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'Mister Odinson.'
Thor jumped as JARVIS' cool tones echoed through the room. He put down the needle and thread he'd been repairing his cloak with. 'JARVIS,' he said hesitantly. Whilst he'd stayed in Stark Tower for long enough to get used to Tony's friendly AI, he wasn't quite sure how much he trusted it. 'What is it?'
'Doctor Banner requires your assistance in the lab.'
Thor blinked. 'Banner is here? I thought he went to that meeting with the others - three days ago.' Something about Midgardian government - Tony had not-so-subtly told him to stay behind. The tower was deserted; he hadn't caught a single glimpse of the nervous scientist. He stood up. 'Why have I not seen him?'
'He requested that no one disturb him, and locked the door to all visitors. However, I am growing concerned for his wellbeing. To continue obeying his orders may threaten his safety.'
Thor started walking. It was odd to see the tower so devoid of life. Every footstep echoed off the high walls. 'What has befallen him?'
'I'm afraid I cannot divulge that information. Dr Banner has insisted his research be kept a secret. But he is in a state of great distress.'
Thor chuckled. 'Fear not. If the beast should appear I shall best him.' He was itching for another round, in fact. Few opponents could match him in strength - if not in skill.
JARVIS didn't reply.
He got into the elevator and took it up five floors. Out of all the Avengers, he felt he knew Banner the least. A quiet and intelligent man of science, who could transform into a mighty green warrior. There was an intensity to him, something burning behind his dark eyes that hinted at hidden depths. But Tony had scooped him up to babble about Midgardian science and Thor had barely spoken to him after that.
The elevator opened to darkness. Thor crept down the corridor, lights clicking on as he passed. Anticipation built within him. Did Banner know he was here? Was he hiding from him? It had been two weeks since the Avengers' first battle together. So why was he distressed?
The lab door slid open automatically as he approached, and when he stepped inside his breath caught in his throat. He was too late.
It looked as if the lab had been ransacked. Tables lay overturned, and broken bottles spilled their coloured bile over the floor. His boots crunched on broken glass as he walked through the chaos, alert for intruders. Mjolnir was downstairs but that could soon be rectified.
A scuffling sound at the back of the room. 'Banner?' he called. 'Do not hide from me! JARVIS told me you required aid?'
I don't need help.' Bruce's voice was his own, albeit a little more raspy than usual. 'Just go.'
Thor pulled back an overturned desk and found him sitting on the floor in a mound of papers. 'Banner... what has happened?'
This was not the man he had been introduced to at the SHIELD meeting. Bruce's hair was wild, as if he'd repeatedly run his hands through it, and the dark beginnings of a beard bristled on his jaw. His yellow shirt was untucked and he smelled of old sweat and coffee. 'I said leave,' he spat, unless you want the other guy to smash your face in. God knows he wants to.'
The venom in his voice actually pushed Thor back half a step. 'You cannot harm me, Banner. Do you forget who you are speaking to?'
Bruce met his gaze steadily. Clearly not intimidated to be talking to an actual god. Interesting. 'What do you want, Thor?' There was a crazed look in his eyes. His fists were clenched in his lap.
'You are unwell,' he surmised. 'Do you require help?
'Nothing you can do. You've done your good deed for the day. Now leave me to my work.'
Thor scoffed. 'This is your work?' He gestured at the room. 'Did Hulk do this?'
Bruce leapt to his feet, dark eyes flashing. 'No, he didn't. I did. That hard to believe? That I can be angry too?'
Thor held his ground, staring him down. 'And why are you angry?'
He chuckled, the smile not reaching his eyes. He walked unsteadily to the back of the room, where a whiteboard was half-hidden behind the debris. 'Why do you care?'
Thor was growing annoyed. Why did Midgardians have to dance around the subject, never giving a straight answer? 'I care because you are one of the team, one of the Avengers - '
Bruce held up a finger. 'No. No. He is. Let's not pretend you guys ever wanted me around.'
'You are being silly. You are the same person.'
Bruce's lips pressed together and he ducked his head as if swallowing something foul. The motion was familiar: he'd done the same thing when Tony had first mentioned the Hulk.
Bruce picked up a whiteboard marker, then whirled and flung it at the wall. It exploded, showering them in flecks of ink. 'Figures,' he said bitterly, looking down at his shirt, now marred with green.
