Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes | Every Thirty Days | Chapter Three
See the Master Post for story details
Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Clint
It took thirty-six hours for Doctor Strange to show up at the helicarrier and take over Banner's care. Clint knew, from having a furious conversation with Maria Hill earlier over the comm system, that Fury only allowed it because S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctors were stumped.
Now Hill was in Banner's cell, staring assessingly at Banner as he lay comatose. He looked harmless and vulnerable, the last person you would imagine as the Hulk. There was no chance now of Hulk showing up. The gamma dampeners in the cell took care of that.
Hill switched her focus to Clint, narrowing her eyes. “Fury's allowing Doctor Strange access to Banner, but we're going to keep eyes on him. The first time he does something that might compromise the safety of our agents or the helicarrier, we'll deal with him. He won't like it. So, Barton, since it seems that you've put yourself in charge here, keep Strange in line.”
“When will he be here?” Clint indicated Banner with his thumb, moving over to stand next to his hospital bed. “Your guys have come up with zip on how to bring him out of this.”
Jan was next door, bunking in a spare bed, getting some sleep. Clint had been too restless to sleep, or even sit quietly in a chair. He kept patrolling the room, eying the gamma dampener outlets high in the ceiling, thinking about how he could shoot them with an electrical charge arrow to disable them. Just in case Hulk did want to come out.
“Fury's talking with Doctor Strange right now.” She looked at Banner again, and her expression hardened. “Maybe the best thing for everybody would be if he just stayed in a coma.”
Clint exploded. “The Hulk is a damn hero! When will S.H.I.E.L.D. give hounding him a rest? And it's not anybody but S.H.I.E.L.D.'s and the Army's fault that Bruce Banner was on the run and had to defend himself. Didn't anybody ever think to maybe try to help the guy learn to cope with what happened to him in that fucked up experiment? No, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Army, Ross especially, just went gunning for him. He's a genius. Einstein level of smarts, we're talking. I watched him come up with the antidote to the Leader's gamma craziness, and it was impressive. The world could have used his talents, and instead he had to spend years hiding and probably starving half of the time, when he wasn't fighting to stay free.”
Clint couldn't keep his tone of voice respectful, but what the hell. He didn't work for her anymore; he could have an attitude if he wanted, and boy, did he want to unload after watching Banner's vital signs go slowly downhill for the last day and a half.
“You've never talked with him, have you, Assistant Director Hill?” he snarled.
“What's your point, Barton?” Hill replied, and she took a step closer to him.
“Well, if you had you'd know that he's a gentle kind of guy.”
Hill looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me! He levels buildings!”
“If he does, then he's got a good reason. Look. He puts everybody else first, before himself. Even Hulk. Did you know that he only returns to being Banner once every thirty days? How selfless is that?”
Hill looked down at Banner. “That's not in our files. What's his angle?”
Clint blew out a long breath, tired. “He did it, he explained to the rest of us, so that Hulk could have a chance to show that he's a good guy, a real hero.”
“The Hulk can't be trusted.”
“I trust Hulk with my life. So do the rest of the Avengers.”
“Why?”
Clint shrugged. “I know from experience Hulk will sacrifice his own safety to save someone. Out in the desert, after he showed up in Vegas, he could have run for it and he didn't, just so some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could live another day.”
Hill's dark eyes sharpened. “Who? This wasn't in any reports.”
He pointed at his chest. “Me. And Natasha. He intercepted a missile Ross fired that would have creamed me and the Widow. He took that hit for us, even though we were trying to take him down.”
“Why am I just now hearing about this?”
Clint gritted out, “My bad. I didn't finish my paperwork because you know, S.H.I.E.L.D. believed Natasha that I was a double agent and stuck me in the Vault. Then I quit.”
“Well, make your report now.”
“Hulk also saved my ship. The only reason Bobbi Morse and the others are alive is because of him. I admit that I don't have a clue how Banner and Hulk work exactly, but Hulk gets who he is from Banner. So don't go saying that it would be better for us for him to be in a coma.”
He glanced down. Banner wasn't getting better. He might even--”
He crowded her. Almost shaking, he glared, and said, with as much menace as he could, “Don't you ever imply things would be fine if he croaked.”
Hill gave him a look, her dark brown eyes steady. “Back off, Barton. Cool down, or you're out of here.”
He stared hard at her for just a shade over what he guessed she would tolerate and then stepped away. He put his hand on Banner's chest.
Hill raised an eyebrow. “You know, it's just as well you quit S.H.I.E.L.D. , Hawkeye. Your tendency to be insubordinate and that disrespectful mouth of yours would have gotten you in trouble eventually with us.”
“You want to hear what my insubordinate mouth has to say about--”
“Shut it, Barton. Remember why I'm allowing you in here.” She gestured with her thumb towards the bed.
She gave him a tight smile. “But you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent once and a damn good one. Tell you what, I'll take you up on that suggestion. If Banner recovers, he and I will have a conversation.”
Clint counted to ten in his head, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Only if I'm around and he can see me. He doesn't have any reason to believe a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would talk to him without gloating or tricking him somehow. Did S.H.I.E.L.D. even apologize to him for keeping him captive when it was the Red Hulk who wrecked the helicarrier, not him?”
Hill was silent, so, no, neither Banner nor Hulk had received any apology.
She eyed him speculatively. “You're pretty protective of Banner. What's he to you, Barton? Just a teammate, a fellow Avenger?”
Clint just smirked. He didn't mind bamboozling Hill and S.H.I.E.L.D. about this at all. He didn't have any hang-ups about being bisexual.
“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Assistant Director Hill,” he said piously.
Hill snorted. “ A gentleman, no. I was asking you, Barton.” She looked at Banner again, another speculative look on her face. “Don't you Avengers feed him? You should get him cleaned up. He looks unkempt, and that's not just from being sick. Get your boy here a haircut if he comes out of this coma. Talk him into shaving off that scruff, since he can't really pull off a decent beard. Of course, you'll look like you're robbing the cradle then. Those freckles make him look like Tom Sawyer.”
Clint suddenly felt the hours of no sleep catching up with him. Jesus, he was tired. And he was tired of fencing with Hill. “That's a problem I won't mind having, if he makes it through this.” Let S.H.I.E.L.D. think Banner was his boyfriend. Maybe that would make them less likely to mess with the guy in the future. Besides, Banner was the clueless sort. He probably wouldn't get it, if anybody from S.H.I.E.L.D. made some remark to him about being Clint's boy toy.
They both looked towards the door as it opened, and a tall man, dark-haired with white at his temples walked into the room. The way he dressed made Clint a little nostalgic for the circus. He wore a long royal-blue tunic-shirt, a broad yellow sash around his waist, trousers that looked like leggings, and some outlandish bauble was hanging around his neck. He topped off the colorful ensemble with a red cape. He and Thor would look a pair if they ever met up. This had to be Doctor Strange.
Strange spoke softly, but Clint heard what he said clearly. I summon forth the all-seeing Eye of Agamotto! Now let my amulet open! Strange touched the amulet, and Clint blinked. The eye in the middle of it was open. That was weird. When he'd first glanced at it, he was sure that eye had been closed. He was an archer, a sniper. He didn't make mistakes about what he looked at. Ever.
Strange looked calmly at Clint and Hill, and his eyes moved to Banner. He studied him for a long moment, and then took Banner's chart from where it was hanging on the wall and started flipping through it.
“I'm Doctor Strange. Assistant Director Hill, is it not? You'll need to leave. In order to treat Doctor Banner, I require privacy.”
Hill rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? Look, Banner is under surveillance. That's not going to change. But I'm needed elsewhere, anyway, so I'm out of here.” She nodded at Clint. “Barton, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, if he pulls through.”
When she'd left, Strange finished reading the chart and then gave Clint a penetrating stare for an uncomfortably long time, until Clint was ready to snap at him to take a picture. He managed to bite his tongue, though, because flaky as Circus Act here seemed, none of the other doctors had helped Banner. He was still a three on the Glasgow Coma Scale. So, maybe this guy could do something, and Clint would try to not tick him off.
Strange laid his hand on Banner's forehead and was quiet for ten minutes. Clint didn't disturb him. All he was doing was touching Banner, that seemed harmless enough. He ended his little creepy session by taking his palm and holding it above Banner's face a few inches and then slowly moving his palm down Banner's face and body, never touching him. Then he turned toward the door.
Jan stumbled in, her eyes still sleepy, her dark hair a little tousled. “Maria told me Doctor Strange was here. How's Bruce doing, Clint? Oh!” She startled when she caught sight of Strange.
Strange turned his gaze on her, and after he'd stared at her long enough that Jan had started to flush a little, he said, “Miss Van Dyne, correct? Known as the Wasp.”
“Yes, that's me. Hello. We're all hoping you can help Bruce.” Jan glanced down at Banner.
Doctor Strange looked down at him, too, then looked in her eyes. “Your friend has lost the balance he has so precariously maintained for so long. If he cannot find it again, he will remain adrift in this coma.”
Jan breathed out a soft, painful, “Oh.”
“I sense that you care for Bruce Banner and the Hulk. Will you lend them your strength?”
Wasp nodded frantically. “Bruce and Hulk are my friends. But Doctor, I really don't know Bruce very well. None of us do.”
“So I surmised, as I gazed at him with the Eye of Agamatto. He has been alone for a long time, and his spirit has been injured. He has forgotten the joy of companionship, and love. He has exiled himself, and is tempted by the siren call of oblivion.”
“The what kind of call?” Clint asked.
“He would let the Hulk live, and Banner die.”
Jan gasped. “Oh, Bruce.”
Clint heard the guy's words again in his head, and he felt numb, frozen. Banner didn't want... He couldn't complete that thought. Banner had looked at Clint with such earnestness when they'd met, challenging him. He'd been stoic and brave when he'd been caught.
He remembered watching shooting stars with him and hearing Banner talk about the wonder he found in his work. Campfires, the cabin, watching him meditate in the garden.
Strange turned to him. “And you, Clinton Barton. Your help would also be welcomed.”
Clint swallowed and nodded.
“You have guarded this man fiercely in the past and stand by him now, weapons ready, should an enemy come to harm him. Through the Eye of Agamotto I see that the Hulk is your comrade and that a clear bond exists between you, one forged in battle and companionship.”
Strange gentled his voice. “Consider my words. You deny Bruce Banner the bond you share with the Hulk, but you would lay down your life to save his. You defend him with strong words to others, yet say nothing to him of the respect you feel for his intelligence or the anger you feel for the injustices he has endured. He intrigues you; you wish to stir him, to make him respond, and you feel frustration when he will not show the reactions you desire.”
Clint opened his mouth and then shut it again. This guy, how--?
Strange pointed a long finger at him. “You appoint yourself his guardian, but in his mind you are nothing but his keeper. He feels you despise him and it is only your duty to the Avengers that keeps you by his side. Learn your own heart, Hawkeye.”
Clint felt his face twist up into a protest, because, hello, how the hell did he know what Clint thought about anything? It wasn't like they'd even exchanged two words.
But... this doctor was right. He'd nailed how Clint felt about Hulk and Banner, and if he was right, if Banner thought Clint despised him, then Clint was going to have words with Doctor Bruce Banner. Just because Banner wasn't an Avenger didn't mean he despised him.
Strange motioned for Wasp to come to Banner's bed. “Janet Van Dyne, you have a good heart. You extended friendship to this man when most believed him to be evil. If you are willing, take his hand.”
Jan moved quickly to Banner's side and picked up one of his hands, holding it tightly.
Strange looked again at Clint. “Bruce Banner is dying. When he does, perhaps the Hulk will return, or it may be that he will die as well. I cannot see their path beyond Banner's death.”
Clint felt his gut lurch. “Jesus.”
Strange kept looking intently at Clint. “Do you wish to lend them your strength to try to save them? They will know your feelings toward them, there can be no privacy between you.”
Clint shrugged, not much caring about that. Banner was fucking dying. “I'll help. What do you want me to do?”
“Take his other hand and join hands with Wasp.” Strange waited until Clint and Janet had linked their hands with Banner's limp ones in a circle. “Relax your minds, please. Think on Bruce Banner's and the Hulk's places within your hearts and within the Avengers.”
