Walking the Path Between Welcome and Exile (4/5)
Story information; Chapter One - Tony, Chapter Two - Natasha
Chapter Three - Clint, Chapter Four -- Thor
Chapter Five -- Steve
Chapter Five - Steve, Cont'd
JARVIS informed him that Steve was on his way to a kitchen, located on the floor below Bruce's room. Bruce wondered just how many kitchens there were in this place. Most of the tower was devoted to StarkIndustries offices and multiple other corporations who had their headquarters in the lower tower. The upper tower floors were all Tony's playground.
He found Steve looking through cupboards and laid the sketchpad down on the table.
Steve pulled out of can of chicken broth and studied it. “Hello, Doctor Banner. I told the others that I'd cook something for dinner. I hope they can tolerate what I know how to make.”
“I can give you a hand, if you like. I've worked in restaurants and learned to be a pretty good cook.”
“That would be swell,” Steve said, with a grin.
Bruce looked in the refrigerator and freezer, and took a quick survey of the cupboards.
“There's tons of food here. What are you in the mood to eat? American? Mexican? Indian?”
He carefully washed his hands, inspected his fingers and palms for any small unnoticed cuts. Steve watched him, curiosity splashed across his features.
“My blood is radioactive. But as long as I'm not bleeding, I can handle food safely,” Bruce said, answering Steve's unasked question.
They put their heads together and soon Bruce was defrosting steaks and soaking them in a marinade he whipped up, while Steve cut up vegetables for a salad.
“I looked at the sketches you drew.” Bruce remarked, breaking the companionable silence. “Do you paint, too? You... You're really good, Steve. You captured things about us... I can see where some cultures don't like to have visual images made of their people. It does reveal things about that person.”
Steve nodded, looking thoughtful, as he continued to chop celery. “That's true,” he agreed. “I think that's what art is supposed to do; reveal truths. When I was a kid, I drew some of the other boys who used to give me a hard time. They used to call me a skinny-balink and play salugi on me.” He looked at the expression on Bruce's face and laughed. “Guess nobody talks like that anymore. They used to make fun of me for being so thin and little and they'd take my hat and throw it to each other over my head. That bunch stopped after I drew them doing it. Johnny mostly made them cut it out. He told me it was an eye-opener seeing the cruelty on their faces, and his, and he hadn't realized how mean they'd been. Johnny and I became friends.” He paused, and then added more quietly, “He died at Pearl Harbor.”
He dumped a pile of shredded carrots into the salad bowl. “What truths did you see in your portraits, Doctor Banner? If you don't mind talking about it? If it's too personal, I understand.”
Bruce was silent for a while, preparing potatoes for baking, and putting them in the oven. He could pass on the question, Steve wouldn't mind. But Steve's art had been a gift, of sorts, and he could give a gift back, let Steve know how his art had affected Bruce.
“I've thought about letting myself be Tony's friend, but it's too late for that decision. We're already friends. I saw that in the pictures of the two of us. And he's got no sense of personal space and I apparently don't care about that at all. I can see that I feel easy around him. That's something that doesn't usually happen to me much. And umm... I didn't know I looked that calm, that still, when I meditate. I've got a bad habit of fiddling with my hands and it was odd to see myself so relaxed.”
Bruce opened the fridge and got out a bag of apples.
“Apple pie sounds about right when Captain America is coming to dinner,” Bruce joked.
Steve smiled. “I do like apple pie. Believe me, I've been teased about it a lot. I like most foods, actually. My metabolism changed so much after I was given the treatment. I think I eat four times the amount I used to when I was still a little guy.”
Bruce started peeling and coring apples, slicing them deftly into a bowl and adding lemon juice, brown sugar, and cinnamon and cloves to the mixture. Steve finished the salad and started setting the table. Bruce put the apples back in the fridge and got out the crust ingredients, washing his hands again and checking them over. It didn't take him long to mix the crust together.