Thor stood back and watched him search through the rubble for another pen and throw that too. Black bled through the green. 'I do not understand.' Banner always kept his emotions under careful control. To see him so unrestrained... it was a different kind of anger to Hulk's. 'I also enjoy breaking things to let off steam - perhaps not Stark's lab, though?'
The third throw seemed to tire Bruce out and he stumbled away, wiping his ink-smeared hands on his knees. He continued as if Thor wasn't there, swiping up pieces of scribbled paper and tearing them to tiny pieces. Yet the whole time Thor didn't see a hint of green.
'You don't understand,' Bruce said, not looking at him. 'None of you do. What it's like living with this. Knowing I can kill anyone around me - this weight in my mind.' He sagged against the one remaining table, breathing hard. 'I didn't want to come here because I knew what it would mean. I knew I'd have to face it.' He looked so tired. The harsh lab lighting brought out the lines in his face and the dark smudges under his eyes.
Thor stood facing him. 'Tell me your woes, friend,' he said softly.
He shook his head, swallowing hard. 'I had a bad childhood,' he said, and his voice suddenly sounded very small. 'Science was my escape. I picked up the pieces, I was working on a project to cure gamma sickness - or so I was told. I was doing good. Then he showed up and I lost everything all over again.' He folded his arms tightly around himself in a more reassuringly Bruce-like fashion.
Thor took a step towards him. Bruce gave no indication he noticed. 'Every action can be undone. It's basic science. You can trust science.' He was rocking gently back and forth on his heels. 'Atoms and chemicals, that's all it boils down to. Just needed time and equipment. That's what I told myself. It's how I got by.'
Then Bruce finally looked up at him and his eyes were two spots of darkness in his pallid face. 'I can't cure this,' he whispered.
Thor blinked back at him, not knowing what to say. He didn't know Bruce's story, but he knew the look of a man who had lost all hope. 'I am sorry.'
He laughed dryly and looked away. 'You're not sorry. You like that monster. You think he's your friend.'
'Perhaps he is not the burden that you think he is,' he said carefully.
A muscle jumped in Bruce's jaw. 'Sure. He's only made me homeless, cost me my job, my friends, all semblance of a normal life - ' He snatched up a glass beaker from the table behind him.
'Bruce.' Thor grabbed his elbow. 'Calm down. Else he will emerge.'
'Good.' A tear ran down his cheek. He blinked, as if surprised. 'I don't want to feel anything anymore.' Teeth gritted, he raised the beaker over his head.
His eyes glazed over.
Thor dashed forward and caught him as he fell. The beaker shattered on the floor.
'Banner?' Bruce was limp in his arms, eyes closed but breathing evenly. He hooked an arm under his knees and lifted him up, carrying him out of the carnage and into the spotless corridor outside. 'JARVIS, what ails him?'
'It is difficult to be sure without a medical examination, but I believe it to be a combination of exhaustion and intense stress. Doctor Banner has not slept for forty-one hours. He has not eaten in thirty-two.'
Thor was no Midgardian expert but he knew humans needed food every three hours. His mind raced - Jane had seldom been ill, save for what she liked to call "shark week" - and he had little clue how to deal with this. Bruce was abnormal, even by Midgardian standards.
But Thor knew what exhaustion was. He'd seen many great warriors tire themselves out, refuse to stop fighting until it killed them. Healers too selfless to take a break and care for themselves.
'JARVIS, direct me to Banner's room.'
'Of course. It is the first door on your left on the floor below.'
Thor got into the elevator. The scientist felt very small in his arms, the opposite of the Hulk. He stirred, eyelids flickering.
'Banner?'
His brown eyes were bloodshot, drifting absently over Thor's face. His brow wrinkled in puzzlement. 'I fell asleep...'
'You fainted. In your lab. Do you remember?'
He looked blank for a long moment, then his expression cleared. 'Oh,' he said simply. Then he looked down. 'Why are you carrying me?'
'Because you are too weak to walk unaided.' Thor noted the flash of hurt in Bruce's eyes before he closed them again, and regretted his choice of words.
The door to Bruce's room opened as he approached and his heart sank further. The apartment was also a mess. Coffee cups crowded every available surface, propping open annotated textbooks and leaving rings on pages of complex formulae. The kitchen area was stacked with old takeaway boxes, and something was rotting in the sink.
'Banner,' he said softly, 'how long has this been going on?'
'I had to find a cure.' Bruce's voice was weak and strained. 'I thought I'd found the solution... kept hitting setbacks...'
