sixthiterationlogs | Hello Darkness My Old Friend

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Hello Darkness My Old Friend

WHO: Bruce Banner
WHERE: South Village Fountain
WHEN: 9/17
OPEN TO: Open to all!
WARNINGS: None yet

BUNKER/SOUTH VILLAGE FOUNTAIN

In the tube, Banner was unconscious. Nothing so restful as a simple dream, that would be too kind, instead his mind was restless. It was a waking nightmare, seeing people turn to dust before his eyes, seeing the looks of pain and loss on the few people in the world he still cared about, and the friend he knew best was missing, gone, who knows where. Everything was wrong. And now he was here. His hair was newly short and gray, his figure average and unassuming, and he woke up suddenly to propulsion that he couldn't possibly be ready for.

This wasn't really the first time he woke up somewhere he shouldn't be, in a place he couldn't remember; this was a common situation. It wasn't even the first time he was in the water, struggling to breathe, his limbs wildly flailing. But it was a rare occurrence that this moment of concern didn't follow with the feeling to the tip of his toes of the other presence waiting. Then again, he and the Hulk had issues. Issues not even close to being addressed. It meant he was vulnerable. It meant many things. Banner finally got himself together and swam up, figuring out which way was up, and broke the surface gasping. To where? To here. Where was here?

Exhausted and with a heavy heart, he sat on the edge of the fountain and breathed deeply, running hands through his wet hair. Nothing seemed familiar around there, but hey, it wasn't a planet geared toward trying to kill him or freak him out. So far. Don't jinx it, Banner. He sat there for a long time, he had no idea how long. He was in no hurry to move. The world was too much right then, and whatever this was, it was a few steps above.

The strangest part of everything was the clothing. The extras. Normally he woke up naked. So there was that one small good thing. It took him awhile before he was up and walking, but eventually it happened.

INN

At first he simply walked around. Nothing was familiar. In fact, he was fairly certain it seemed dissimilar from anything he'd known before. Some things were the same, yes, but Banner couldn't see how the Hulk brought him this far. And he was wearing clothes. What the hell was happening now? Was this another trick from Thanos? That made sense. He clearly liked to torture people. When he saw the inn, he paused. He tried to avoid people most of the time. It was too dangerous, he was too dangerous, except now he wasn't at all and that meant people he walked into could in fact be dangerous to him. He tried to reach out to see if the Hulk was still ignoring him.

There was nothing. No touch. No moment of anger or denial. No feeling whatsoever. Nothing. He was the only on home. At first he couldn't figure out what that meant. All these years later, how could it be? All the years trying to get here, and it just happened when he woke up. Stunned and overwhelmed, he could only stumble over to the outside wall of the Inn and lean against it. Not going in, just hovering there, and then he started to crumble down until he was sitting on the ground, staring off into space.

What was he feeling? Relief? Loss? Fear? Confusion? All of it.

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"Banner." Low, worn- fucking exhausted, honestly, but it was cards on the table time. "Do you know how long I've been dealing with Ross? General Thunderbolt 'can you make this missile more lethal, kid' Ross? Since I was twenty two. SI's was the US' top military contractor for decades, he'd been around my father and around me for as long as he had a position of power in the military and no matter how efficient we made our work, how much we poured into reconstruction or defense all he ever wanted to know was how much more damage we could pack per bullet."

His hand curled around the edges of his workbench, shoulders tense, head hanging low. "I know Ross. I know how he thinks and what he wants. I know he wants more weapons. I know he doesn't give a fuck what it takes to get them, I know he doesn't look at people like you or Wanda as human just as much as I know half the reason I got the reactor taken out was so he wouldn't find an excuse to try and pull it from me the next time I pissed him off, or ask for the specs for the miniaturized reactors again. I know he wanted both of you because I spent every damn week fielding requests, demands, and suits for your blood, for her arrest because you don't get to drop a city on people without getting labeled a war criminal. Maybe I should've been more open as to what the consequences of breaking the law would be but I assumed that, maybe, they would try to not. But don't sit there and tell me 'you don't know Ross' when I dealt with him more than fucking anyone trying to keep the both of you, all of you, safe."

Because that's what he did. And he did it until he couldn't because there wasn't a single argument he could make on their behalf to keep them safe, not a single petition he could make to get them transferred anywhere because there wasn't anywhere that could hold them thanks to Wanda collapsing several floors of the damn compound. Did it matter? Did any of it matter? Tony's shoulders sagged, suddenly, and he turned back to stare at the list. Small things. Concrete things he could build and fix without any of the bullshit expectations or assumptions. "More than half my life I spent handling shit in the realm of public opinion, the court of law, and the bureaucratic red tape to handle SI's projects and contracts. And not one of you trusts me to be able to handle this shit. Kind of expected it from the wonder twins and even Rogers, but you?"