Bruce rolled out the bottom crust. “The other sketches about me? The way you drew me going to fight that first leviathan? I almost felt like I was missing a sling shot and five smooth stones.”
Steve nodded in agreement, his expression earnest. “Yes. Like David. You didn't have any weapons and it was so huge, it filled the air and the street as it came for us. You looked so small compared to it. Tony had faith in you, that you would become the Hulk, but Doctor Banner, I wasn't so sure. I was afraid you were walking towards your death. But you weren't afraid. You weren't scared at all, you just looked like you had a job to do, and it was time to clock in. After I told you it would be a good time for you to get angry and you said your secret was always being angry, well, you turned to face it and you just changed. I've seen movies where a thing that happens slowly, like a flower blooming, was photographed over time but in the movie it looks like it happened almost instantly. That's what you looked like, changing from you, like you are now, to the Hulk. It was amazing.”
Bruce lifted the crust into the pie pan, and started rolling out the top crust. “I can control letting the other guy come out. Unless something like being exposed to gamma radiation happens again. Or if my survival instincts take over. Ross never seemed to learn it was a bad thing to keep shooting at me.”
Steve set bread out in a basket, along with butter, on the table.
“I'm, ah, not directing what happens after that, though, except it's better if I change voluntarily, and not from being forced to, like on the helicarrier. No matter why I change, I only remember flashes of things, images out of context. I guess I did all right this time, except I heard I hit Thor.”
Bruce retrieved the apples and placed them in the pie pan, then picked up the circle of dough and laid it on top, crimped the sides of the crusts together. He sprinkled sugar and cinnamon on the pie, and then picked up a sharp little knife.
Steve said, “You followed orders, you fought like ten armies, and we think you just got a little carried away about Thor. Doctor Banner, you took out Loki, and saved Tony. You were crucial to winning the battle. If the Hulk is needed again, for the good of this world I hope you'll be here to help us.”
Bruce handed the knife to Steve. “You're the artist. Make a design on the top to let the steam out.”
“Doctor Banner?”
“I don't know, Captain. I just don't know right now what I'm going to do.”
Steve used the knife to make a leaf and vine pattern that circled the crust, and Bruce took it from him and slid the pie into the oven, checked the potatoes and told JARVIS to let the rest of the Avengers know that supper was ready. He'd cook the steaks after they arrived.
Tony
After the pie had been demolished and a post dinner pot of coffee drained, Bruce volunteered to clean up. He pushed his chair back and walked over to the sink, leaving the rest of them still making conversation at the table. He politely turned down offers of help from Steve, Clint, Natasha, and Ms. Potts and instead drafted Tony to be his helper.
“Me? I have people who do this sort of thing.”
Hiding his amusement at Tony's puzzled, affronted expression, Bruce replied, “I know. They're not here, you sent them home with pay, right? Until this thing with me gets straightened out? Bruce waved his hand at the table laden with dirty plates and silverware. “Dishes still need to be washed, Tony. It's good to bring order from chaos. Besides, we can talk about the tech while we work. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go up to the lab.”
Natasha's face was deadpan as she looked at Tony, but something about her posture made Bruce think she was holding in a laugh. Clint was grinning as he stood up. “You rock, Kwai Chang. C'mon, Steve, Nat and I are going to watch movies and you're waaaaay behind. Pepper? Want to take a break from work?”
Ms. Potts was biting her lip, trying hard to keep a smile from emerging on her face. “Thank you, Clint. I've got some phone calls to make first, maybe I'll come down later.”
Tony looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, go ahead and laugh, Miss Potts. I hear it's good for your health. And you know that I have, actually, functioned in a kitchen before. I made you an omelet once on the jet, remember?”
Losing the smile that had almost emerged, Ms. Potts' eyes became wider, and then she frowned. “What I remember is that you didn't tell me the truth, Tony.”