Strange placed one hand on Banner's forehead and the other one on Banner's chest. “You will observe, and he will know you are present and know your thoughts that are concerned with him, but you will not be able to directly communicate. The energy that requires is not something within your grasp. Get ready. It will help if you close your eyes.”
Clint let his eyes fall shut, feeling Banner's cold hand in his right hand and Jan's warm one in his left. He pictured Hulk, sharing a joke with him at Tony's expense.
He remembered Banner working in his cabin, intent and for once too involved in his research to keep that bland facade going.
Strange began chanting in a low murmur. “Banish despair through light. By the power that moves and breathes and flows and grows with us as one --may Nirvalon quash all despair through pure white light. Be done!”
There was a bright flash of incandescent light Clint saw even though his eyes were still shut. A jolt ran through him, passing to Banner. From the gasp Janet made, he guessed she'd experienced the same thing.
In his mind, he heard Strange tell him and Jan to open their eyes.
When he did, he found himself in a wooded area, partly up a mountain, the sound of rain patterning down on leaves making a kind of music. It looked to be South or Central America. He and Jan were standing next to each other. Banner was nowhere to be seen, but Clint spotted Doctor Strange all right. The guy was levitating in a cross-legged position, way, way up in the air in front of a large cave opening.
Jan shrank down and flew up to the cave's entrance. She disappeared inside, and Clint started climbing up the mountain as rapidly as he could, sometimes finding himself sliding back a little on the wet terrain before catching himself against a tree or grabbing a vine.
It seemed like a long time before he scrambled into the mouth of the cave, damp from the light mist, and all he could think about during his climb was that Doctor Strange had said that Banner was dying.
Clint wasn't having that. It made him furious that Banner thought so little of himself that he was willing to just kiss off. He was even more furious with himself, and to some extent, the other Avengers and Hulk, for not seeing what was going on right underneath their noses.
Doctor Strange was still levitating, like he was sitting on an invisible magic carpet right outside of the cave's entrance. Clint knew this wasn't happening in real life, that they were still in the helicarrier in Banner's cell. He and Jan were holding Banner's hands, and somehow Doctor Strange had sent them into Banner's mind.
So okay. Weird, but you didn't stay an Avenger if you couldn't learn to roll with the weird.
He'd check out this cave and see what was up. Jan hadn't flown out of here, so he figured that he was in the right place. The cave shaded from dim to barely visible once he'd gone around a bend. Jan had her stingers to light things up, but Clint pulled a small flashlight out from its snug place on his quiver and shone it ahead.
He heard a familiar rumble then, an angry tone to the deep voice. Hulk was there.
Clint ran ahead, skidding to a slide on the damp rock. Catching himself, he turned another corner, feeling like he did as a battle began, sharp and observant, adrenaline shooting through his body, ready to let his reflexes take over to deal with the threat facing him.
Hulk was sitting on the ground, huffing impatiently. Clint walked over to him cautiously. It was never a good idea to startle the big guy. Jan was perched on his shoulder, and she patted Hulk a couple of times before flying off into a smaller side cave by Hulk's big green feet.
Clint waved at him. Hulk snorted. “You and Wasp aren't real. Don't know why I dreamed you up. But then, I shouldn't be real. I'm only around because Banner screwed up. And I wasn't wanted, not for a long, long time.”
Clint tried to answer him but found that words wouldn't form in his mouth. Instead, he pointed at Hulk, then at himself and held up two fingers tight against each other.
Hulk grinned, his teeth bright in the dimness.
“Yeah, and Wasp was the first one to take my side. She likes to come and sit on my shoulder. She knows I'd smash anything that tried to hurt her. It makes her feel better.”
Clint stepped closer to him, wondering if Hulk had just now learned that stuff about Janet.
“So. Since Cupid's not really here and Wasp has gone to find Banner, think I'll indulge myself.”
Hulk casually reached out and snagged him, then plopped him in his lap, two huge arms wrapped around him.
At that touch, understanding flooded through him. He felt the utter confusion and fear Hulk experienced upon his moment of birth, and the pain that soon followed with men shooting guns at him. He felt what Hulk had felt: Banner's horror at what he had done to himself, and his determination to utterly kill his huge green alter-ego through wiping him out with more science. Then when Banner couldn't totally stop Hulk from breaking through when Banner was scared or hurt or angry, how he'd trained himself through meditation and yoga and even drugs to keep Hulk submerged. Hulk had been hurt by Banner's rejection, his hatred of Hulk a hatred of himself.
Monster. That was what Banner and everyone else called him. And since Banner couldn't accept Hulk, when Hulk emerged his rage was two-fold. Anger at whoever or whatever was hurting him and anger at Banner for his denial of what Hulk was to him. Because they were not separate, not really. Hulk was Banner, the part of him that wanted to fight back, to stop the tormentors, his childhood wish to be powerful and strong granted like a fairy's wish, and like any dealing with the fairy folk, you might get your wish, but not in the way you thought.
Banner might not like Hulk, but he needed him. Hulk rescued him and others over and over. Hulk might be angry, but he wasn't a monster. He didn't hurt people, not even those soldiers who kept finding his hiding places and who kept building bigger and bigger weapons to capture him.
But Banner walled him out, wouldn't share any of his life with Hulk.
Then Banner began to talk to him, said he was sorry for trying to destroy him. He said he was going to learn to live with him and asked Hulk what he wanted.
Banner gave it to him. He let himself stay big and green for longer periods of time, and he began to teach Hulk about the world. He often told Hulk he was proud of him for the decisions Hulk made when he was the one outside. Even when Hulk was on the inside, Banner would talk with him, about things like ethics and morals and sacrifice and redemption. He said he liked being Hulk's mentor.
Clint saw himself and Natasha from Hulk's eyes, small, annoying, but clever hunters. Hulk admired them for their abilities, and the man with the bow was so quick and agile. Hulk didn't want to hurt them; he would run away so they wouldn't be able to keep up.
Then Ross - Hulk despised him for forcing him to fight so often against the Army - had showed up. Ross didn't care if he killed people on his own side, as long as he could capture Hulk and experiment on him. Banner had explained how Ross said he belonged to the Army, that he was a weapon that needed to be recovered so more weapons could be made from his blood.
Clint felt Hulk's decision to save the annoying aircraft and the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents from the missile Ross had fired at them. Hulk knew he'd just given up his only chance of escape.
Banner didn't let Hulk experience any pain or suffering, the way Banner did, if he could help it. But sometimes Banner was hurt too badly and then Hulk would come out to help, if he could. Sometimes they used science, gamma dampeners, or strong drugs, to keep him locked away inside of Banner.
When Hulk had escaped from his gamma prison, Banner had told him he'd done the right thing by saving Doc Samson. He challenged Hulk to be a hero. Hulk had agreed to try, if he let Hulk stay out.
Hulk was tired of running, of not having a home, and he longed for something that Banner told him was friendship. Not that Banner had much of that, not anymore. Hulk wanted people to see him as a good person who would do good things.
Joining the Avengers was his chance to do just that. Clint was surprised to feel just how nervous the big green guy had been about working with the Avengers. Trust was difficult to build, both with Banner and with the Avengers, but Banner gave him control and agreed to only be outside one day of the month. It had been a test, and Hulk had really thought Banner wouldn't do it. But he had.
Trusting the Avengers took time. Hulk had never lived with other people before, or even had his own bed. The first one was too small, but Tony built him a bigger one, and he had a room of his own and a big house to live in. He'd been cranky a lot, scared about messing up. But he'd begun to think he might be able to do this, be an Avenger and a hero. That hadn't lasted.
Amora the Enchantress had ruined those first attempts he'd had to trust the team, making him think they were tricking him. He'd left to sulk when she was defeated, sure that it was impossible for him to really be accepted.
Hawkeye had tracked him down in Canada. Hulk had dubbed him Robin Hood in his head. Hulk liked stories, and Banner often told him his favorites when Hulk was hiding from others in the jungle or caves or in the snow-covered lands. Men with weapons had hunted Robin Hood, too, but he fought for justice anyway. Like Hulk could do, Banner had told him.
This Robin Hood wasn't afraid of Hulk and he demanded to see Banner or he'd fight him. Hulk was so amused at that he laughed and let Banner change places with him.
Hawkeye became a friend the day Hulk agreed to rejoin the Avengers. Hulk backed him up when Tony thought Clint might be a Skrull. The two of them liked to swim together, hang out, eat pizza, and watch Cap wipe the floor with Tony when he wasn't in his armor. Hulk thought Hawkeye was funny, and he enjoyed the back and forth teasing.
They became bro's, according to Hawkeye. That empty place inside of Hulk didn't seem so big anymore when Hawkeye would nudge him or fight enemies beside him.
One day, Hulk realized that he loved Clinton Barton, Hawkeye. It made him feel content. When Banner and Hulk talked about it, Banner had smiled at him.
Hulk dropped a kiss onto the top of Clint's head. Clint wiggled a little, and patted Hulk's arm. Hulk opened up his arms and Clint climbed out of his lap.
Clint held up his fist to Hulk, who gave him a bump with his own much larger one. It was an unspoken promise that he would have Hulk's back.
Huh. Hulk liked him. Really liked him, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about that. They were friends, sure. Maybe even friends who might explore some other possibilities. But. Hulk seemed... well, kind of young, like a teenager.
Like most teens, he could be pretty self-absorbed at times, and a little oblivious to other people's needs. Hulk hadn't thought much about Banner's not wanting to take his day off, not until he realized Hawkeye and the others were concerned about Banner. He was plenty worried about him now, though.
Hulk looked him up and down and said, “You sure had a lot to tell me for a hallucination.”
Clint held out his hands in a “What?” gesture.
Hulk crossed his arms, looked thoughtful. “Hmph. I thought being in a circus would have been more fun.”
Clint didn't just roll his eyes, he practically rolled his whole body. Funny. He hadn't realized that Hulk was learning about him all the time he'd been learning about Hulk.
Hulk rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face. “And you like me just fine, but it's Banner you want to do things with, uh, a lot more than kissing.”
Clint boggled at what Hulk had just said. Him, Banner. Sexy times together. He thought about it, flipping rapidly through his memories of being with Banner. Okay, fine. He wanted that.
He made a face, understanding better ol' Doc Strange's advice that he needed to learn his own heart.
“You should go and tell him, hallucination. Maybe then he'll stop being so stubborn and come out of his hidey-hole.”
It was like he'd been putting together pieces of a difficult puzzle for a long time. Now it was finished, and he could clearly see what the picture was all about. He wanted that skinny guy with his big brown eyes. He wanted to strip the clothes off him and run his hands over Banner's body and play connect the freckles with his tongue. He wanted to make Doctor Banner, boy genius, lose that calm manner of his and just fly apart, hear him beg Clint to touch him like that, again, and again.
A Clint Barton blow-job special should do the trick.
If he went into that smaller cave, where Banner was hiding from life, and touched him, then Banner was going to know Clint wanted to have sex with him. Awkward, awkward, awkward. Because he was pretty sure that Banner didn't feel the same way about him. Doctor Strange had said Banner thought of Clint as his keeper. Someone who was only with him because it was his job, not because he actually liked him. And okay, he hadn't gone out of his way to let Banner know that he always volunteered for babysitting him. In his defense, though, he hadn't figured out that he did like him until now. Who knew?
He wondered if Banner had decided that none of the Avengers liked him. Hell, it had taken six months before they had even asked if he was okay. If anything, that was just ammunition for Banner's argument.
Well, fuck that.
So Banner didn't like him very much. Clint was always up for a challenge. He'd get Banner to come around; he'd be nice to him for a change, and if he couldn't seduce one socially inept and sexually deprived scientist, then he'd eat his bow.
He'd start with touch, because he had a feeling Banner was starving for just normal human affection. Pats on his arm, slaps on the back, an arm draped around his shoulders, he'd have the guy dizzy with all the attention he planned on giving him.
The Hulk didn't like shirts. When Hulk let Banner take his place, there would be a prime opportunity to be all over that half-naked body. Clint was good at improvising. Figuring out how many ways he could get his hands touching Banner's arms and chest would be entertaining, to say the least.
Unless...
f Banner truly wasn't interested then he'd keep his hands to himself. He wouldn't be creepy towards the guy. He'd keep things reined in at the buddy level, if he didn't get some feedback that Banner was enjoying what Clint planned.