The bedroom was little better. The sheets were rumpled on the floor, and on the bedside table were several half-empty bottles. How had no one picked up on this? Thor had assumed Bruce to be as infallible as the Hulk. This was the home of a broken man.
Bruce said nothing as he set him down on the bed. He curled up, arms wrapping around himself. And remained there.
Thor didn't know what to do. Loki had always been the better diplomat; Thor was more suited to fighting his problems. He knew the Hulk better than Bruce, and that was saying something since all they'd done was fight each other.
But staring at him would do little good, so Thor returned to the kitchen and rinsed out one of the old coffee mugs, filling it with water. 'Drink this,' he ordered as he returned.
Bruce propped himself up on his elbows and for a moment seemed about to refuse, then reluctantly accepted it and took a sip. All the anger seemed to have left him, leaving him a tired husk.
It reminded him of Loki, he realised sadly. Once his brother had learned of his true heritage he'd become nasty, and brutal, and angry. But whilst Loki had taken out his frustrations on the world, Bruce had focused his anger inwards. Which in some ways was just as destructive. Thor didn't want to lose a friend he'd only just met.
Whilst Bruce slept, Thor went to the kitchen area and washed all the coffee cups and congealed plates. The rotting thing in the sink turned out to be week-old pizza. All the takeout boxes went into the trash, squashed down into submission.
Next, the living room. The papers looked important, so he gathered them up into a neat pile and left them on the desk, and did the same with the textbooks. Then he opened the windows to try and banish the bad smells. The apartment was at least livable now, albeit a little grimy.
'Mister Stark is calling.' On the wall, a holoscreen appeared. Tony's face appeared inside his suit cam.
'Stark.' Thor nodded at him. 'How goes the meeting?'
'Oh, it was great. Super boring until some bad guys showed up.' The view juddered as he focused on something out of frame. There was the sound of shots firing, followed by the rumble of his suit's flight engines. 'Tell Banner to suit up. There's some cleaning up to do.'
'Banner is not coming, and neither am I.'
'What are you talking about? We need our heavy hitters down here!'
'He is unwell, and not fit to fight,' he said firmly.
Distant shouts in the background. 'Ah shit, more company! Thor, I need you boys down here - '
'My place is here, Stark.' He folded his arms. 'JARVIS, end the call.'
The screen froze on Tony's face mid-word, then faded away. They'd managed without him before now, they would do so again.
He returned to the room to find Bruce sitting on the edge of the bed, swaying dangerously. 'Banner, you should be resting.'
'I'm fine, I just got dizzy for a second.' He gritted his teeth, clutching the edge of the mattress. 'Not like I can die from anything anyway.'
'But you can still get sick.' He hovered by the bed. Thor could overpower Bruce easily, but didn't want to upset his delicate state any further.
'I'm already sick. There's a monster living inside my body.' He stood up and leaned heavily against the wall, and started to shake violently. 'I just need to get back the lab,' he gasped. 'I'll be fine...'
This time Thor was ready to catch him as he fell. Bruce grunted at the impact, clutching his head as he was lowered back onto the bed. 'Your work can wait. You can't.'
Bruce just lay there, hands sliding down to cover his face.
'When did you plan on stopping?' he raised his voice. 'What is there to gain from torturing yourself like this? For something that isn't your fault?'
A shaky exhale hissed through Bruce's fingers. Then he sobbed.
Thor took a step forward. 'Bruce... all is not lost. Do not weep.'
His shoulders shook with near-silent crying, hands still clamped over his face.
Back on Asgard, Thor had once helped to rescue a child who had been neglected by her parents. It was one of the few times he'd seen his mother angry. The girl had looked so thin and pale, always trembling in the presence of others and refusing to speak to anyone. When she'd cried, she was always silent. Hiding her tears had become a survival instinct.
Thor lay down beside Bruce and wrapped his arms around him.
Bruce tensed and blinked up at him in shock, dark eyes glassy, then hid his face in Thor's chest. He was far too warm; heat radiated through his thin shirt.
'It's alright.' Thor stroked his curly hair. 'You should not be going through this alone. We're a team, remember? You can talk to us.'
He continued murmuring words of comfort as Bruce sobbed quietly into his chest, promising that he wasn't going anywhere. This wasn't the fallout from a single battle. This was a dam bursting, this was the strain of months, perhaps years of built-up strife. Why else would Bruce come apart in the presence of a near-stranger?