“And I've said that I was sorry. I've said it many times. But, because you must need to hear it again, I'm sorry, Pepper.”
“I know, Tony. I don't need apologies; I need promises that you'll take care of yourself. And, I don't think you actually straightened up the galley after fixing me that plate of eggs. You're not known for cleaning up your own messes, so have you ever scrubbed a pot?” She ended the conversation on a teasing note, and Tony visibly relaxed and grabbed her hand and kissed it, another little interpersonal ritual he'd seen them do before.
Tony turned a little in his chair so he could address Bruce. “Doctor Banner. Let's do this. You'll be gentle with me, right? Ms. Potts may be correct; I don't think I've ever done this before.”
Bruce nodded solemnly, playing along. “I'm very experienced. I've washed dishes professionally on three continents.”
Tony's face changed. “And what a tremendous waste of talent that was,” he snapped, his voice sounding vicious, furious.
Bruce shook his head. “Even if my hands were busy scrubbing pots, I could think about my research. And honestly, usually I was glad of the work. I never went hungry when I worked in restaurants.” He wished he hadn't said that as soon as the words left his mouth. He hated what he was reading on Tony's face. “And that's enough about my work history.”
He busied himself by taking the leftover bread from the table and putting it away. Hoping he hadn't made anybody else feel uncomfortable, he decided that he shouldn't joke about the time he'd spent on the run.
He kept his back turned while he emptied the dishwasher of clean dishes, feeling awkward and embarrassed that maybe he'd come across as whining. Everyone at this table, except maybe Ms. Potts, had experienced tough times. Tony had been an injured prisoner in a cave and Steve had grown up in poverty during the Depression. He'd bet they both, plus Clint and Natasha, weren't strangers to missing a few meals.
They'd read his file, but that wasn't the same as hearing about his hard times directly from him. He'd already shared with the class about his suicide attempts, but he'd just wanted to point out how futile it would be to shoot or drug him. He sorted clean silverware with a little more force than was necessary and resolved to not talk about any of his experiences from the last six years.
Bruce listened as Tony got up and kissed Ms. Potts and shooed her and the rest of the team out of the kitchen.
When he turned around Tony was standing there, staring at him with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he wanted to explode.
Bruce sighed. “If you're getting all worked up because of what I said, just drop it, will you? Washing dishes never hurt anybody.” He walked over and took Tony by the arm and towed him to the sink. Tony didn't fight him and Bruce could see him shrug off his indignation. He smiled at Tony, relieved that his friend was going to drop the subject.
Bruce said, “Here. You rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. It's not rocket science.”
“Rocket science I like. This, not so much.” Tony said, but he opened the dishwasher and peered inside.
Bruce stepped away and started stacking up dishes on the table. “Ah well, think about how much more fun it is to wash dishes than doing other things you despise. Attending board meetings, maybe? JARVIS?”
“Yes, Doctor Banner? How may I be of assistance?” JARVIS replied, sounding imperturbable.
“Could you play Tony's favorite music, but keep it low? Thank you.” AC/DC began playing quietly, while Bruce brought the first armload of dishes to the sink, stacking them carefully where Tony could reach them. Tony rolled his eyes, shrugged, and grabbed a plate.
“The bio-mech connection? I'm throwing everything I've got at it, and I'm still missing something that will let me unlock the secret. I'm hoping your research will be part of the solution, Bruce,” Tony said, shoving dishes efficiently into the dishwasher.”
“Mmm... well, you can review what I did last night. You've got plenty of samples of tech, right? We left a pretty big mess all over Manhattan. I assume S.H.I.E.L.D. has been cleaning it up, keeping it out of the public's hands?” Bruce brought over more dishes and nudged Tony with his hip so he could have room to deposit them.
“Oh, yeah. You missed all of that because you were dead asleep. There's tons of broken bits being warehoused and bodies on ice. They've found forty-six weapons in one piece, but they don't work. I've been looking at one that reminds me of a bazooka all day.”