Tony shook his head turning to stare back at Bruce on the bench. "That hurts, Banner. I thought you knew me better than that."

Bruce just shook his head. "And you think I didn't know any of that? You created weapons, Tony. The first thing I knew about you was your company and the work it was in. I used to work with Ross too, before we became enemies. I was going to be his son-in-law. I worked on Project Rebirth, his prize project, created off of your father's work, of which I read extensive notes. Guess what kind of weapons Ross had stockpiled and used against me before you and I became friends. Don't treat me like I'm an idiot who can't see past my own issues, like I can't see the big picture."

He sat, hands together, shoulders low. "I saw the broadcast when you came back, before you became Iron Man, you think just because I was off hiding somewhere that I didn't know what the rest of the world was doing? I watched you, and I think that's why when we met, I was open to your friendship. I admired you. You were someone who was able to change, who was willing to put the work in. And I'm saying this as if its past tense, but it's not. I feel all those things now. When you looked at me, despite everything I was, and told me I was worth saving, I believed you. That trust, that's not something I give easily, but I knew, in my gut." He touched it, as if he could feel it now, pulling him in one direction, instead of roiling in anxiety. "I knew you were the real deal."

Bruce glanced around the forge, taking in the details, and he wasn't angry, he was talking in an even tone, like they weren't discussing something unbearably serious. "You can't know Ross, specifically him, like I do, because you haven't been his prey. You kept us from him, I know that, and you've done all of this, and I'm grateful. But you haven't seen the look in his eye when he knows he's going to tear your life to pieces. The way he smiled when you were in pain, because he enjoyed it." It hurt and it brought a terror in him like no other. "I loved him too once, you know. I wanted him to be my father. I desperately wanted him to be proud of me. It was so stupid, honestly, it was never going to happen. He hated me from the second he saw me, but he needed me."

It was the most he'd spoken about Ross, not in years, ever. Their particular relationship and the twists and turns within it, that he kept to himself, because it was raw. The sad confession about how he loved him once. It was all embarrassing, when he thought about it. Pathetic. "You can't control everything, you can't handle everything. No one can. You can try your hardest, and you have, and it still could be out of your hands. I don't know every detail of your life, of your heart, and you can't know mine, but we're still us. Don't act like I'm one of them, I would go to hell and back again for you, I wouldn't hesitate. But if I can't speak my mind to the only person I have, then I don't know what to do."

He'd known about the engagement- two scientists of his and Betty's caliber shacking up, tying the knot? Of course he'd known. Everyone had speculated about what it might do to their research, if there'd be a new super couple in the scientific community. Tony'd planned an appropriately tasteful wedding gift and donation to whatever research they were working on at the time the wedding rolled around, the usual shit. That Ross would have a nerdson tickled the fuck out of Tony, the man had been insufferable, even Betty had issues with him back then, everyone did. You don't get where he was without having a particular kind of drive and disregard for life. And tact. And on occasion sanity. But to hear that Bruce, sensitive, introverted, brilliant Bruce had cared for and wanted to be recognized by him?

In such a familiar way, a familiar flavor of betrayal that stuck to the back of his teeth and coated his throat with bitter bile, Tony couldn't help but sink back against the workbench and laugh. It was the same hysterical crackle of sound when Ultron happened, after the shock faded and all he had was a quiet certainty he'd broken everything he'd ever tried to built. That he was a virus and all he touched turned to ruin. Not a good look for him. But this? This was louder, longer, hitched in his chest like sobs until he muffled it behind his palm, blinking past frustrated tears that he refused to allow to fall.

It was worse when that kind of hate came from someone you loved.

And it was terrible that Tony couldn't help but feel a sick sort of envy that Ross was even that emotionally involved in the mess that was his loathing for Banner.

Obie? Felt nothing. Apathy of the worst sort. He wasn't even a monster to slay- he'd been a thing. A tool.

"Don't-" He scrubbed at his eyes. "Don't think I don't know what that feels like."

And it didn't matter that his chest was hale and whole, that his heart still beat and he could breathe, that ringing tone in his ears lingered on bad days, the cold ache of the reactor being pulled free jolted him awake- His hand dragged down from his face to his chest, pressing over his scarless chest. "I don't think it was in my file. Or. That I told anyone that wasn't involved. Obie didn't even hate me, Bruce, but he used me. Because I kept pumping out weapons he wanted and when we quit? He decided to take what I had left that he found valuable and walk."