Gradually, the sobs quietened down and Bruce's breathing evened out, his grip slackening until he began to snore softly. Still Thor held him close, providing what comfort he could. Sleep was the best healer.
He must have dozed off himself, since the next thing he heard was a door opening.
'Banner? - oh! Oh.' Steve was frozen in the doorway, a guilty look on his face.
Thor shushed him, glancing down at the hot, sleeping bundle in his arms. Bruce stirred, breathing puffs of air across his neck. Steve slunk away, red-faced. Sighing inwardly, Thor quietly untangled himself. Their legs had intertwined, and Bruce's arm was thrown over his waist. Easy to see why the misunderstanding had occurred.
Bruce blinked up at him as Thor stood up, then turned over to face the wall. Thor grabbed the duvet off the floor, shook out the crumbs and draped it over him before striding from the room.
Out in the corridor, Steve was fumbling with an explanation to Natasha and Clint.
'So you guys were boning on the job, huh?' Clint raised his eyebrows at Thor. 'We could have used the help, you know. There's a time and a place.'
'We were not "boning",' Thor growled, 'We were sleeping together.'
Natasha's eyebrows joined Clint's.
'Not - not like that.' He quietly pulled the door closed. 'He is unwell. His spirit is broken, he has lost all will to fight.'
Steve frowned. 'You mean like trauma? Shellshock?'
'No more of a... mental breakdown.' The phrase came to him suddenly. Jane had used it before, in exaggeration. Now Thor knew what one looked like.
All humour died on Clint's face. 'We were only gone three days. What happened?'
'He sought out a cure for his condition. He was distraught to learn that there was none. To know that he is forever trapped with the Hulk... he is finding it hard to accept.'
He was met with three worried pairs of eyes. Natasha swore in Russian. 'He wouldn't tell me what he was working on. Guess that's why.'
'Where is Stark?'
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Tony came marching up the corridor. He wore a grim expression, one that Thor hadn't seen him wear before. For once, there was no witty comments from him, and he motioned for them to stand aside so he could reach the door.
Thor remembered the state of the lab. 'Stark, you must leave him be. He is not well - '
'Out of the way,' he said quietly.
Steve coughed. 'It's not a good time right now, Tony...'
'I'm not asking!' he snarled, and shouldered past Thor with surprising strength. The others hung back guiltily, but Thor marched straight in with him. He might not know Bruce that well, but right now he was under his protection.
Tony walked around the side of the bed and crouched down in front of Bruce's prone form. 'Look at me. Hey, you awake? You listening? I want some answers.'
Heat rose within him. 'Stark,' he said. Quietly. Dangerously.
Tony held up a hand to silence him. 'What the hell did you do to the lab, Bruce? JARVIS told me that you did that, not the big guy. At least you didn't bottle it all up, for once.'
Bruce winced. 'I'm sorry... shit, I'm so sorry.' He seemed to shrink under the blanket. 'I can repl- no, I can't replace it.'
'I'm a billionaire. You think that's what I'm concerned about right now?' He leaned down until he was eye-level. 'I know about your little project. You can't keep everything hidden from me, Brucie.'
Thor relaxed.
'You know, I'm not sure I'm convinced by your "always angry" method. Pot's gotta boil over eventually if you only ever let the big guy blow off steam. You're allowed to get mad and break stuff too. Just maybe not the furniture next time?'
Bruce looked up at him. 'Are you gonna fire me?'
Tony gawped at him, then reached down to ruffle his hair. 'You think I'm gonna fire the one guy on this team who can keep up with my brilliant schemes? Science buddies aren't easy to come by, and I'm kinda attached to this one.'
A sad little laugh escaped him. 'Pretty sure he's damaged goods.'
'He does have a terrible taste in music,' he agreed begrudgingly. 'But hey, no one's perfect.'
The tension in the room finally dissipated. Thor glanced back to see Clint dramatically wiping his forehead in relief.
Tony straightened up, as if sensing his job was done. 'Come see me when you're back on your feet. I know some people you can talk to. You're like me, you've got shit to work through.'
Bruce half-turned over to watch him go. 'Like a therapist? You have a therapist?'
'I blow people up for a living. I have a phonebook of therapists.' He breezed out of the room, leaving them all to stare at each other in bemusement. Bruce resumed his position facing the wall and almost immediately fell asleep.
'Alright,' said Steve quietly, 'we need to keep an eye on him.'