They made quick work of the rest of dishes as he listened to Tony recount the tests he'd run so far. Tony dried his hands with a towel and leaned back against the counter. He threw the towel at Bruce's head, but Bruce caught it easily and hung it up on a rack. He grinned at Tony, glad that things were easy again between them, and stood in front of him.
Bruce held up a hand. “Okay, let me throw a monkey wrench into... all of this. The weapons, Tony. If you get them to work, they'll work on people, too. What you showed me last night was the hovercraft tech.”
Tony grimaced. “And I'm out of the weapons manufacturing business. I know. I don't want to see anything developed to add to the arms race, but we need to understand how these Chitauri weapons work in case those S.O.B.s return. We kicked their asses, and they might hold a grudge. If we had defensive weapons that could sever their mind-tech connection, like blowing up the mother ship did, then we'll improve the odds of not having them destroy the world.”
Tony blew out his breath and shrugged.
Bruce said, doubt in his voice. “I don't know. Should we, as scientists, stifle the pursuit of knowledge? Won't someone else just take up where we left off? Is it or is it not our responsibility what others do with the knowledge we uncover? Or should we take a personal stand and refuse those lines of research we can see are going to lead to destruction? We need to think hard about what we're doing with the Chitauri research.”
“Good questions, Professor,” Tony said seriously.
Sighing, Bruce crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his sides. “I'm the poster child for reckless science. I turned myself into a monster. I was so sure that I'd found the answer to protecting soldiers from gamma weapons. Fury was right about the experiments I did on the run. It was guerrilla science at best, and I was still experimenting on myself. This past year, I've stopped being so damn obsessed with finding a non-existent cure.”
Tony stepped forward and grabbed Bruce's elbow, steadying him when Bruce stumbled a little, and said, heat in his voice, “You didn't turn yourself into a monster; you were set up. Ross never told you what the serum was based on, did he? You were missing too many variables to make an informed decision. He knew what you were going to do. So did the rest of that team, am I right? Of course I'm right. You didn't aim that gamma machine at yourself. You had help.”
“I talked them into it. It's my fault, Tony.”
Tony pressed, “You're really ready to stop looking for a cure? What about Stern's experiment? He induced metamorphosis and then reversed it.”
“Yes, it worked, but it wasn't a cure. Just treated a symptom. I really wonder if the army continued that research. God, I hope not. The risks of things going very, very wrong are just too high.”
“Fury might know. Bruce, you took the same risk so many other scientists have done,” Tony replied, his voice rising emphatically as he continued. “Ben Franklin and the lightning storm; the Wright brothers; Salk and the polio virus, Goldberger and Carrion. That wild man, John Stapp. But this is what we do - we discover, we learn, and if we have to take a risk we do it.”
Bruce found Tony's eyes mesmerizing; though he wanted to look away, he found he couldn't.
Bruce shook his head slowly. “Those guys you mentioned... if they failed, they only hurt themselves. I've done terrible things to others because of that decision to experiment on myself. Tony, I screwed up and I can't fix my problem. I have to live with the other guy. I can try to do something to help other people, though, and that works for me.”
Tony looked away for a long moment and then back at Bruce. “I saw young American soldiers killed by weapons I had designed. That's when I realized that once those weapons left my hand I couldn't guarantee how they would be used. I won't make or sell weapons anymore, but I made myself into a weapon with the Iron Man suit. Don't think I don't recognize the irony of that. But I have control over what I do as Iron Man.”
Tony laughed, but it wasn't particularly a happy sound. “You know, Fury didn't want me on the team originally. My file said I was self-centered, volatile, not a team player. That's a direct quote from a certain S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who assessed me for the position. But I've changed. This, all of this, is extremely important to me. I want to help. This is how I can do it, being Iron Man. I told Loki that if we couldn't defend the Earth we would damn well avenge it. That wasn't a bullshit line to snow him. This is what I believe. And I'm thinking, that yes, we need to develop defensive weapons against their bio-mech. To do that I need to understand how their weapons work. But this is where I think I can draw the line. I'm not going to develop offensive weapons based on their tech. It's kind of a blurry line, but I think I can live with it.”