"Tony," Bruce murmured, instantly concerned when Tony made that sound. He'd heard it before, at that point, but he also just generally knew it. Sometimes he did the same, when he was feeling especially broken, when one more bad thing happened on top of all the other bad things. After the gun, for example. And it made him feel instantly regretful about what he said, to throw Tony that way. He wanted to reach out and comfort him at first, but he wasn't certain if it was right, if he was the reason.

He knew who Obie was right away. Obadiah Stane. Almost as famous a name. He knew he was Howard's partner, that he was around after the Starks died, that he would be a support system for Tony after that. He didn't know the depth of what happened there, no, but it was similar enough to his situation that Tony shared in that specific type of pain. Bruce got down on his knees so he was not hovering and instead in front of Tony, who was having a reaction to those particular memories. Psychic or otherwise.

"Hey, it's okay." He was soft again, gentle, apologetic. "Neither of them are here, and we don't need to bring them with us." That was baggage, carried everywhere, but Bruce did know that his obsession with Ross was an unhealthy one. In this environment, at least. If he and Tony wanted to have this fight back in their world, if Ross was alive and it was necessary, they wouldn't. He smiled faintly, still not touching Tony, just staying close, respecting his space. "Even our trauma matches, how weird is that?" They were a matched pair. "You deserve a lot better than you ever got from him. You know that, right?"

Edited 2018-09-26 02:58 (UTC)

"I had to kill him. I didn't- He took the reactor out of my chest and I wouldn't have killed him if he gave me a choice but-" His head dropped, his body listing forward until his forehead's pressed against Bruce's shoulder again. Somewhere warm. Somewhere safe. Even while they were arguing- here? He would always be safe. "But he was going to kill Pepper."

Tony would, could, forgive far too much, a mile long list of wrongs against his person back then. But wrong someone he cared for? That wasn't something he could stand by and abide. Threaten them? Gloves were off. A trembling hand slid up to curl in Bruce's shirt, Tony trying, quietly, to push back the quiet horror. Greedy Business was one thing but-

Taking what he'd built to protect himself, to make things right, and perverting it? Pulling the reactor right out of his chest and walking away without a glimmer of loathing or so much as batting a lash? He'd meant nothing.

"Is it fucked up to think that at least Ross cared enough to hate you?" It was, he knew it was, but that was just how his brain worked. If he could reach in and rewire it he would.

"He didn't give you a choice, it was him or Pepper, you had to do it." Bruce wasn't actually aware of what happened, but he was certain that Tony wouldn't kill for no reason, and if it was Pepper or anyone, she was going to be the choice. As she should be. He breathed a little easier when Tony leaned on him again, giving him that reassurance and warmth again without question. Even if they argued, if they fought, Bruce had to believe they could get here again. He needed it. "You had to, it's not your fault."

Saying it and believing it were two different things. People could tell him until the end of time that the Hulk wasn't his fault, or his actions weren't his fault, and he wouldn't hear it. Some things just had to be personal acceptance or not. It wouldn't stop Bruce from trying to soothe his friend. He rested his head next to Tony's and put an arm around his middle, just existing in his space.

He huffed, not quite a laugh, but a sound of some amusement. "Well, I was sleeping with his daughter. That made it a little more personal." Otherwise, he doubted it would be hate. Well, maybe. "I think all of this is fucked up. We've gone through so many fucked up things." It really was never ending. He figured it would be bad up until the moment he died. "He loathed me from the minute we met, because he thought I was weak, pathetic." Bruce heard those words thrown at him so frequently that at this point it felt like it echoed in his own mind uninvited.

"I used to hope the Hulk would kill him," he confessed quietly. Guiltily. "It was awful, and I knew Betty would never forgive me, but I was so tired of running. I just wanted to come home." Bruce tried so hard to keep the Hulk from killing, but in the darkest part of him, he wanted Ross gone.

"After my parents-" Died. Were murdered. Complicated emotions, fuck. "He was all I had."

He helped shape Tony, guided him into fulfilling his father's legacy- while dangling booze and blow and women and men in front of him, keeping him distracted like a fucking child so he could double deal. Every betrayal, every knife that found his back? Only ever drove that first one in deeper. The only person that cut so damn deep it nearly met that one? Was Rogers. But he put all that away- this was...it was and wasn't about him. It was about them. Figuring out how to live with each other all over again in a place with none of the safety nets they took for granted back in New York.