But even if sex never happened, things were going to change. He'd get the guy to be his friend, at least. Banner needed one worse than anybody Clint had ever seen.
There was no use in stalling anymore. Who knew how long this mystical shit was going to last anyway, so he should just go find Banner and ‘fess up about his intentions.
On hands and knees, he crawled into the small cave until he could stand up again. He saw a dim light ahead. When he rounded another bend, he saw two figures. Banner was curled up on the ground, his back to Hawkeye and to normal sized Janet, whose hands were giving off a soft glow. Jan was patting Banner's back.
She shot a guilty look at Clint, when he knelt next to them. Giving Banner a small kiss on the side of his face, she scooted back far enough to give them some privacy, waving a hand to Clint.
Her message was clear enough. Clint felt like he did when he had an arrow ready, the split second before letting it fly.
Once he did this, there was no taking it back. Banner was going to know all about his mixed-up feelings towards him.
He stretched out his hand to imitate Jan, to pat Banner on his back. But Banner hadn't changed his posture for her, hadn't rolled over to look her in the eye or sit up.
Well. Begin as he meant to go on. Being subtle just wasn't Clint. Banner was at the point where something drastic needed to be done, or he'd die here in his mind, and very likely his body would, too. And Clint needed both of them to live. Hulk and Bruce.
Bruce. Clint rolled around the sound of Banner's name in his head, formed the word with his lips even though no sound accompanied his pronunciation. Bruce. Bruce Banner. Bruce Banner, genius, thin and boyish looking. How had Clint missed the cuteness factor with this guy? How had he not figured out his own attraction to Bruce?
Clint liked smart. He had liked that about Natasha, too, even more than her pretty green eyes and her looks. He'd flirted with Bobbi Morse during their mutual missions, and it wasn't just because of her blond hair and long legs and the dash of freckles across her cheeks. She was another smart one. Bobbi was actually Doctor Barbara Morse, scientist. Intelligence was such a turn on, and Bruce was brimming with smarts. His messy mop of light brown hair, his wary brown eyes and freckles, and those long legs didn't hurt, though.
He'd had years to convince Bruce to be with him and he'd wasted such opportunities. And now Bruce had abandoned wanting to be part of the Avengers. He’d even begun to abandon life in his own body.
Clint felt anger of his own boiling up, at Bruce for giving up, and at himself for being such a jerk to this guy who'd had nothing but crap shoveled on top of him since the first time he'd transformed into Hulk.
Still kneeling, Clint bent over Bruce, grabbing him firmly, yanking him away from the wall of the cave. Bruce's eyes, which had been closed, flew open as Clint got to his feet and dragged him backwards.
Wha?” He sounded shocked but Clint didn't know whether it was from being manhandled or from the mental info dump about Clint and Clint's desire to do the horizontal bop with him. Bruce's arms were flailing; he was off-balance and couldn't get his feet under him. Clint didn't let go.
Clint crouched down, putting his back against the cave wall, ignoring how his quiver pushed against him. He decided to take a hint from Hulk- maneuvering Bruce, who'd stopped struggling, until he was firmly seated between Clint's legs. Clint draped his legs over Bruce's, partly to make sure he stayed put, partly to keep him warm. Bruce felt cold to him.
He wrapped his arms around Bruce, whose back was rigid against his chest, and kissed him on his neck. Bruce started shaking his head back and forth in denial. Clint tightened his arms a little more and kissed him again.
Bruce was still stiff in his arms, but after the third kiss, Clint felt him tilt his head slightly, relaxing against Clint's chest, exposing his neck a little more. Clint took that subtle surrender as an invitation to keep kissing Bruce, who shivered when Clint laid delicate kisses on his ear. Okay. Found one erogenous zone.
Dazed, Bruce murmured, “I really am hallucinating.”
Clint wished he could actually talk to Bruce, tell him that he'd just figured out a few things, that it was going to be different now between them. He hoped that was what Bruce was feeling from him, but who knew what exactly Bruce was learning about him. Maybe more about Clint learning his craft as an archer during his time in the circus, maybe about some of the missions S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him on.
He couldn't control what Bruce was learning, but he could use his lips and his arms to let Bruce know that he was wanted.
Those kisses started off as Clint's shorthand for “Hey, I like you. See, 'cause I'm kissing you,” but as he took in Bruce's life and feelings, he gentled them, hoping Bruce would take some comfort from the soft touch of lips to his skin. Now was not the time to be leaving hickeys. God, he'd kind of known that Bruce's life had sucked, but he hadn't known it had sucked way before he'd had his little accident with gamma radiation.
All Clint could do was hold on to Bruce, riding out images and emotions so powerful, Clint felt like they could swamp him.
Mommy screaming. Hands coming at him, slapping him, gripping small arms too hard, twisting them, pain shooting through his body. Tossing him carelessly against walls, the nasty smell of cigarettes and Daddy's beer and booze, Daddy telling him he should have hidden faster. ”I sorry, I sorry, Daddy. Stop, stop!”
Only it hadn't stopped. Not for years. Not until the police came and took Daddy away, and Bruce had to leave his mother's body there on the garage floor.
Never feeling like he had a home, even though his aunt was kind enough to him. Feeling out of place, so much smaller and younger than the other kids in his classes.
In trouble constantly for losing his temper and breaking things. Learning to not allow himself to feel anger, to just eat it instead, and somewhere deep inside he pulsed with self-hatred for not being strong enough to fend off bullies, and most of all, for not being able to stop his father from killing his mother.
Embracing science, loving the scientific method because it was so rational, seeing the narrowed eyes of jealous peers and teachers, mentors, as he would leapfrog over their ideas. Being awarded scholarships, grants. He loved his research.
Finding happiness and contentment in helping other people who needed it, traveling to Central and South America with various volunteer groups to help with medical and educational projects. Heading up the research project on a gamma resistant serum to protect soldiers.
Falling in love. Betty Ross loving him back. Not even her father's disapproval could dim his joy at being with her.
Deciding that he should be the one the serum was tested on. The accident, where he was bombarded with gamma radiation. Miscalculation or deliberate sabotage, he just didn't know.
The first metamorphosis.
Pain, fear, anger, outrage, the overwhelming desire to destroy the machines and guns that were hurting him. Seeing the fear in Betty's eyes before the Hulk took over completely and Bruce Banner was shoved into a place in the monster's mind.
Horror when he came back to himself after that first transformation, mostly naked, cold, hungry and thirsty. Lost. So lost. General Ross, Betty's father, wanting to capture him.
Cutting his ties to Betty, to his old life. Years spent hiding, running, battling the Hulk, trying to keep him contained. Hating his life; hating the Hulk.
Always watching for the Hulkbuster units and Ross. Traveling. Dumpster diving. Blisters and calluses from manual labor in jobs where nobody cared about his name or ID. Hungry and cold and dirty far too often as he wandered, always on edge, never able to relax.
Captured. Tortured under the guise of scientific experimentation. Hulk breaking them free. Captured again. General Ross gloating. Restraints, drugs that left him dazed and compliant. Being made to watch videos of the destruction the Hulk had caused. Noticing that the Hulk went out of his way to avoid hurting innocents. Making tentative overtures to Hulk. Realizing that Hulk was not a monster, that a cure was not the way for him and Hulk. Hulk was just as much a part of this person called Bruce Banner as was the guy in the original body.
Escape again. Nightmares. Hiding himself in rainforests, Canada's wilderness, slums, sharing abandoned houses with junkies. Hitchhiking. Loneliness. Flashbacks. Forgetting Betty's voice, the shades of brown in her hair. Taking a risk and going back to Willowdale to see her. She'd moved on, had a new lover. She looked happy, so he was happy for her.
Finding solace in the woods; learning to treasure small things that brought him happiness: A child playing peek a boo with him on a bus. Hulk jumping into waves for the first time. Tutoring whatever college or high school kids crossed his path in science and math. A ride out of the rain.
Saving a pot-grower's life and working for him. Taking the money to buy lab equipment and construction supplies. He and Hulk collaborating on his hidden cabin in Canada, deepening the relationship between him and Hulk, slowly building trust on both sides.
Catching wind of what S.H.I.E.L.D. was up to with the gamma transformed men and women in custody. Vegas. Forced to fight, Hulk taking over.
Being in the Cube, arms restrained over his head, half-naked and cold, gamma dampeners holding back Hulk. Meeting Hawkeye again as Bruce, not Hulk, feeling an unreasonable hope that the man would do as Bruce asked and investigate S.H.I.E.L.D.'s purpose in experimenting with the prisoners.
Encouraging Hulk to join with those superheroes who were trying to take down Graviton. Feeling proud of Hulk, and agreeing to stay submerged in Hulk's consciousness, only changing back to Bruce Banner once every thirty days.
Watching as Hulk became an Avenger, encouraging him to make friends with his teammates, patiently trying to teach Hulk how to get along with them. Feeling a sense of satisfaction that his life was useful again, glad that he and Hulk had become Avengers.
Meeting the other Avengers for the first time when he transformed back to Bruce Banner, feeling self-conscious and awkward, his pants in tatters. Jan: the nicest, giving him her boyfriend's clothes to borrow. Tony: friendly but distracted. Thor: confused as to how he could be Hulk, referring to Hulk as Bruce's ogre until Jan got him to stop. Hank: barely speaking to him before going back to his lab.
Meditating out in the garden that first visit, enjoying the respite from the storm of Hulk's emotions. Surrendering his body back to Hulk, knowing that he was doing the right thing for him, giving him his chance to prove he was not a monster, no matter his size and his strength and his skin color.
Staying with the Avengers and feeling a mixture of resignation and hurt that Clint didn't like him at all, but hiding it. Wondering why Clint always got stuck with the unwelcome job of keeping an eye on him.
He and Hulk liked Clint a lot. He was funny and brave and clever, and he was Hulk's friend. He liked looking at Hawkeye's strong arms and his dark blue eyes, and watching him move, so agile, like a gymnast. Look, but not touch. Never touch. Nobody really touched Bruce anyway, except for Cap's hand on his shoulder during one of their infrequent talks. He still kind of treasured feeling Clint's arms around his bare chest when they rode his sky scooter to Bruce's cabin before going to stop the Leader.
Clint liked to needle him. Bruce tried to not let it bother him, but sometimes he didn't want to stay calm or just ignore Clint. Sometimes he wanted to tell him off, or tease him, too. He often thought of what he would say back to Clint. He hardly ever slipped up and said it, though. Clint wanted him to, he knew. Sometimes, he felt that Clint was running experiments on him, to see how much of an ass Clint could be before Bruce got fed up. Clint didn't like it when he couldn't get a rise out of Bruce.
Bruce didn't know how to open up anymore to others. Before he and Hulk had come to an understanding, he'd guarded his emotions like they were a pin in a bomb. If he pulled the pin, let himself react, then suddenly he wasn't Bruce but Hulk. The habit was still strong.
Besides, Clint didn't like him, so there was no point in letting him know Bruce kind of wanted him or blowing up at him. He might stop spending any time with Bruce. Bruce treasured the attention he was given, but he made sure Clint didn't know that. Clint could be fun, and nice, generous, and he made Bruce want to laugh sometimes. He wouldn't risk that, but he was amused at Clint's antics. Even when Clint was cranky. Even when he'd kept calling Bruce princess on one of their camping trips.
Bruce had slipped up that time. He'd been lulled by the intimacy of stargazing together. Plus, Clint had disarmed him when he'd handed him a treat, after trying to get Bruce to ask for it earlier. Bruce couldn't explain it to him, but Bruce didn't allow himself to want things. Even little things, because it was too easy to start wanting more and more.
He especially couldn't ask for things he worked hard at repressing any longing for. It would paint a bull's eye on his heart if he did. He couldn't have a home, a lover like Betty had been to him, real friends, a career. The pain if he lost those things again would be unbearable. The most he'd dared was being a member of the team, and these trips on his day out. Even so, he was always prepared to give his day up, if Hulk was needed.
He'd screwed up and told Clint about Ross being Cetus and that the constellation he felt belonged to him had been named for a helpless prisoner. He'd shared one of his deepest fears. Well, he'd just said the name, Andromeda. Who, yes, was a princess. Bruce thought that was funny, too. Clint didn't get the prisoner reference. Bruce had been lucky.