Tony let him go, and Bruce untucked his arms from his sides. “Fury probably has other guys on this stuff, too. I'm sure it's not just on you. And all you can do is figure out what you can live with.”
“All too true, my friend, all too true. So, now that we've hashed through the ethical dilemmas, you're going to still help me out, aren't you? I mean, you're just looking at the molecular structures. That's not weapons development.”
“Oppenheimer might not have agreed with you. That's how it starts, isn't it? I can get so caught up with what I'm looking at that I can get tunnel vision,” Bruce said.
Tony pushed away from the counter and elbowed him, then took his arm and started tugging him towards the door. “See, this is why we should always work together. We can keep the other one from going off on the crazy train.”
Bruce chuckled; Tony looked sideways at him and grinned.
Bruce said thoughtfully, “So, does the potential good of my research outweigh the potential harm? I'm thinking... yes. Because you're right, Tony. The Chitauri might come back. We should be prepared to defend ourselves.”
“I think the other guy would agree with you,” Tony said, as they left the kitchen.
Bruce had a fragment of a memory then, of him and Thor attacking a leviathan.
“Mmmm.” he nodded, remembering the other guy's desire to protect the team, stop the invaders. “I think... he would.”
JARVIS
Bruce switched to doing a different sort of research after Tony had left the lab for the night. After shutting down his work on the Chitauri biology, he spent a few moments doing deep, cleansing breaths, and then another twenty minutes doing stretches and simple yoga positions to help clear his head. When he finished, he sat back down at the computer station he'd been using. He had to make some decisions and it was time to stop stalling. He needed data.
“JARVIS, a little help?”
“Certainly, Doctor Banner. How may I assist you?”
“Can you do an analysis of these topics in the news media and blogs around the world, and give me samples of the spectrum ranging from very negative to very positive? Also run stats per country of the amount of news coverage. Start three days ago, following the appearance of the Chitauri. First topic: reaction to the Avengers as a group. Second topic: reaction to the Hulk. Contrast current reaction with all former media stories on the Hulk or the damage left by the Hulk. Third topic: reaction to me being identified as the Hulk. Besides that data, could you send me files on the Patriot Act? I'd like to read through it and I would also like a breakdown of current legal thinking on prosecution for domestic terrorists and please include prosecution of those harboring a suspected terrorist. Thank you.”
“You're very welcome, Doctor Banner. If I may be so bold, may I follow my own lines of inquiry into your situation with the data? Where would you like the files to be sent, and what level of security is requested for this data.”
“Security?” Bruce was a little puzzled.
“Do you wish Tony Stark to be aware of your data requests? Doctor Banner, given these search parameters, you are considering leaving, are you not? If asked directly, I will, of course, share this information with him, but we don't have to leave an obvious trail of bread crumbs, if you don't wish to do so.”
“Please use the highest privacy setting you can. It's fine to follow your nose down any paths that you deem relevant, and send the data here to this lab station.”
“As you wish, Doctor Banner. Files are being compiled and will be sent shortly.”
* * *
Bruce thought about his options as he made himself a cup of chamomile tea in the kitchenette down the hall. Basically, he had two. Stay, or go. He'd been a bit of an ostrich the last two days, but he couldn't put off doing this research any longer. Hiding in Stark Tower for a few days was doable, but he couldn't stay in here forever. He had to make a move, and soon. On his way back to the lab, steaming mug in hand, he had a thought.
“JARVIS? One more thing? Could you also send me any information on Captain America's work as an artist? You can leave out data that only states that Steve Rogers can draw. I'm looking for something more in-depth.”