Slumping further into Bruce, his other arm came around to hold on tight. It stung, that Bruce thought he wanted to work with Ross. That he'd let anything happen to the rest of the team- and it fucked Bruce up more than a little that Tony was put in a position where there were no other options. The long and short of it was: Shit sucked. What else was new? "Bruce, buddy- you are not the only person that kind of hoped Ross would end up dead."

His hand slid up to smooth through Bruce's hair, close cropped and he kind of missed the mess of curls, a little. A lot. "I get it. I do. It's alright, Bruce."

"I've never wanted anyone to die." Bruce worked so hard to keep the Hulk from hurting more people, and to know how much of that killer instinct was truly inside of him, it was alarming. "I know our enemies do, I know sending the Hulk at them could make it happen, and that's just ... how it is." He lived with it because it was to protect people, and he hoped that his teammates could rein in the Hulk enough to do the right kind of damage. "But me? Wanting him dead? That's not who I want to be." Bruce tried so often to push his dark side away, and that of course fed into the monster of his making. There was no right answer.

He couldn't remember how his hair got cut, but he knew where they were, hair was cut off, since that happened to Thor too. He must have been very out of it when it happened, and then the Hulk took over for good. His hair hadn't been that short in many years, it still felt odd. There were only two people in Bruce's life that held him this way, who made him feel this safe, and he was just grateful that Betty hadn't been the only one in his life who could manage it. Otherwise he'd be alone and harrowed until his unknown amount of long years ended.

"What are we going to do now?" Because everything back at home, in the current time, it didn't matter. The Accords, Ross, Thanos, that was somewhere else they couldn't actually deal with yet. Normally that would be a good thing, but it was out of one fire and into another fire, rather than a frying pan existing in the middle. He leaned back on his knees so he could look at Tony's face, but just dropped his hands to Tony's knees, keeping contact. "Where are we?"

"...It's not a good feeling. And it's not something you can rationalize." Tony had dipped into it a few times- that sort of bone deep bitterness, that frustrated wrath. It'd been knee jerk and instinctual when he saw Happy in the hospital, when the Ten Rings kept haunting him, his work, his attempts to do better. Even in Siberia it was less about killing Barnes and more about hurting him. Pain for pain when it wasn't relevant any longer who bled the longest or was cut the deepest. It's an uncomfortable beast.

One he swallowed back as best he could. The human capacity for violence was one Tony knew well, it made for good business. That he could detach himself from that sentiment so neatly for so long was disturbing enough. He tried to remember why he shouldn't step back emotionally that far ever again. Bruce clinging to him? Reason enough.

"Well. I have a list on the wall to start." Keeping busy to keep sane. "Trying to build some creature comforts and figure out how to build a defensive wall since there are things in the woods that eat people. Right now we're in my as of yet unnamed business, I could use your help with that, in the South Village. There's a nearly identical one up north. The actual planet is...fuck if I know?"

"I was never really meant for this life," Bruce said softly, a sad smile twisting at his lips. And that was one of the exact reasons why Ross thought he was soft. He wanted a quiet philanthropic life where he learned extraordinary things and died peacefully after being married to the love of his life since college. "But here I am." He could dwell on his dreams and his lost future all he wanted, but it really didn't matter. This was the path his own choices led him down. There was no one else to blame. So instead of blame, he was going to have to swallow it down and keep going on.

Tony needed him. Maybe to to fight anymore, but he told Thor that Banner was useful too. He'd have to prove it. He really would prefer to curl up on Tony for the foreseeable future and maybe sleep for a week, which was a nice thought but not one they had time for. "With the both of us, that list can go faster." Bruce got to his feet and could feel it in his bones now, the reality of not having any special blood in his veins to heal him or keep him healthy. This was going to be one hell of an adjustment. He leaned forward one more time, cupping Tony's face with his hands and pressing their foreheads together. Alive, alive, alive.

"Of course there are things that eat people out there. We're going to need some volunteers in the future if it comes to building an entire wall. You and I aren't exactly getting young---wait a second." One of the smartest people in their universe, and it took him this long to put it together. In his defense, they'd been wallowing over serious things. He pulled back and took a very thorough once over of his friend. "You are actually younger, what happened?"

"No one is." Not him, not any scientist he's ever known was meant for the conflict driven and constant paranoia that made up Bruce's existence No one he could think of would thrive like that- and yet somehow Bruce found a way. If it were possible to undue any of it, to give him back the peace of mind he'd lost? Tony would do it in a heartbeat. But some things were beyond fixing.