Then there was that terrible day when the Red Hulk attacked the helicarrier, cutting short Bruce's fishing trip. Clint flying him back to the mansion. Wanting to help, Clint blocking him. Arguing.
Clint telling him he wasn't an Avenger, any more than Clint's bow was an Avenger.
Shock. Hurt. Shame. Keeping all of his emotions from showing on his face. Fear, that Clint was right, that when he wasn't Hulk he had nothing to contribute to the team. Wondering if the rest of the Avengers felt that way about him. Feeling anger trying to take him over, not wanting to believe what Clint had said. Threatening Clint with Hulk, and feeling ashamed of himself as soon as he said it.
Realizing that Clint was right, as he watched the Red Hulk torturing Clint, and he couldn't do anything to stop him. At last, being able to overcome the drug Falcon had shot him with and change to Hulk, saving Clint.
Clint had told the truth. Bruce Banner was no Avenger.
Transforming back from Hulk to realize that Cap had talked Hulk into surrendering to Ross.
Abandoned. Isolated, gamma dampeners and drugs making sure Hulk couldn't bust them out. Protecting Hulk, whom he loved like a little brother, from the gibes and pain Bruce had to endure.
Losing track of time, and thinking, when he was clear enough of the drugs, of what Clint had said. Bruce Banner was just a liability. It was Hulk who was needed by the team. Nobody would miss Bruce if he didn't show up. Well, Jan might, a little. She'd soon forget him, though.
They all would.
Finally released, Hulk leaving for some alone time in the woods. Sitting under a tree to wait until it was Hulk's turn again. The call notifying him that Hulk was needed to fight Galactus and Hulk going to help. Being so proud of him. Noticing that not one of the Avengers had asked Hulk about him at all. Not even Clint.
Deciding that he was just done with coming out. Let Hulk take over; at least he had a place on the team, when he wanted it. Bruce wasn't needed anyway, and all of his research projects seemed like busy work, futile.
He didn't even talk that much to Hulk anymore. Hulk was growing up; he'd be okay without Bruce to explain things to him.
Bruce drifted inside of Hulk, and things felt so distant. He no longer remembered what it had felt like to make love to Betty, to feel the sun on his face, the taste of a cold beer, or the sound of Clint's voice.
Hulk accepted his refusal to come out on his day off, and Bruce kept on refusing.
Then he and Hulk had their showdown. God, it had been awful knowing the Avengers were watching him lose it, feeling weaker and weaker and just wishing everything was over. They would be better off without him around; didn't they see that? Clint grabbing him, his eyes intent on Bruce's.
Then darkness. Crawling away from Hulk, hiding. He knew he was weak, suspected he was dying. Good. Let his existence end. Hulk would never have to give up his body ever again.
Then the hallucinations had started. Jan and Clint. They weren't real, of course, but having them here to keep him company, especially Clint, who kept kissing him, was a nice way to finally die.
The rush of Bruce's thoughts ended there.
Clint exploded when he felt that last thought. No way in hell was he letting Bruce do this to himself.
He pulled Bruce around so he could look at him and took his chin in his hand, feeling the stubble against his fingers.
He shook his head and frowned at him. Then he bent down and kissed him on the mouth. With tongue.
Bruce's eyes went wide. He looked dazed, baffled. So Clint kissed him again before getting them both up on their feet, Bruce acting like a weeble-wobble toy Clint had played with a long time ago.
Bruce had to talk with Hulk. He trusted that Hulk would set Bruce straight, would make him see that he needed Bruce. Bruce always put other people first; he'd struggle to stay alive if he thought Hulk really did need him. Hulk might die, too, if Bruce died, but Clint didn't know if Hulk knew that. Bruce didn't.
Clint dragged Bruce with him down the tunnel back to the main cave, one arm around Bruce's waist, Jan taking the lead, her stingers lighting the way for him, until Bruce stopped moving his feet at all. His breathing was slowing down, and his eyes were hazy.
Clint picked him up and ran with him. He cursed the way the cave ceiling lowered until he had to drop to his knees. Jan, pixie size, flew back and waved him out of the way. She bunched her hands in what was left of Bruce's waistband and lifted him enough so that his head cleared the floor. Clint could see the strain on her face, before she turned and flew slowly down the tunnel, Bruce's body bowed under her.
Clint scrambled after them, emerging in time to see Hulk cradling Bruce to him, holding him like Bruce was a sleepy child. Clint stumbled close to them, looking up at Hulk.
Hulk looked worried. He rumbled, “Banner, you're wrong. I'll be mad if you do this. Wake back up. You're making Cupid cry.”
Clint raised a hand to his cheek and felt the wetness. Jan flew over and changed to human size, lacing her fingers with his.
Clint stared at Hulk and Bruce, realizing that it was all out of his hands. He'd done his best to make Bruce feel he was wanted, and the idiot kept thinking he was only a hallucination.
There wasn't much that scared Clint. Bruce, like this, terrified him.
Jan squeezed his hand hard. He hadn't been the only one crying. Her eyes were red and swollen.
There were footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Doctor Strange move quickly to Hulk and Bruce. He laid a hand on Bruce's heart and his other hand on Hulk's chest.
He was quiet for a moment, then said with authority, “In the name of the Eternal Vishanti - let the trance be done!”
Bruce arched his back. His arm,dangling limp and lifeless, moved. Hulk gripped him tighter, and Doctor Strange looked at Clint and Jan and said, “You have both done well. Bruce Banner's and the Hulk's fate is in their hands now, for the crisis is upon them. Return now.” He shouted then, tones ringing in the cave, “May the Omnipotent Oshtur restore thee to the land of the living!”
There was another flash of light and then he and Jan were back in the cell-turned-hospital room, holding Bruce's hands. Doctor Strange was there, standing next to Bruce with paddles in his hand, a crash cart next to him.
“Hawkeye, Wasp, let go of his hands and step back. His heart's beating too fast.” He glanced at the EKG monitor. “He's beginning to show signs of ventricular fibrillation and might go into cardiac arrest.” He looked up at the security camera. “I could use some help in here!” The EKG monitor started blaring out an alarm, the up and down waves collapsing into a weak irregular pattern. “Right now, people. He's in VF.”
Doctor Strange flipped switches on the crash cart and Hawkeye heard the whine of the charge building up. He gently rubbed the paddles together, and held them over Bruce's bared chest.
Two nurses rushed in and as he and Jan watched, Doctor Strange shocked Bruce, the nurses assisting. Bruce didn't respond. The procedure was repeated, and a nurse injected a drug into the IV. The other nurse began chest compressions, her arms straight as she bent over Bruce and pressed her hands hard against Bruce's sternum in a rocking motion. Watching the monitor, Doctor Strange ordered the nurse to stop and step back. He shocked Bruce again. Clint held his breath, frozen. Then the EKG changed sounds and started recording Bruce's heartbeat again, the pattern something that Clint recognized from hospital stays.
The flurry of activity continued for some time, but at last Doctor Strange motioned for them to come closer.
“For now, I think Bruce has decided to live. He's not out of danger, though, and he's not going to be able to shake off this coma right away.” Strange leaned over Bruce and called his name. Bruce didn't react. Then Strange squeezed Bruce's neck muscle and Bruce opened his eyes and slowly bent his arm before he went limp again. He didn't focus on anything, and a moment later, he closed his eyes.
“He's gone up to a six in the Glasgow Coma Scale.” Strange said.
Clint said, “So he is improving.”
“For the moment. Hopefully, he'll continue. I think you both managed to reach him enough that he decided to fight off death. And you reunited him with Hulk, which was needed in order for him to start to heal.”
Jan said, “That was so...”
Doctor Strange smiled. “Yes, it was. Do you both remember what you learned from Bruce and Hulk?”
Clint and Jan both nodded.
“I think Hulk will retain what he learned from you, but Bruce... mmm, my gut feeling is that it will be a lot more hazy for him. He may or may not know the feelings you shared with him, or remember what he learned about you both. ”
He ushered them away from Bruce then, towards the wall.
Strange's expression turned pensive.“It's going to be important that Bruce have support when he leaves here.”
Clint said, “He will. We'll meet with the team, make things right for him.”
Jan said, voice cracking a little, “He just gave up.”
Doctor Strange nodded. “He's on the verge of clinical depression, and frankly, I'm not sure how well he might tolerate an antidepressant. I'd rather see him in therapy. I think Doctor Samson would treat him, if Bruce and Hulk felt comfortable with him. I know there's some history between them.”
Clint said, “Yeah, they kinda go way back. I saw Doc Sampson with him at the Cube.”
“Also,” Doctor Strange continued, “he should continue with healthy living practices such as yoga, exercise, meditation and his nutrition is in serious need of an overhaul. He's low on vitamin B and D, and he'll be getting shots before he leaves here.”
“Okay.” Jan said. “I've always wanted to learn yoga. I'll get Bruce to teach me, because he does know it. He told me that once.”
Doctor Strange glanced back over at Bruce. “This arrangement between Hulk and Bruce- it's not healthy for Bruce at all. It encouraged him to isolate himself, increased his depression. Ideally, Bruce needs to be in his original body much more than just one day a month.”
Clint asked, “What about Hulk? If he's not allowed out unless we need him to fight, how will that affect him?”
“I suspect he'll be extra cranky, but physically, since his was the secondary manifestation, I don't believe he'll be harmed like Bruce has been harmed. I'm not suggesting that they just reverse their arrangement, but something more equal would benefit Bruce and not harm Hulk.”
“That was a crazy deal they made, but ya know, we didn't think it was anybody's business but theirs,” Clint said, shaking his head.
“Bruce might resist a new arrangement. He's very invested in Hulk being seen as a hero, not a monster,” Doctor Strange said.
“It's an uphill battle to get people to realize that,” Clint said, grimacing.
“Something else to consider: Bruce's self-esteem is practically non-existent. He needs to feel like he's contributing to the Avengers, even if you and the other Avengers don't feel he's a teammate.” Doctor Strange looked straight at Clint.
“What? Of course Bruce is an Avenger.” Jan turned to Clint, puzzled, then her big blue eyes turned suspicious.
“Jan? I'll explain later, okay?” Clint felt guilty that his remarks had hit Bruce so hard, but in all honesty, he couldn't take it back. Maybe Bruce could help them out sometimes with science stuff, but he wasn't a fighter. He really wasn't an Avenger. Clint didn't think they should lie to him about that. It was bound to only cause more problems.
Wasp put her hands on her hips and she had the look on her face that meant somebody was about to get blasted with her stingers. “Clinton Francis Barton! Did you tell Bruce he wasn't an Avenger? That was mean. Don't forget I saw you kissing him. You had better be nicer to him from now on.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her expression softened. “Do you really like him?”
He nodded, and she blinked at him, a confused look on her face. “You've got a funny way of showing it. You're always needling him.”
Clint shrugged.“Because I want to see the real him.”
Jan looked bewildered. “The real him?”
“Yeah,” Clint looked at her, wanting to make her understand. “He's slipped up enough times that I know that the real Bruce Banner is in there.”
“I'm not sure I understand.” Jan said, still bewildered.
Clint took her hand. “I'm not saying that his cool as a cucumber act is fake, but he's made himself be that way. Like he's afraid he'll say or do the wrong thing--”
“You mean he's guarded,” she said. “I've noticed that, too.”
Doctor Strange listened, but didn't offer an opinion.
Clint felt his chest tighten, his eyes felt hot and wet. “Jeez, I can't believe I'm saying this, I'm gonna sound like I'm on some stupid bare-your-feelings TV show, but he holds back on his emotions. He won't let himself get excited about something, or annoyed or angry, although I have gotten him a little pissed off at me a few times. And then he just retreats even further. He lets Hulk show feelings for both of them and that's just not right. He's so sad, did you feel that, too? In that cave?”
Jan nodded.
Clint sighed. “I just want him to relax and be himself. Jan, I want to hear him laugh.” He let go of her hand.
She patted his arm. “I want that, too, Clint. And from now on, the Avengers are going to be paying a lot more attention to Bruce.”
“Well, I'm planning on giving him a lot of very personal attention.”
There was a low groan from Bruce and Doctor Strange moved back to Bruce's side, Jan and Clint following him.
Clint looked at Bruce, saw him shifting a little, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again.
He wouldn't lie to Bruce. But from now on, he'd help him find ways that he could contribute to the team, just like Doctor Strange had suggested.