“Happy to oblige, Doctor Banner. It might interest you to know that his work is included in a current exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art that's featuring war-time artists from the seventeen hundreds to modern times.”
“Really? Does Steve know about this?”
“I couldn't say, Doctor Banner. I've not received any previous requests on the subject.”
“Thank you, JARVIS, I appreciate your help.”
When the files were ready seconds later, he settled at the computer. With a few deft gestures, he lifted the files into the air and was soon reading about himself and the rest of the Avengers.
* * *
After an hour, Bruce collapsed the 3-D displays and set a password on the files. He knew that Tony probably had back doors built into everything that blinked binary in his domain, but the extra security might buy him a little more time.
He felt wistful. It had been strange to be part of a group, even if he'd kept to the edges. Though he'd felt awkward at times - well, most of the time - he'd also felt an odd sense of comfort at being part of the Avengers. He still didn't understand why they'd made a point of giving Fury the finger by escorting him out of enemy territory and staying here with him on watchdog duty. They'd saved him from having to perform his party trick, if Fury had insisted on detaining him. He was grateful to them.
But it couldn't last. He'd known that as soon as Steve had started taking that roll call in Fury's office. With the Chitauri gone and Loki no longer a menace, had they taken on his protection as a way to keep being Avengers? Their group identity was so new, the stresses that had shaken it so badly when they'd first formed the team weren't very far behind them. Without something to help them keep bonding maybe they'd just fall apart.
Suddenly it made a lot more sense to him why Fury had let his agents and Steve and Tony defy the Council's decree. Fury was flashing his own finger to the Council. He wanted the Avengers to continue to have a sense of identity, and Bruce was beginning to realize that he was the new rallying point. He wondered if Fury had acted like such an asshole because he wanted to push the Avengers, see if they'd protect their weakest member. Maybe not. Maybe he was usually a dick, but whether that had been an act or just Fury being Fury, the result was clearly a team building exercise.
He supposed if he'd caved and signed the employment contract, that Fury would count that as a win, too. He remembered the dig Fury had made, that Bruce was familiar with whoring himself out, so he might as well drop to his knees for this latest proposition and open his mouth. Nobody had asked him about that. Nobody had even made a shocked face or showed any pity or sympathy or disgust about it. Maybe the briefings on him before he arrived on the helicarrier had covered that part of his history and they'd agreed to leave it alone. Everybody but Tony had been leery of riling him up, after all.
“Time to move on, Banner,” he said softly and he balled up his fists. He wasn't going to be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s bitch.
He was leaving in the morning. The team, these five other people, had wanted to protect him, but it was the Avengers who needed protection. He saw that very clearly. Especially Tony. He'd bet money that Tony had asked Pepper Potts not to mention any risks to him and Stark Industries for letting Bruce stay at his home.
JARVIS was a hell of a hacker and had located top-level government documents which made it clear that S.H.I.E.L.D. had a deadline on recruiting him to keep him controlled before he was made the Army's problem again. Ross was behind the push for the Army to regain being in charge of dealing with the Hulk. And if the baton was handed back to Ross, he planned to re-instate the terrorist charges that S.H.I.E.L.D. had dropped, according to what Bruce had read. His nickname should have been Pit Bull Ross, not Thunderbolt Ross.
JARVIS had also included the documents sent to Ms. Potts from Tony's expensive lawyers as a followup from her initial questions on the phone. If - or more probably when - Tony was officially informed by S.H.I.E.L.D., Homeland Security, the armed services, or law enforcement that Bruce was wanted on charges of being a domestic terrorist, then any help Tony continued to provide put him in danger of being arrested, and his assets at risk of being seized.
Bruce would not repay Tony's kindness to him by doing that. He wasn't going to discuss it with Tony. He was going to run for it before power shifted from S.H.I.E.L.D. back to the Army.