Here and now- there was the work that needed doing, Bruce's safety he could be certain of so long as he stayed in the village. And the quest space between them as Bruce leaned in to rest their foreheads together. It as a special kind of intimacy he didn't often share- but Bruce earned it. He had Tony's trust, his affection. His relief. They survived, somehow, and they would keep surviving. As long as he had any say in it.

"Mm? Oh. There- in the bunker? There was a machine, something you stick your wrist device to and select a power and..." He sits back, spreading his hands, smiling up at Bruce. "So I grabbed rapid regenerative healing which patched up my side and fixed the mess that is my chest cavity. Got all my lungs back. No idea how long it'll last, but...Felt like it was worth it."

The only reason Bruce was still alive and made it through his ordeal was that he couldn't die before. Now he could, and he was focused on continuing to live. He was already considering the upside to living in a place like this for longer than a short time. It sounded bad, yes, but he was also free of the Hulk and all the reasons he could never be free on their earth. It was too early to make any decisions on that, and first he had to come up with a way for people to choose whether to stay or go.

"Trust you to say sure why not I'll let these strangers give me super powers." Bruce would have done the same thing if it wasn't for his experience with what happened the last time he thought 'hey wonder what this will do.' He never thought about having other powers. Being a super soldier would be interesting. It was the plan of his project in the first place. No, stop it, Banner. "You look good, that's for sure, I mean, not to say you don't always, but...."

It wouldn't be Bruce if he wasn't thinking about the buts. "What happens if it goes away? Will the changes stay, or will you bleed out on the floor? Because that might be something we should plan for. Make sure someone's within ear shot of you until it looks like it'll stick."

"I had a through and through injury that was healing slowly, keeping me from working." Because he did keep his work mostly light, theoretical or drafting or detail work while he was healing as to not tear his side open but- long list of shit that needs doing, not a lot of ability to see it done. Having strikers helped but- at least like this? He could stretch his working hours a little.

A lot.

"Honestly? I don't know. I'm waiting it out with a pack of gauze and my emergency beacon on hand just in case but I was healing alright. This goes away it's back to...bad joints and not being able to breathe easy." Best he could think, anyway. "I doubt it'll stick. I'm not that lucky."

"Well since I'm staying with you at least you have a sort of doctor nearby if something happens." Bruce was very calm under pressure and it wouldn't be the first time he looked after his friends from injuries. He liked doing that instead of focusing on whatever the Hulk did during a fight. Healing was better. "You have a doctor on call. You can literally just yell my name." He smiled wryly. That's an extra good thing about staying with Tony, outside of the fact he was needy and attached.

"We're old now, pal. We're just ahead of the joints because of all the action." Bruce himself was in worse shape than Tony in general, at least in terms of exercising and fighting. But he'd never really needed to focus on it before. He felt a decade older than his friend and usually a few decades older than everyone else. "I don't have someone healing me now though. So I'd better start stretching, huh?" The Hulk meant that Bruce was the safest and healthiest among them, most of the time. His own blood was radioactive, but that kept anything else from poisoning or hurting him. It wasn't just the physical manifestation of the monster that existed, it was in him down to the cells.

Now it was gone.

"You think almost fifty is too late to learn how to punch without a supersuit?" It was said as a joke, but also not.

"Of I could yell for you." He huffed quietly, pushing himself upright. Standing without an ache in his spine, in his chest? Fucking novel, and he meant to hold onto the feeling and get as much out of it as possible or as long as he could. Much like helping Bruce adapt to the village- he had no way of knowing it would go well but- this would help him pick up something of a semi-regular schedule. "Join me for pre-dawn yoga."

Woke him up better than coffee-

Well no, that was a lie, but it was a lie he held onto for the sake of his sanity. "...You want to learn how to punch? I walk you through it. Don't think we have any sandbags around here but I could maybe make one? It'd be worth setting up."

"You can sit still long enough for yoga?" Bruce can't help teasing him. It's easy with Tony, going from serious discussions to nothing important in a short amount of time. It was all they did during their time in the lab, when things were good and he remembered how to talk to humans again. His smile was full of warmth and he wandered a bit to get a better look at this forge and the work Tony was doing. All keeping Tony directly in his sightline of course, he wasn't really ready to lose sight of him. Sleeping was going to be a struggle.

"I probably should, shouldn't I? I'm no good to anyone in a fight the way I am now, if we need to fight." This forge felt like Tony. Old school, lacking in his characteristic shininess, but it was what they had in front of him. They were both mad scientists. They needed work or they'd go crazier. "I'm probably never going to be as tough as the rest of you, but I'd like to be a little more useful than I was with the wizards." Which was not at all. He was actually a hindrance to them, he was no better than a bystander.

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Hello Darkness My Old Friend

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