* * *
Chapter Four
Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Clint
It took thirty-six hours for Doctor Strange to show up at the helicarrier and take over Banner's care. Clint knew, from having a furious conversation with Maria Hill earlier over the comm system, that Fury only allowed it because S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctors were stumped.
Now Hill was in Banner's cell, staring assessingly at Banner as he lay comatose. He looked harmless and vulnerable, the last person you would imagine as the Hulk. There was no chance now of Hulk showing up. The gamma dampeners in the cell took care of that.
Hill switched her focus to Clint, narrowing her eyes. “Fury's allowing Doctor Strange access to Banner, but we're going to keep eyes on him. The first time he does something that might compromise the safety of our agents or the helicarrier, we'll deal with him. He won't like it. So, Barton, since it seems that you've put yourself in charge here, keep Strange in line.”
“When will he be here?” Clint indicated Banner with his thumb, moving over to stand next to his hospital bed. “Your guys have come up with zip on how to bring him out of this.”
Jan was next door, bunking in a spare bed, getting some sleep. Clint had been too restless to sleep, or even sit quietly in a chair. He kept patrolling the room, eying the gamma dampener outlets high in the ceiling, thinking about how he could shoot them with an electrical charge arrow to disable them. Just in case Hulk did want to come out.
“Fury's talking with Doctor Strange right now.” She looked at Banner again, and her expression hardened. “Maybe the best thing for everybody would be if he just stayed in a coma.”
Clint exploded. “The Hulk is a damn hero! When will S.H.I.E.L.D. give hounding him a rest? And it's not anybody but S.H.I.E.L.D.'s and the Army's fault that Bruce Banner was on the run and had to defend himself. Didn't anybody ever think to maybe try to help the guy learn to cope with what happened to him in that fucked up experiment? No, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Army, Ross especially, just went gunning for him. He's a genius. Einstein level of smarts, we're talking. I watched him come up with the antidote to the Leader's gamma craziness, and it was impressive. The world could have used his talents, and instead he had to spend years hiding and probably starving half of the time, when he wasn't fighting to stay free.”
Clint couldn't keep his tone of voice respectful, but what the hell. He didn't work for her anymore; he could have an attitude if he wanted, and boy, did he want to unload after watching Banner's vital signs go slowly downhill for the last day and a half.
“You've never talked with him, have you, Assistant Director Hill?” he snarled.
“What's your point, Barton?” Hill replied, and she took a step closer to him.
“Well, if you had you'd know that he's a gentle kind of guy.”
Hill looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me! He levels buildings!”
“If he does, then he's got a good reason. Look. He puts everybody else first, before himself. Even Hulk. Did you know that he only returns to being Banner once every thirty days? How selfless is that?”
Hill looked down at Banner. “That's not in our files. What's his angle?”
Clint blew out a long breath, tired. “He did it, he explained to the rest of us, so that Hulk could have a chance to show that he's a good guy, a real hero.”
“The Hulk can't be trusted.”
“I trust Hulk with my life. So do the rest of the Avengers.”
“Why?”
Clint shrugged. “I know from experience Hulk will sacrifice his own safety to save someone. Out in the desert, after he showed up in Vegas, he could have run for it and he didn't, just so some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could live another day.”
Hill's dark eyes sharpened. “Who? This wasn't in any reports.”
He pointed at his chest. “Me. And Natasha. He intercepted a missile Ross fired that would have creamed me and the Widow. He took that hit for us, even though we were trying to take him down.”
“Why am I just now hearing about this?”
Clint gritted out, “My bad. I didn't finish my paperwork because you know, S.H.I.E.L.D. believed Natasha that I was a double agent and stuck me in the Vault. Then I quit.”
“Well, make your report now.”
“Hulk also saved my ship. The only reason Bobbi Morse and the others are alive is because of him. I admit that I don't have a clue how Banner and Hulk work exactly, but Hulk gets who he is from Banner. So don't go saying that it would be better for us for him to be in a coma.”
He glanced down. Banner wasn't getting better. He might even--”
He crowded her. Almost shaking, he glared, and said, with as much menace as he could, “Don't you ever imply things would be fine if he croaked.”
Hill gave him a look, her dark brown eyes steady. “Back off, Barton. Cool down, or you're out of here.”
He stared hard at her for just a shade over what he guessed she would tolerate and then stepped away. He put his hand on Banner's chest.
Hill raised an eyebrow. “You know, it's just as well you quit S.H.I.E.L.D. , Hawkeye. Your tendency to be insubordinate and that disrespectful mouth of yours would have gotten you in trouble eventually with us.”
“You want to hear what my insubordinate mouth has to say about--”
“Shut it, Barton. Remember why I'm allowing you in here.” She gestured with her thumb towards the bed.
She gave him a tight smile. “But you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent once and a damn good one. Tell you what, I'll take you up on that suggestion. If Banner recovers, he and I will have a conversation.”
Clint counted to ten in his head, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Only if I'm around and he can see me. He doesn't have any reason to believe a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would talk to him without gloating or tricking him somehow. Did S.H.I.E.L.D. even apologize to him for keeping him captive when it was the Red Hulk who wrecked the helicarrier, not him?”
Hill was silent, so, no, neither Banner nor Hulk had received any apology.
She eyed him speculatively. “You're pretty protective of Banner. What's he to you, Barton? Just a teammate, a fellow Avenger?”
Clint just smirked. He didn't mind bamboozling Hill and S.H.I.E.L.D. about this at all. He didn't have any hang-ups about being bisexual.
“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Assistant Director Hill,” he said piously.
Hill snorted. “ A gentleman, no. I was asking you, Barton.” She looked at Banner again, another speculative look on her face. “Don't you Avengers feed him? You should get him cleaned up. He looks unkempt, and that's not just from being sick. Get your boy here a haircut if he comes out of this coma. Talk him into shaving off that scruff, since he can't really pull off a decent beard. Of course, you'll look like you're robbing the cradle then. Those freckles make him look like Tom Sawyer.”
Clint suddenly felt the hours of no sleep catching up with him. Jesus, he was tired. And he was tired of fencing with Hill. “That's a problem I won't mind having, if he makes it through this.” Let S.H.I.E.L.D. think Banner was his boyfriend. Maybe that would make them less likely to mess with the guy in the future. Besides, Banner was the clueless sort. He probably wouldn't get it, if anybody from S.H.I.E.L.D. made some remark to him about being Clint's boy toy.
They both looked towards the door as it opened, and a tall man, dark-haired with white at his temples walked into the room. The way he dressed made Clint a little nostalgic for the circus. He wore a long royal-blue tunic-shirt, a broad yellow sash around his waist, trousers that looked like leggings, and some outlandish bauble was hanging around his neck. He topped off the colorful ensemble with a red cape. He and Thor would look a pair if they ever met up. This had to be Doctor Strange.
Strange spoke softly, but Clint heard what he said clearly. I summon forth the all-seeing Eye of Agamotto! Now let my amulet open! Strange touched the amulet, and Clint blinked. The eye in the middle of it was open. That was weird. When he'd first glanced at it, he was sure that eye had been closed. He was an archer, a sniper. He didn't make mistakes about what he looked at. Ever.
Strange looked calmly at Clint and Hill, and his eyes moved to Banner. He studied him for a long moment, and then took Banner's chart from where it was hanging on the wall and started flipping through it.
“I'm Doctor Strange. Assistant Director Hill, is it not? You'll need to leave. In order to treat Doctor Banner, I require privacy.”
Hill rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? Look, Banner is under surveillance. That's not going to change. But I'm needed elsewhere, anyway, so I'm out of here.” She nodded at Clint. “Barton, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, if he pulls through.”
When she'd left, Strange finished reading the chart and then gave Clint a penetrating stare for an uncomfortably long time, until Clint was ready to snap at him to take a picture. He managed to bite his tongue, though, because flaky as Circus Act here seemed, none of the other doctors had helped Banner. He was still a three on the Glasgow Coma Scale. So, maybe this guy could do something, and Clint would try to not tick him off.
Strange laid his hand on Banner's forehead and was quiet for ten minutes. Clint didn't disturb him. All he was doing was touching Banner, that seemed harmless enough. He ended his little creepy session by taking his palm and holding it above Banner's face a few inches and then slowly moving his palm down Banner's face and body, never touching him. Then he turned toward the door.
Jan stumbled in, her eyes still sleepy, her dark hair a little tousled. “Maria told me Doctor Strange was here. How's Bruce doing, Clint? Oh!” She startled when she caught sight of Strange.
Strange turned his gaze on her, and after he'd stared at her long enough that Jan had started to flush a little, he said, “Miss Van Dyne, correct? Known as the Wasp.”
“Yes, that's me. Hello. We're all hoping you can help Bruce.” Jan glanced down at Banner.
Doctor Strange looked down at him, too, then looked in her eyes. “Your friend has lost the balance he has so precariously maintained for so long. If he cannot find it again, he will remain adrift in this coma.”
Jan breathed out a soft, painful, “Oh.”
“I sense that you care for Bruce Banner and the Hulk. Will you lend them your strength?”
Wasp nodded frantically. “Bruce and Hulk are my friends. But Doctor, I really don't know Bruce very well. None of us do.”
“So I surmised, as I gazed at him with the Eye of Agamatto. He has been alone for a long time, and his spirit has been injured. He has forgotten the joy of companionship, and love. He has exiled himself, and is tempted by the siren call of oblivion.”
“The what kind of call?” Clint asked.
“He would let the Hulk live, and Banner die.”
Jan gasped. “Oh, Bruce.”
Clint heard the guy's words again in his head, and he felt numb, frozen. Banner didn't want... He couldn't complete that thought. Banner had looked at Clint with such earnestness when they'd met, challenging him. He'd been stoic and brave when he'd been caught.
He remembered watching shooting stars with him and hearing Banner talk about the wonder he found in his work. Campfires, the cabin, watching him meditate in the garden.
Strange turned to him. “And you, Clinton Barton. Your help would also be welcomed.”
Clint swallowed and nodded.
“You have guarded this man fiercely in the past and stand by him now, weapons ready, should an enemy come to harm him. Through the Eye of Agamotto I see that the Hulk is your comrade and that a clear bond exists between you, one forged in battle and companionship.”
Strange gentled his voice. “Consider my words. You deny Bruce Banner the bond you share with the Hulk, but you would lay down your life to save his. You defend him with strong words to others, yet say nothing to him of the respect you feel for his intelligence or the anger you feel for the injustices he has endured. He intrigues you; you wish to stir him, to make him respond, and you feel frustration when he will not show the reactions you desire.”
Clint opened his mouth and then shut it again. This guy, how--?
Strange pointed a long finger at him. “You appoint yourself his guardian, but in his mind you are nothing but his keeper. He feels you despise him and it is only your duty to the Avengers that keeps you by his side. Learn your own heart, Hawkeye.”
Clint felt his face twist up into a protest, because, hello, how the hell did he know what Clint thought about anything? It wasn't like they'd even exchanged two words.
But... this doctor was right. He'd nailed how Clint felt about Hulk and Banner, and if he was right, if Banner thought Clint despised him, then Clint was going to have words with Doctor Bruce Banner. Just because Banner wasn't an Avenger didn't mean he despised him.
Strange motioned for Wasp to come to Banner's bed. “Janet Van Dyne, you have a good heart. You extended friendship to this man when most believed him to be evil. If you are willing, take his hand.”
Jan moved quickly to Banner's side and picked up one of his hands, holding it tightly.
Strange looked again at Clint. “Bruce Banner is dying. When he does, perhaps the Hulk will return, or it may be that he will die as well. I cannot see their path beyond Banner's death.”
Clint felt his gut lurch. “Jesus.”
Strange kept looking intently at Clint. “Do you wish to lend them your strength to try to save them? They will know your feelings toward them, there can be no privacy between you.”
Clint shrugged, not much caring about that. Banner was fucking dying. “I'll help. What do you want me to do?”
“Take his other hand and join hands with Wasp.” Strange waited until Clint and Janet had linked their hands with Banner's limp ones in a circle. “Relax your minds, please. Think on Bruce Banner's and the Hulk's places within your hearts and within the Avengers.”
Strange placed one hand on Banner's forehead and the other one on Banner's chest. “You will observe, and he will know you are present and know your thoughts that are concerned with him, but you will not be able to directly communicate. The energy that requires is not something within your grasp. Get ready. It will help if you close your eyes.”