The backlash against the Avengers, as he'd suspected, focused mostly on him. A lot of it appeared to be just people scared at how much damage the Hulk could do. They were a package deal, him and the other guy, and he didn't evoke Robin Hood, like Hawkeye did, or have Captain America's good reputation. Nor was he able to make witty remarks like Iron Man to win over people. He didn't have Thor's likeability, and he wasn't attractive and deadly in a mesmerizing package like Natasha. He was a green, huge monster that roared a lot. He was violent, and even if the violence was done in the name of good, the gut reactions of New Yorkers who'd witnessed him destroying Manhattan and Harlem had been fear.
People felt he was just as likely to hurt bystanders as take down the bad guy. He didn't blame anybody for feeling that way. The accident that created the Hulk had killed two other scientists in the Culver lab.
Bruce as himself had a mixed bag of reactions from the public. People didn't like that he'd been passing for human and might unleash the Hulk wherever he traveled. Some reactions were sympathetic, since the news had been leaked that an experiment gone wrong was the reason he'd become the Hulk. Others condemned him for experimenting on himself. JARVIS had run stats from all the surveys done on the Hulk and him. They showed that the public viewed him as the stereotype of a mad scientist, and that seven out of ten people wanted him locked up.
There were a few stories posted by people he'd helped, who gave a different picture, but they were lost among the outpouring of condemnation. He was responsible for the deaths of his colleagues when the experiment had blown up on him. He'd killed a policeman and a soldier when he'd been attacked by Ross.
If he thought that it wouldn't end in disaster with him being a lab experiment, he might turn himself in. But he knew the Army would claim his body belonged to them. They'd classified him as a biological weapon as well as being a belligerent who'd attacked the Army (damn all those tanks and helicopters he'd smashed.) He couldn't let them take samples of his body to make more monsters. Not when he knew what would happen when you exposed super soldier serum derivatives with gamma radiation variables.
JARVIS had easily traced back S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attempts to spin the Avengers into being seen as on the side of the angels. The Hulk had not been included in any positive PR spin by Fury's people. Bruce figured that was Fury's strong-arm tactics again at work to make him ask for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shelter. But even if he made the best of a bad bargain with S.H.I.E.L.D., the rest of the team would be operating under a handicap with him as an official Avenger.
The bottom line was that if he joined the Avengers he would weigh them down. He wished that his earlier supposition to Steve about that hadn't been proved true. He was going to miss all of them.
But what if the Chitauri or something worse showed up to subjugate or destroy the Earth? If the Avengers needed Bruce's help to research a problem? Or the situation called for the Hulk's strength? It was unlikely, but...
“JARVIS?”
“Yes, Doctor Banner. How may I be of assistance?”
“I'd like to record a message to the team. Don't let them have it until at least six hours after I've gone. Also, can a private message be sent to Ms. Potts, asking her to meet me for breakfast at 6:00am? She's an early riser, Tony said.”
“Ms. Potts' message has been sent and will be tagged as priority. Will the message to the team be in a visual format?”
“Yes. Give me a few moments to think it through, and then you can record it. There's a few other things I need help with, after I say goodbye to them.”
“I am sorry that you had to make this decision, Doctor Banner.”
“But you think it's for the best?”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
Pepper
Ms. Potts looked alert and fresh when she walked into the kitchen the next morning. Bruce had made a pot of coffee and was on his second cup, head in one hand, slumped against the table. He'd only slept a few hours.
“Doctor Banner, you're up early.” She poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Mmmm, yes,” he muttered, then straightened. “Oh, sorry, I meant to be polite and do that for you.”
“You're not really awake, are you?” She smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Bruce shook his head as he yawned involuntarily. “Um. No. JARVIS, please tag this recording as private.”
She sat down next to him and waited calmly for him to get to the point of this encounter while she sipped at her coffee. He supposed being Tony's PA for so many years and then his CEO had honed her skills at patience.
