruce. "Don't Bruce. This? Is nothing. I don't care. Let's go back upstairs and you can rest. Are you injured anywhere?", Tony dismissed the other man's concerns over the losses of the fleet while expressing the worry he had for the doctor.
"M'fine. God, I probably scared that poor girl," Bruce listed to lean on Tony once he reached the engineer's side. Tony wrapped a supporting arm around the physicist's shoulders.
"She'll be fine. Pepper gave her some paid time off, and we'll make sure she sees someone if she needs it," Tony explained as they reentered the elevator car for the trip back to the Avengers' levels.
Weeks later, on a stormy day, for once not generated by Thor,'s arrival Bruce was relaxing in the relative quiet of the penthouse living room. The rest of the team had decided on a movie that he just wasn't interested in, and Tony had offered the open space and near panoramic view as a place of peace of quiet. Bruce had brought tea and two of his current books, and lounged on the velvet couch like a somnolent bear. The huge floor to ceiling windows allowed the room to be bathed in the warm rays of the sun, and control from JARVIS shaded it on request. Bruce considered it an indulgent slice of heaven and privately wondered how to convince Tony to let him "rent" a piece of the floor and live up here permanently.
He avoided the main view, still charged with scenes of rebuilding, but the skyline was impressive nonetheless. He's deep in his book, ignorant of the world passing by and around the Tower, when voices startle him back to the present.
"Tony, you need to view these contracts, sign the top three and decide the next eight," echoed Pepper's voice, slightly stressed and anxious.
"Business hours are," Tony began his usual quip when he wanted to avoid paperwork. There was laughter threading his voice as he spoke.
"Don't you dare, Tony Stark!" Pepper laughed, the timbre of her voice relaxing into the sound. Tony's rich tenor chased her laughter. Bruce let his book fall to his chest, but didn't turn to greet them.
"Hey Bruce? Sorry to disturb your idyll, but Ms. Slave Driver here insists I see to these contracts," Tony announced as they got closer to the couch. The pair made their way to the breakfast bar to spread the files out.
"It's your place. I'm the interloper. Hi Pepper, how are you?", Bruce shifted on the couch to sit up and greet the others properly. He eyes them, only a little nervous.
He is startled by the dove gray coat hanging off the back of Pepper's bar chair. He feels his heart race, and the Hulk stir, but tamps it down. He knows he's breathing a little too rapidly, but soldiers on. He stands and goes over to the bar, but on the kitchen side, so he can't see that coat. That lab coat.
"Need me to get out of your way?", he offers, hoping they'll take him up on it. He knows something's different about their relationship, but hadn't asked Tony about it. Felt it was just too personal, and probably too raw to broach. He kept his eyes strictly on their faces as he waited for the dismissal he needed.
"Nah, this shouldn't take long. Hey, dinner?" Tony asked, a hopeful look on his face. He loved Bruce's cooking.
"What about the rest of the team?" Bruce countered. If he was going to be volunteered for cooking duty, maybe he could still get away from that damn coat, head down to the communal floor. That reminder. He scruffed a hand through his hair, becoming even more agitated.
Tony watched him out of the corner of his vision, taking in the pale complexion, flared nostrils and rapid breathing. The swirling color in the other man's irises behind the glasses. He considered the last few minutes, wondering what might have set off this reaction. When it comes to him, he nearly groaned out loud.
"Hey Pep, can we hang the coat up in the closet? I just had the carpet cleaned, don't need the rain water all over," Tony's lying, but as long as the coat gets moved, he doesn't care. He slid off his chair, blocking Bruce's view of the edge of Pepper's chair.
"What's that? Oh, fine Tony," Pepper responded, distracted, flipping through contracts, determining order of importance. Tony grabbed the coat, wrinkling the collar and strode swiftly toward the corridor near his private elevator. Hoping out of sight is definitely out of mind for Bruce, Tony goes back to the kitchen. He takes a couple of deep breaths before picking up where he left off.
"Anyway, dinner? The gang is on its own," Tony said, pulling himself into his seat again.
"Sure, I guess. Pepper, you staying?" Bruce asked. He turned to the fridge.
"Um," Pepper looked up, caught Tony's expression and the slight shake of his head, "No thanks, Bruce. I'll steal something from whatever the team gets."
"If you're sure? Tony, how about fish tacos?" Bruce queried, checking the refrigerator for ingredients. Finds salmon and a host of fresh veggies. He debates the merits of handmade tortillas and just decides to go with it. The distraction of cooking will settle him. He turned back to Tony, expecting an answer.
"Sure," Tony agreed. His eyes crinkled in pleasure that Pepper had caught on so quickly. Making an excuse to steal her pen, he squeezed her hand in appreciation. She just nodded.
The time it took Bruce to prepare the tacos was just enough for Pepper and Tony to complete their work. Tony leaned over close to Pepper and whispered in her ear, "Do him a favor, lose the coat next time."
Pepper looked at him, the question clear in her pale blue eyes. She knew something had happened, but hadn't caught the triggering episode.
"It resembles a lab coat. That's a thing now," Tony elucidates, fingers tapping against the reactor glowing softly under only a single layer of t-shirt.
She blinks, catching on, "Damn. Yes of course. That style? Or?"
"I think it may also be color association. Too close to white. And being female while wearing it or near it," Tony explained, hand idly dropping to the bar top.
"I'll try to remember," Pepper swore, a swift nod to emphasize the idea.
"All I can ask. Thanks babe, you're a doll," he told her, kissing her cheek. She smiled and slid off the chair to her feet.
"Bruce, I'll see you later!", she called, heading to the elevator. She grabbed her coat, but only folded it over her arm, and then pulled that arm out of the line of sight from the kitchen.
"Sure Pepper, next time, stay," Bruce returned, a small, warm smile on his face. He didn't watch her leave, focusing on plating the food and getting the tortillas out of the oven.
"Thanks Tony," he said, sitting down at the bar. Tony just made and ate his tacos, a small, contented smirk on his face.
Dinner was companionably quiet after that. As they cleaned up the small mess Bruce had made, Tony got an idea.
"Hey, let's go up to the family home for awhile. I've been considering a remodel to turn it into a secondary base. It'll also get us out of here, for the remodel that needs to start," his voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, as he took various dishes from Bruce and dried them to stack away again.
Bruce considered, washing and rinsing each dish and pan he'd used to create dinner. "It'd be to get out of the city for awhile," he allowed, settling even more. He finished the last dish, and handed it to Tony while turning to look at his friend.
"Good," Tony said, swiping at the bowl with a damp tea towel before setting it in the stack with the others. He turned to put them away in the cabinet, and said, "We'll leave in the morning, barring work."