Clint let his eyes fall shut, feeling Banner's cold hand in his right hand and Jan's warm one in his left. He pictured Hulk, sharing a joke with him at Tony's expense.
He remembered Banner working in his cabin, intent and for once too involved in his research to keep that bland facade going.
Strange began chanting in a low murmur. “Banish despair through light. By the power that moves and breathes and flows and grows with us as one --may Nirvalon quash all despair through pure white light. Be done!”
There was a bright flash of incandescent light Clint saw even though his eyes were still shut. A jolt ran through him, passing to Banner. From the gasp Janet made, he guessed she'd experienced the same thing.
In his mind, he heard Strange tell him and Jan to open their eyes.
When he did, he found himself in a wooded area, partly up a mountain, the sound of rain patterning down on leaves making a kind of music. It looked to be South or Central America. He and Jan were standing next to each other. Banner was nowhere to be seen, but Clint spotted Doctor Strange all right. The guy was levitating in a cross-legged position, way, way up in the air in front of a large cave opening.
Jan shrank down and flew up to the cave's entrance. She disappeared inside, and Clint started climbing up the mountain as rapidly as he could, sometimes finding himself sliding back a little on the wet terrain before catching himself against a tree or grabbing a vine.
It seemed like a long time before he scrambled into the mouth of the cave, damp from the light mist, and all he could think about during his climb was that Doctor Strange had said that Banner was dying.
Clint wasn't having that. It made him furious that Banner thought so little of himself that he was willing to just kiss off. He was even more furious with himself, and to some extent, the other Avengers and Hulk, for not seeing what was going on right underneath their noses.
Doctor Strange was still levitating, like he was sitting on an invisible magic carpet right outside of the cave's entrance. Clint knew this wasn't happening in real life, that they were still in the helicarrier in Banner's cell. He and Jan were holding Banner's hands, and somehow Doctor Strange had sent them into Banner's mind.
So okay. Weird, but you didn't stay an Avenger if you couldn't learn to roll with the weird.
He'd check out this cave and see what was up. Jan hadn't flown out of here, so he figured that he was in the right place. The cave shaded from dim to barely visible once he'd gone around a bend. Jan had her stingers to light things up, but Clint pulled a small flashlight out from its snug place on his quiver and shone it ahead.
He heard a familiar rumble then, an angry tone to the deep voice. Hulk was there.
Clint ran ahead, skidding to a slide on the damp rock. Catching himself, he turned another corner, feeling like he did as a battle began, sharp and observant, adrenaline shooting through his body, ready to let his reflexes take over to deal with the threat facing him.
Hulk was sitting on the ground, huffing impatiently. Clint walked over to him cautiously. It was never a good idea to startle the big guy. Jan was perched on his shoulder, and she patted Hulk a couple of times before flying off into a smaller side cave by Hulk's big green feet.
Clint waved at him. Hulk snorted. “You and Wasp aren't real. Don't know why I dreamed you up. But then, I shouldn't be real. I'm only around because Banner screwed up. And I wasn't wanted, not for a long, long time.”
Clint tried to answer him but found that words wouldn't form in his mouth. Instead, he pointed at Hulk, then at himself and held up two fingers tight against each other.
Hulk grinned, his teeth bright in the dimness.
“Yeah, and Wasp was the first one to take my side. She likes to come and sit on my shoulder. She knows I'd smash anything that tried to hurt her. It makes her feel better.”
Clint stepped closer to him, wondering if Hulk had just now learned that stuff about Janet.
“So. Since Cupid's not really here and Wasp has gone to find Banner, think I'll indulge myself.”
Hulk casually reached out and snagged him, then plopped him in his lap, two huge arms wrapped around him.
At that touch, understanding flooded through him. He felt the utter confusion and fear Hulk experienced upon his moment of birth, and the pain that soon followed with men shooting guns at him. He felt what Hulk had felt: Banner's horror at what he had done to himself, and his determination to utterly kill his huge green alter-ego through wiping him out with more science. Then when Banner couldn't totally stop Hulk from breaking through when Banner was scared or hurt or angry, how he'd trained himself through meditation and yoga and even drugs to keep Hulk submerged. Hulk had been hurt by Banner's rejection, his hatred of Hulk a hatred of himself.
Monster. That was what Banner and everyone else called him. And since Banner couldn't accept Hulk, when Hulk emerged his rage was two-fold. Anger at whoever or whatever was hurting him and anger at Banner for his denial of what Hulk was to him. Because they were not separate, not really. Hulk was Banner, the part of him that wanted to fight back, to stop the tormentors, his childhood wish to be powerful and strong granted like a fairy's wish, and like any dealing with the fairy folk, you might get your wish, but not in the way you thought.
Banner might not like Hulk, but he needed him. Hulk rescued him and others over and over. Hulk might be angry, but he wasn't a monster. He didn't hurt people, not even those soldiers who kept finding his hiding places and who kept building bigger and bigger weapons to capture him.
But Banner walled him out, wouldn't share any of his life with Hulk.
Then Banner began to talk to him, said he was sorry for trying to destroy him. He said he was going to learn to live with him and asked Hulk what he wanted.
Banner gave it to him. He let himself stay big and green for longer periods of time, and he began to teach Hulk about the world. He often told Hulk he was proud of him for the decisions Hulk made when he was the one outside. Even when Hulk was on the inside, Banner would talk with him, about things like ethics and morals and sacrifice and redemption. He said he liked being Hulk's mentor.
Clint saw himself and Natasha from Hulk's eyes, small, annoying, but clever hunters. Hulk admired them for their abilities, and the man with the bow was so quick and agile. Hulk didn't want to hurt them; he would run away so they wouldn't be able to keep up.
Then Ross - Hulk despised him for forcing him to fight so often against the Army - had showed up. Ross didn't care if he killed people on his own side, as long as he could capture Hulk and experiment on him. Banner had explained how Ross said he belonged to the Army, that he was a weapon that needed to be recovered so more weapons could be made from his blood.
Clint felt Hulk's decision to save the annoying aircraft and the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents from the missile Ross had fired at them. Hulk knew he'd just given up his only chance of escape.
Banner didn't let Hulk experience any pain or suffering, the way Banner did, if he could help it. But sometimes Banner was hurt too badly and then Hulk would come out to help, if he could. Sometimes they used science, gamma dampeners, or strong drugs, to keep him locked away inside of Banner.
When Hulk had escaped from his gamma prison, Banner had told him he'd done the right thing by saving Doc Samson. He challenged Hulk to be a hero. Hulk had agreed to try, if he let Hulk stay out.
Hulk was tired of running, of not having a home, and he longed for something that Banner told him was friendship. Not that Banner had much of that, not anymore. Hulk wanted people to see him as a good person who would do good things.
Joining the Avengers was his chance to do just that. Clint was surprised to feel just how nervous the big green guy had been about working with the Avengers. Trust was difficult to build, both with Banner and with the Avengers, but Banner gave him control and agreed to only be outside one day of the month. It had been a test, and Hulk had really thought Banner wouldn't do it. But he had.
Trusting the Avengers took time. Hulk had never lived with other people before, or even had his own bed. The first one was too small, but Tony built him a bigger one, and he had a room of his own and a big house to live in. He'd been cranky a lot, scared about messing up. But he'd begun to think he might be able to do this, be an Avenger and a hero. That hadn't lasted.
Amora the Enchantress had ruined those first attempts he'd had to trust the team, making him think they were tricking him. He'd left to sulk when she was defeated, sure that it was impossible for him to really be accepted.
Hawkeye had tracked him down in Canada. Hulk had dubbed him Robin Hood in his head. Hulk liked stories, and Banner often told him his favorites when Hulk was hiding from others in the jungle or caves or in the snow-covered lands. Men with weapons had hunted Robin Hood, too, but he fought for justice anyway. Like Hulk could do, Banner had told him.
This Robin Hood wasn't afraid of Hulk and he demanded to see Banner or he'd fight him. Hulk was so amused at that he laughed and let Banner change places with him.
Hawkeye became a friend the day Hulk agreed to rejoin the Avengers. Hulk backed him up when Tony thought Clint might be a Skrull. The two of them liked to swim together, hang out, eat pizza, and watch Cap wipe the floor with Tony when he wasn't in his armor. Hulk thought Hawkeye was funny, and he enjoyed the back and forth teasing.
They became bro's, according to Hawkeye. That empty place inside of Hulk didn't seem so big anymore when Hawkeye would nudge him or fight enemies beside him.
One day, Hulk realized that he loved Clinton Barton, Hawkeye. It made him feel content. When Banner and Hulk talked about it, Banner had smiled at him.
Hulk dropped a kiss onto the top of Clint's head. Clint wiggled a little, and patted Hulk's arm. Hulk opened up his arms and Clint climbed out of his lap.
Clint held up his fist to Hulk, who gave him a bump with his own much larger one. It was an unspoken promise that he would have Hulk's back.
Huh. Hulk liked him. Really liked him, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about that. They were friends, sure. Maybe even friends who might explore some other possibilities. But. Hulk seemed... well, kind of young, like a teenager.
Like most teens, he could be pretty self-absorbed at times, and a little oblivious to other people's needs. Hulk hadn't thought much about Banner's not wanting to take his day off, not until he realized Hawkeye and the others were concerned about Banner. He was plenty worried about him now, though.
Hulk looked him up and down and said, “You sure had a lot to tell me for a hallucination.”
Clint held out his hands in a “What?” gesture.
Hulk crossed his arms, looked thoughtful. “Hmph. I thought being in a circus would have been more fun.”
Clint didn't just roll his eyes, he practically rolled his whole body. Funny. He hadn't realized that Hulk was learning about him all the time he'd been learning about Hulk.
Hulk rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face. “And you like me just fine, but it's Banner you want to do things with, uh, a lot more than kissing.”
Clint boggled at what Hulk had just said. Him, Banner. Sexy times together. He thought about it, flipping rapidly through his memories of being with Banner. Okay, fine. He wanted that.
He made a face, understanding better ol' Doc Strange's advice that he needed to learn his own heart.
“You should go and tell him, hallucination. Maybe then he'll stop being so stubborn and come out of his hidey-hole.”
It was like he'd been putting together pieces of a difficult puzzle for a long time. Now it was finished, and he could clearly see what the picture was all about. He wanted that skinny guy with his big brown eyes. He wanted to strip the clothes off him and run his hands over Banner's body and play connect the freckles with his tongue. He wanted to make Doctor Banner, boy genius, lose that calm manner of his and just fly apart, hear him beg Clint to touch him like that, again, and again.
A Clint Barton blow-job special should do the trick.
If he went into that smaller cave, where Banner was hiding from life, and touched him, then Banner was going to know Clint wanted to have sex with him. Awkward, awkward, awkward. Because he was pretty sure that Banner didn't feel the same way about him. Doctor Strange had said Banner thought of Clint as his keeper. Someone who was only with him because it was his job, not because he actually liked him. And okay, he hadn't gone out of his way to let Banner know that he always volunteered for babysitting him. In his defense, though, he hadn't figured out that he did like him until now. Who knew?
He wondered if Banner had decided that none of the Avengers liked him. Hell, it had taken six months before they had even asked if he was okay. If anything, that was just ammunition for Banner's argument.
Well, fuck that.
So Banner didn't like him very much. Clint was always up for a challenge. He'd get Banner to come around; he'd be nice to him for a change, and if he couldn't seduce one socially inept and sexually deprived scientist, then he'd eat his bow.
He'd start with touch, because he had a feeling Banner was starving for just normal human affection. Pats on his arm, slaps on the back, an arm draped around his shoulders, he'd have the guy dizzy with all the attention he planned on giving him.
The Hulk didn't like shirts. When Hulk let Banner take his place, there would be a prime opportunity to be all over that half-naked body. Clint was good at improvising. Figuring out how many ways he could get his hands touching Banner's arms and chest would be entertaining, to say the least.
Unless...
f Banner truly wasn't interested then he'd keep his hands to himself. He wouldn't be creepy towards the guy. He'd keep things reined in at the buddy level, if he didn't get some feedback that Banner was enjoying what Clint planned.
But even if sex never happened, things were going to change. He'd get the guy to be his friend, at least. Banner needed one worse than anybody Clint had ever seen.