“You remember a saying, 'Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies?'” Bruce set his coffee down, laid his hands on the table and ran one restless finger over and over the knuckles of his other hand.
Ms. Potts finished her coffee and carefully placed the mug on the table, then covered his restless hands with her own.
“What's bothering you, Doctor Banner?”
“That would be a question, Ms. Potts.”
“And I'm the one you're talking to about your problem, not Tony, not Steve, not Natasha or Clint. Interesting. Tell me what you want me to do.” She made it an order, softened by a small smile on her face.
“If you could do me a favor I'd appreciate it. I'd appreciate it even more if you could keep it to yourself for a while.” Bruce wanted to slide his hands free but the sheer rudeness of doing that kept his hands trapped under hers.
“Doctor Banner. Just say what you need me to do and I'll tell you if I can help.” The smile faded, a look of speculation and guardedness taking its place.
“I'd like to give you a note that authorizes you to be given my consultant's fee from S.H.I.E.L.D., and in return, could you front me some cash? This morning?” Bruce asked tentatively.
“Well, okay, but if you need to go shopping for clothes, or really anything, it can all be charged to Tony's accounts. I'm sorry; we should have talked about this with you days ago. I know you left India unexpectedly.” She had relaxed, problem solved, ready to dismiss him and start her work day.
“No, I don't need clothes.” She looked skeptically at yesterday's blue shirt and his pants, both rumpled. He hadn't bothered getting undressed when he'd slept early this morning. “But thank you. I need seven hundred dollars. I'm pretty sure the fee will cover that much.”
She narrowed her eyes, giving him her full attention again. “You don't want S.H.I.E.L.D. to know you need your money immediately.”
She released his hands and stood up. “You're leaving. You don't have to do this, Doctor Banner. Our lawyers will get the legal issues straightened out.”
He shook his head, staring at his hands. “I'm not saying if I'm leaving, but if I were, I would leave no ties to Tony or the rest of the team. Nothing, Ms. Potts, that could be seen as support if anyone is subpoenaed to court. You know what the lawyers' opinions are in the worst case scenario. I'd hate to see that happen.”
“I'm so sorry.” He heard the regret in her voice and looked up at her pretty features. The sadness he saw surprised him, but not the relief in her eyes.
Intuitive and clever, she was a match for Tony Stark. When she realized he saw the relief that she hadn't been able to hide, shame flashed across her face.
He caught her hand. “Don't, Ms. Potts. It's okay. I know I'm trouble and I don't hold your awareness of that against you. You want to protect Tony - I saw that the first night we met. I want that, too. We're on the same side.”
He let go of her hand and stood up. “I'm going to go talk to Steve. I'll need that money maybe in two hours? And I'll have that letter for you to give to Fury.” He opened a drawer on a side desk in a corner of the kitchen and took out notepaper and envelopes.
“That's just petty cash, and I'll have it for you in fifteen minutes. Wait here and drink another cup of coffee. You look like you're going to need it.”
She walked away, high heels clicking as she moved briskly out into the hallway. He thought she honestly was sorry that he would be a fugitive again, but she wasn't sorry that he was leaving Tony behind. She understood that his staying would put both Tony and the company he'd given to her to run in jeopardy. He'd leave it to her to make Tony understand why he'd left.
He blew out a long breath and said goodbye to the vague, tentative dream of staying here, with everything that had entailed. He pushed his feelings of having stood on the doorstep of this haven and then having to return to the life of an elusive outlaw into the deep well of anger that he maintained. Someday, if he needed the other guy, he'd unleash those feelings to power the metamorphosis.
He'd be okay. He had his memories to take with him, of teasing, and touching, companionship and the possibility of love.
He pushed out of his chair and took Ms. Potts advice. He drank his third cup of coffee standing up, leaning against the counter, thinking about those sketches Steve had made of the team, and how he must have drawn his old teammates, the Howling Commandos, the same way.
* * *
cont'd in 5/5