There was no use in stalling anymore. Who knew how long this mystical shit was going to last anyway, so he should just go find Banner and ‘fess up about his intentions.
On hands and knees, he crawled into the small cave until he could stand up again. He saw a dim light ahead. When he rounded another bend, he saw two figures. Banner was curled up on the ground, his back to Hawkeye and to normal sized Janet, whose hands were giving off a soft glow. Jan was patting Banner's back.
She shot a guilty look at Clint, when he knelt next to them. Giving Banner a small kiss on the side of his face, she scooted back far enough to give them some privacy, waving a hand to Clint.
Her message was clear enough. Clint felt like he did when he had an arrow ready, the split second before letting it fly.
Once he did this, there was no taking it back. Banner was going to know all about his mixed-up feelings towards him.
He stretched out his hand to imitate Jan, to pat Banner on his back. But Banner hadn't changed his posture for her, hadn't rolled over to look her in the eye or sit up.
Well. Begin as he meant to go on. Being subtle just wasn't Clint. Banner was at the point where something drastic needed to be done, or he'd die here in his mind, and very likely his body would, too. And Clint needed both of them to live. Hulk and Bruce.
Bruce. Clint rolled around the sound of Banner's name in his head, formed the word with his lips even though no sound accompanied his pronunciation. Bruce. Bruce Banner. Bruce Banner, genius, thin and boyish looking. How had Clint missed the cuteness factor with this guy? How had he not figured out his own attraction to Bruce?
Clint liked smart. He had liked that about Natasha, too, even more than her pretty green eyes and her looks. He'd flirted with Bobbi Morse during their mutual missions, and it wasn't just because of her blond hair and long legs and the dash of freckles across her cheeks. She was another smart one. Bobbi was actually Doctor Barbara Morse, scientist. Intelligence was such a turn on, and Bruce was brimming with smarts. His messy mop of light brown hair, his wary brown eyes and freckles, and those long legs didn't hurt, though.
He'd had years to convince Bruce to be with him and he'd wasted such opportunities. And now Bruce had abandoned wanting to be part of the Avengers. He’d even begun to abandon life in his own body.
Clint felt anger of his own boiling up, at Bruce for giving up, and at himself for being such a jerk to this guy who'd had nothing but crap shoveled on top of him since the first time he'd transformed into Hulk.
Still kneeling, Clint bent over Bruce, grabbing him firmly, yanking him away from the wall of the cave. Bruce's eyes, which had been closed, flew open as Clint got to his feet and dragged him backwards.
Wha?” He sounded shocked but Clint didn't know whether it was from being manhandled or from the mental info dump about Clint and Clint's desire to do the horizontal bop with him. Bruce's arms were flailing; he was off-balance and couldn't get his feet under him. Clint didn't let go.
Clint crouched down, putting his back against the cave wall, ignoring how his quiver pushed against him. He decided to take a hint from Hulk- maneuvering Bruce, who'd stopped struggling, until he was firmly seated between Clint's legs. Clint draped his legs over Bruce's, partly to make sure he stayed put, partly to keep him warm. Bruce felt cold to him.
He wrapped his arms around Bruce, whose back was rigid against his chest, and kissed him on his neck. Bruce started shaking his head back and forth in denial. Clint tightened his arms a little more and kissed him again.
Bruce was still stiff in his arms, but after the third kiss, Clint felt him tilt his head slightly, relaxing against Clint's chest, exposing his neck a little more. Clint took that subtle surrender as an invitation to keep kissing Bruce, who shivered when Clint laid delicate kisses on his ear. Okay. Found one erogenous zone.
Dazed, Bruce murmured, “I really am hallucinating.”
Clint wished he could actually talk to Bruce, tell him that he'd just figured out a few things, that it was going to be different now between them. He hoped that was what Bruce was feeling from him, but who knew what exactly Bruce was learning about him. Maybe more about Clint learning his craft as an archer during his time in the circus, maybe about some of the missions S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him on.
He couldn't control what Bruce was learning, but he could use his lips and his arms to let Bruce know that he was wanted.
Those kisses started off as Clint's shorthand for “Hey, I like you. See, 'cause I'm kissing you,” but as he took in Bruce's life and feelings, he gentled them, hoping Bruce would take some comfort from the soft touch of lips to his skin. Now was not the time to be leaving hickeys. God, he'd kind of known that Bruce's life had sucked, but he hadn't known it had sucked way before he'd had his little accident with gamma radiation.
All Clint could do was hold on to Bruce, riding out images and emotions so powerful, Clint felt like they could swamp him.
Mommy screaming. Hands coming at him, slapping him, gripping small arms too hard, twisting them, pain shooting through his body. Tossing him carelessly against walls, the nasty smell of cigarettes and Daddy's beer and booze, Daddy telling him he should have hidden faster. ”I sorry, I sorry, Daddy. Stop, stop!”
Only it hadn't stopped. Not for years. Not until the police came and took Daddy away, and Bruce had to leave his mother's body there on the garage floor.
Never feeling like he had a home, even though his aunt was kind enough to him. Feeling out of place, so much smaller and younger than the other kids in his classes.
In trouble constantly for losing his temper and breaking things. Learning to not allow himself to feel anger, to just eat it instead, and somewhere deep inside he pulsed with self-hatred for not being strong enough to fend off bullies, and most of all, for not being able to stop his father from killing his mother.
Embracing science, loving the scientific method because it was so rational, seeing the narrowed eyes of jealous peers and teachers, mentors, as he would leapfrog over their ideas. Being awarded scholarships, grants. He loved his research.
Finding happiness and contentment in helping other people who needed it, traveling to Central and South America with various volunteer groups to help with medical and educational projects. Heading up the research project on a gamma resistant serum to protect soldiers.
Falling in love. Betty Ross loving him back. Not even her father's disapproval could dim his joy at being with her.
Deciding that he should be the one the serum was tested on. The accident, where he was bombarded with gamma radiation. Miscalculation or deliberate sabotage, he just didn't know.
The first metamorphosis.
Pain, fear, anger, outrage, the overwhelming desire to destroy the machines and guns that were hurting him. Seeing the fear in Betty's eyes before the Hulk took over completely and Bruce Banner was shoved into a place in the monster's mind.
Horror when he came back to himself after that first transformation, mostly naked, cold, hungry and thirsty. Lost. So lost. General Ross, Betty's father, wanting to capture him.
Cutting his ties to Betty, to his old life. Years spent hiding, running, battling the Hulk, trying to keep him contained. Hating his life; hating the Hulk.
Always watching for the Hulkbuster units and Ross. Traveling. Dumpster diving. Blisters and calluses from manual labor in jobs where nobody cared about his name or ID. Hungry and cold and dirty far too often as he wandered, always on edge, never able to relax.
Captured. Tortured under the guise of scientific experimentation. Hulk breaking them free. Captured again. General Ross gloating. Restraints, drugs that left him dazed and compliant. Being made to watch videos of the destruction the Hulk had caused. Noticing that the Hulk went out of his way to avoid hurting innocents. Making tentative overtures to Hulk. Realizing that Hulk was not a monster, that a cure was not the way for him and Hulk. Hulk was just as much a part of this person called Bruce Banner as was the guy in the original body.
Escape again. Nightmares. Hiding himself in rainforests, Canada's wilderness, slums, sharing abandoned houses with junkies. Hitchhiking. Loneliness. Flashbacks. Forgetting Betty's voice, the shades of brown in her hair. Taking a risk and going back to Willowdale to see her. She'd moved on, had a new lover. She looked happy, so he was happy for her.
Finding solace in the woods; learning to treasure small things that brought him happiness: A child playing peek a boo with him on a bus. Hulk jumping into waves for the first time. Tutoring whatever college or high school kids crossed his path in science and math. A ride out of the rain.
Saving a pot-grower's life and working for him. Taking the money to buy lab equipment and construction supplies. He and Hulk collaborating on his hidden cabin in Canada, deepening the relationship between him and Hulk, slowly building trust on both sides.
Catching wind of what S.H.I.E.L.D. was up to with the gamma transformed men and women in custody. Vegas. Forced to fight, Hulk taking over.
Being in the Cube, arms restrained over his head, half-naked and cold, gamma dampeners holding back Hulk. Meeting Hawkeye again as Bruce, not Hulk, feeling an unreasonable hope that the man would do as Bruce asked and investigate S.H.I.E.L.D.'s purpose in experimenting with the prisoners.
Encouraging Hulk to join with those superheroes who were trying to take down Graviton. Feeling proud of Hulk, and agreeing to stay submerged in Hulk's consciousness, only changing back to Bruce Banner once every thirty days.
Watching as Hulk became an Avenger, encouraging him to make friends with his teammates, patiently trying to teach Hulk how to get along with them. Feeling a sense of satisfaction that his life was useful again, glad that he and Hulk had become Avengers.
Meeting the other Avengers for the first time when he transformed back to Bruce Banner, feeling self-conscious and awkward, his pants in tatters. Jan: the nicest, giving him her boyfriend's clothes to borrow. Tony: friendly but distracted. Thor: confused as to how he could be Hulk, referring to Hulk as Bruce's ogre until Jan got him to stop. Hank: barely speaking to him before going back to his lab.
Meditating out in the garden that first visit, enjoying the respite from the storm of Hulk's emotions. Surrendering his body back to Hulk, knowing that he was doing the right thing for him, giving him his chance to prove he was not a monster, no matter his size and his strength and his skin color.
Staying with the Avengers and feeling a mixture of resignation and hurt that Clint didn't like him at all, but hiding it. Wondering why Clint always got stuck with the unwelcome job of keeping an eye on him.
He and Hulk liked Clint a lot. He was funny and brave and clever, and he was Hulk's friend. He liked looking at Hawkeye's strong arms and his dark blue eyes, and watching him move, so agile, like a gymnast. Look, but not touch. Never touch. Nobody really touched Bruce anyway, except for Cap's hand on his shoulder during one of their infrequent talks. He still kind of treasured feeling Clint's arms around his bare chest when they rode his sky scooter to Bruce's cabin before going to stop the Leader.
Clint liked to needle him. Bruce tried to not let it bother him, but sometimes he didn't want to stay calm or just ignore Clint. Sometimes he wanted to tell him off, or tease him, too. He often thought of what he would say back to Clint. He hardly ever slipped up and said it, though. Clint wanted him to, he knew. Sometimes, he felt that Clint was running experiments on him, to see how much of an ass Clint could be before Bruce got fed up. Clint didn't like it when he couldn't get a rise out of Bruce.
Bruce didn't know how to open up anymore to others. Before he and Hulk had come to an understanding, he'd guarded his emotions like they were a pin in a bomb. If he pulled the pin, let himself react, then suddenly he wasn't Bruce but Hulk. The habit was still strong.
Besides, Clint didn't like him, so there was no point in letting him know Bruce kind of wanted him or blowing up at him. He might stop spending any time with Bruce. Bruce treasured the attention he was given, but he made sure Clint didn't know that. Clint could be fun, and nice, generous, and he made Bruce want to laugh sometimes. He wouldn't risk that, but he was amused at Clint's antics. Even when Clint was cranky. Even when he'd kept calling Bruce princess on one of their camping trips.
Bruce had slipped up that time. He'd been lulled by the intimacy of stargazing together. Plus, Clint had disarmed him when he'd handed him a treat, after trying to get Bruce to ask for it earlier. Bruce couldn't explain it to him, but Bruce didn't allow himself to want things. Even little things, because it was too easy to start wanting more and more.
He especially couldn't ask for things he worked hard at repressing any longing for. It would paint a bull's eye on his heart if he did. He couldn't have a home, a lover like Betty had been to him, real friends, a career. The pain if he lost those things again would be unbearable. The most he'd dared was being a member of the team, and these trips on his day out. Even so, he was always prepared to give his day up, if Hulk was needed.
He'd screwed up and told Clint about Ross being Cetus and that the constellation he felt belonged to him had been named for a helpless prisoner. He'd shared one of his deepest fears. Well, he'd just said the name, Andromeda. Who, yes, was a princess. Bruce thought that was funny, too. Clint didn't get the prisoner reference. Bruce had been lucky.
Then there was that terrible day when the Red Hulk attacked the helicarrier, cutting short Bruce's fishing trip. Clint flying him back to the mansion. Wanting to help, Clint blocking him. Arguing.
Clint telling him he wasn't an Avenger, any more than Clint's bow was an Avenger.
Shock. Hurt. Shame. Keeping all of his emotions from showing on his face. Fear, that Clint was right, that when he wasn't Hulk he had nothing to contribute to the team. Wondering if the rest of the Avengers felt that way about him. Feeling anger trying to take him over, not wanting to believe what Clint had said. Threatening Clint with Hulk, and feeling ashamed of himself as soon as he said it.
Realizing that Clint was right, as he watched the Red Hulk torturing Clint, and he couldn't do anything to stop him. At last, being able to overcome the drug Falcon had shot him with and change to Hulk, saving Clint.
Clint had told the truth. Bruce Banner was no Avenger.
Transforming back from Hulk to realize that Cap had talked Hulk into surrendering to Ross.
Abandoned. Isolated, gamma dampeners and drugs making sure Hulk couldn't bust them out. Protecting Hulk, whom he loved like a little brother, from the gibes and pain Bruce had to endure.
Losing track of time, and thinking, when he was clear enough of the drugs, of what Clint had said. Bruce Banner was just a liability. It was Hulk who was needed by the team. Nobody would miss Bruce if he didn't show up. Well, Jan might, a little. She'd soon forget him, though.
They all would.
Finally released, Hulk leaving for some alone time in the woods. Sitting under a tree to wait until it was Hulk's turn again. The call notifying him that Hulk was needed to fight Galactus and Hulk going to help. Being so proud of him. Noticing that not one of the Avengers had asked Hulk about him at all. Not even Clint.
Deciding that he was just done with coming out. Let Hulk take over; at least he had a place on the team, when he wanted it. Bruce wasn't needed anyway, and all of his research projects seemed like busy work, futile.
He didn't even talk that much to Hulk anymore. Hulk was growing up; he'd be okay without Bruce to explain things to him.
Bruce drifted inside of Hulk, and things felt so distant. He no longer remembered what it had felt like to make love to Betty, to feel the sun on his face, the taste of a cold beer, or the sound of Clint's voice.
Hulk accepted his refusal to come out on his day off, and Bruce kept on refusing.
Then he and Hulk had their showdown. God, it had been awful knowing the Avengers were watching him lose it, feeling weaker and weaker and just wishing everything was over. They would be better off without him around; didn't they see that? Clint grabbing him, his eyes intent on Bruce's.
Then darkness. Crawling away from Hulk, hiding. He knew he was weak, suspected he was dying. Good. Let his existence end. Hulk would never have to give up his body ever again.
Then the hallucinations had started. Jan and Clint. They weren't real, of course, but having them here to keep him company, especially Clint, who kept kissing him, was a nice way to finally die.
The rush of Bruce's thoughts ended there.
Clint exploded when he felt that last thought. No way in hell was he letting Bruce do this to himself.
He pulled Bruce around so he could look at him and took his chin in his hand, feeling the stubble against his fingers.
He shook his head and frowned at him. Then he bent down and kissed him on the mouth. With tongue.
Bruce's eyes went wide. He looked dazed, baffled. So Clint kissed him again before getting them both up on their feet, Bruce acting like a weeble-wobble toy Clint had played with a long time ago.
Bruce had to talk with Hulk. He trusted that Hulk would set Bruce straight, would make him see that he needed Bruce. Bruce always put other people first; he'd struggle to stay alive if he thought Hulk really did need him. Hulk might die, too, if Bruce died, but Clint didn't know if Hulk knew that. Bruce didn't.
Clint dragged Bruce with him down the tunnel back to the main cave, one arm around Bruce's waist, Jan taking the lead, her stingers lighting the way for him, until Bruce stopped moving his feet at all. His breathing was slowing down, and his eyes were hazy.
Clint picked him up and ran with him. He cursed the way the cave ceiling lowered until he had to drop to his knees. Jan, pixie size, flew back and waved him out of the way. She bunched her hands in what was left of Bruce's waistband and lifted him enough so that his head cleared the floor. Clint could see the strain on her face, before she turned and flew slowly down the tunnel, Bruce's body bowed under her.
Clint scrambled after them, emerging in time to see Hulk cradling Bruce to him, holding him like Bruce was a sleepy child. Clint stumbled close to them, looking up at Hulk.
Hulk looked worried. He rumbled, “Banner, you're wrong. I'll be mad if you do this. Wake back up. You're making Cupid cry.”
Clint raised a hand to his cheek and felt the wetness. Jan flew over and changed to human size, lacing her fingers with his.
Clint stared at Hulk and Bruce, realizing that it was all out of his hands. He'd done his best to make Bruce feel he was wanted, and the idiot kept thinking he was only a hallucination.
There wasn't much that scared Clint. Bruce, like this, terrified him.
Jan squeezed his hand hard. He hadn't been the only one crying. Her eyes were red and swollen.
There were footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Doctor Strange move quickly to Hulk and Bruce. He laid a hand on Bruce's heart and his other hand on Hulk's chest.
He was quiet for a moment, then said with authority, “In the name of the Eternal Vishanti - let the trance be done!”
Bruce arched his back. His arm,dangling limp and lifeless, moved. Hulk gripped him tighter, and Doctor Strange looked at Clint and Jan and said, “You have both done well. Bruce Banner's and the Hulk's fate is in their hands now, for the crisis is upon them. Return now.” He shouted then, tones ringing in the cave, “May the Omnipotent Oshtur restore thee to the land of the living!”
There was another flash of light and then he and Jan were back in the cell-turned-hospital room, holding Bruce's hands. Doctor Strange was there, standing next to Bruce with paddles in his hand, a crash cart next to him.
“Hawkeye, Wasp, let go of his hands and step back. His heart's beating too fast.” He glanced at the EKG monitor. “He's beginning to show signs of ventricular fibrillation and might go into cardiac arrest.” He looked up at the security camera. “I could use some help in here!” The EKG monitor started blaring out an alarm, the up and down waves collapsing into a weak irregular pattern. “Right now, people. He's in VF.”
Doctor Strange flipped switches on the crash cart and Hawkeye heard the whine of the charge building up. He gently rubbed the paddles together, and held them over Bruce's bared chest.
Two nurses rushed in and as he and Jan watched, Doctor Strange shocked Bruce, the nurses assisting. Bruce didn't respond. The procedure was repeated, and a nurse injected a drug into the IV. The other nurse began chest compressions, her arms straight as she bent over Bruce and pressed her hands hard against Bruce's sternum in a rocking motion. Watching the monitor, Doctor Strange ordered the nurse to stop and step back. He shocked Bruce again. Clint held his breath, frozen. Then the EKG changed sounds and started recording Bruce's heartbeat again, the pattern something that Clint recognized from hospital stays.
The flurry of activity continued for some time, but at last Doctor Strange motioned for them to come closer.
“For now, I think Bruce has decided to live. He's not out of danger, though, and he's not going to be able to shake off this coma right away.” Strange leaned over Bruce and called his name. Bruce didn't react. Then Strange squeezed Bruce's neck muscle and Bruce opened his eyes and slowly bent his arm before he went limp again. He didn't focus on anything, and a moment later, he closed his eyes.
“He's gone up to a six in the Glasgow Coma Scale.” Strange said.
Clint said, “So he is improving.”
“For the moment. Hopefully, he'll continue. I think you both managed to reach him enough that he decided to fight off death. And you reunited him with Hulk, which was needed in order for him to start to heal.”
Jan said, “That was so...”
Doctor Strange smiled. “Yes, it was. Do you both remember what you learned from Bruce and Hulk?”
Clint and Jan both nodded.
“I think Hulk will retain what he learned from you, but Bruce... mmm, my gut feeling is that it will be a lot more hazy for him. He may or may not know the feelings you shared with him, or remember what he learned about you both. ”
He ushered them away from Bruce then, towards the wall.
Strange's expression turned pensive.“It's going to be important that Bruce have support when he leaves here.”
Clint said, “He will. We'll meet with the team, make things right for him.”
Jan said, voice cracking a little, “He just gave up.”
Doctor Strange nodded. “He's on the verge of clinical depression, and frankly, I'm not sure how well he might tolerate an antidepressant. I'd rather see him in therapy. I think Doctor Samson would treat him, if Bruce and Hulk felt comfortable with him. I know there's some history between them.”
Clint said, “Yeah, they kinda go way back. I saw Doc Sampson with him at the Cube.”
“Also,” Doctor Strange continued, “he should continue with healthy living practices such as yoga, exercise, meditation and his nutrition is in serious need of an overhaul. He's low on vitamin B and D, and he'll be getting shots before he leaves here.”
“Okay.” Jan said. “I've always wanted to learn yoga. I'll get Bruce to teach me, because he does know it. He told me that once.”
Doctor Strange glanced back over at Bruce. “This arrangement between Hulk and Bruce- it's not healthy for Bruce at all. It encouraged him to isolate himself, increased his depression. Ideally, Bruce needs to be in his original body much more than just one day a month.”
Clint asked, “What about Hulk? If he's not allowed out unless we need him to fight, how will that affect him?”
“I suspect he'll be extra cranky, but physically, since his was the secondary manifestation, I don't believe he'll be harmed like Bruce has been harmed. I'm not suggesting that they just reverse their arrangement, but something more equal would benefit Bruce and not harm Hulk.”
“That was a crazy deal they made, but ya know, we didn't think it was anybody's business but theirs,” Clint said, shaking his head.
“Bruce might resist a new arrangement. He's very invested in Hulk being seen as a hero, not a monster,” Doctor Strange said.
“It's an uphill battle to get people to realize that,” Clint said, grimacing.
“Something else to consider: Bruce's self-esteem is practically non-existent. He needs to feel like he's contributing to the Avengers, even if you and the other Avengers don't feel he's a teammate.” Doctor Strange looked straight at Clint.
“What? Of course Bruce is an Avenger.” Jan turned to Clint, puzzled, then her big blue eyes turned suspicious.
“Jan? I'll explain later, okay?” Clint felt guilty that his remarks had hit Bruce so hard, but in all honesty, he couldn't take it back. Maybe Bruce could help them out sometimes with science stuff, but he wasn't a fighter. He really wasn't an Avenger. Clint didn't think they should lie to him about that. It was bound to only cause more problems.
Wasp put her hands on her hips and she had the look on her face that meant somebody was about to get blasted with her stingers. “Clinton Francis Barton! Did you tell Bruce he wasn't an Avenger? That was mean. Don't forget I saw you kissing him. You had better be nicer to him from now on.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her expression softened. “Do you really like him?”
He nodded, and she blinked at him, a confused look on her face. “You've got a funny way of showing it. You're always needling him.”
Clint shrugged.“Because I want to see the real him.”
Jan looked bewildered. “The real him?”
“Yeah,” Clint looked at her, wanting to make her understand. “He's slipped up enough times that I know that the real Bruce Banner is in there.”
“I'm not sure I understand.” Jan said, still bewildered.
Clint took her hand. “I'm not saying that his cool as a cucumber act is fake, but he's made himself be that way. Like he's afraid he'll say or do the wrong thing--”
“You mean he's guarded,” she said. “I've noticed that, too.”
Doctor Strange listened, but didn't offer an opinion.
Clint felt his chest tighten, his eyes felt hot and wet. “Jeez, I can't believe I'm saying this, I'm gonna sound like I'm on some stupid bare-your-feelings TV show, but he holds back on his emotions. He won't let himself get excited about something, or annoyed or angry, although I have gotten him a little pissed off at me a few times. And then he just retreats even further. He lets Hulk show feelings for both of them and that's just not right. He's so sad, did you feel that, too? In that cave?”
Jan nodded.
Clint sighed. “I just want him to relax and be himself. Jan, I want to hear him laugh.” He let go of her hand.
She patted his arm. “I want that, too, Clint. And from now on, the Avengers are going to be paying a lot more attention to Bruce.”
“Well, I'm planning on giving him a lot of very personal attention.”
There was a low groan from Bruce and Doctor Strange moved back to Bruce's side, Jan and Clint following him.
Clint looked at Bruce, saw him shifting a little, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again.
He wouldn't lie to Bruce. But from now on, he'd help him find ways that he could contribute to the team, just like Doctor Strange had suggested.
* * *
Chapter Four