'Well, he wasn't brainwashed by an ancient Norse god,' Clint grumped. 'I've still got a headache from when Loki...' Everyone glared at him. He coughed. 'Yeah, keep an eye on him. Got it.'
'Tell us when he's up, JARVIS,' said Nat.
'Of course. I will inform you of any changes.'
Eighteen hours later, Bruce woke up. He seemed a little overwhelmed to find himself on the receiving end of five superheroes determined to make him feel better. He was still dizzy and unable to stand, but managed to keep down the plain toast Steve brought him. Tony talked his ear off about ion emitters and Strahsberg generators (somehow this seemed to cheer Bruce up). Natasha and Clint busied themselves in cleaning out the apartment, scrubbing down the surfaces and hiding the upsetting research notes in an unobtrusive folder under the sink.
Over the next couple of days, Bruce alternated between sleep, half-hearted conversation and endless re-runs of Disney movies (at Tony's insistence that they were "ironically entertaining"). And although he remained tired and withdrawn, some of the spark started to return to him.
Thor was heartened to see their team take on a challenge not of body but of soul. Even here, they worked well together. He sat with Bruce often, puzzling over what passed for Midgardian entertainment. Bruce seemed to take some pleasure in explaining the jokes. Thor pretended not to understand so he could listen to the scientist explain it again.
'So each creature living in her brain represents an emotion?' Thor surmised.
Bruce nodded. 'It's metaphorical.' They watched as the little red character blew fire from his head. 'My dad had anger issues,' he said casually. 'He was violent, controlling. Mom tried to get me away from him. Back in the lab... that's not exactly the actions of a sane person.'
'You were distraught.' Thor shrugged. 'I have seen far worse.'
Bruce was wrapped in a blanket, pale but alert. A mug of coffee lay forgotten beside him. 'She was always afraid I'd turn out like him,' he said quietly.
Thor shook his head. 'My father - whom I love dearly - is arrogant, pompous and foolish. But I am not the same as him.' He saw Bruce hesitate. 'Alright, that was a bad example. But I am not doomed to follow him - except for being Prince of Asgard but - ' He fumbled desperately. 'Anger... anger is not a weapon. It's a tool. There are ways you can put it to good use. It can make you more determined in battle, give you the energy you need to complete a task. It does not define you.' Hulk was not a monster. He was like Mjolnir, a tool that could be used or misused. Bruce would have to discover that for himself.
Bruce smiled and hesitantly patted him on the shoulder. 'That's a nice thought.' His dark eyes searched his face, as if seeking confirmation that the touch was allowed. 'I uh, didn't thank you for before. I think I needed someone to pull me out of there. So, thanks.'
'You're not alone, Bruce,' he said softly. 'Even the best warriors fight as a team.' There were still flecks of ink on his forehead. Thor reached out without thinking to rub at a green smear on Bruce's cheekbone. His eyes widened in surprise, then he blushed. The colour suited him.
Then Bruce ducked out of his reach, and he worried he'd upset him. 'Where are you going?' he asked as he stood up.
'I'm gonna take a shower.' He walked slowly, using the wall for support. 'Green's never been my colour.'
Thor stood up. 'Do you need any help?'
He chuckled. I'd like to keep the dignity I have left. I'm okay. Uh, thanks. Just gotta take it slow.'
All the same, Thor remained in the bedroom and listened for any sign that Bruce was in trouble. He wanted to protect this little scientist, whose hidden depths Thor had finally glimpsed. There was a fire burning in there, and Bruce was a man of embers. But every fire could burn too low, or grow too wild.
Bruce emerged half an hour later, looking much more himself in an oversized grey sweater. He'd shaved too, and his pale complexion was now rosy from the hot water. He smiled tentatively, and Thor beamed back, happy to see his teammate looking healthier. That was the only reason, of course. Though there was something entrancing about seeing the uptight scientist sporting dripping wet hair and bare feet.
A moment passed between them as they both searched for something to say.
Bruce opened his mouth. 'I-'
'Brucie.' Tony breezed in. 'Clint's attempting to make omelettes. You have to come and see, it's hilarious.'
'Oh god.' Bruce looked alarmed. 'He hasn't set the eggs on fire again?'
'No, but I set the stove to only turn on and off when he curses. I'm betting it's at least six minutes until he catches on.' And he disappeared again. Thor smiled. It was Tony's clever way of saying come and get some damn breakfast.
Bruce shrugged, his large sweater almost hanging off one shoulder. 'You coming?'
'Of course. Only if you are, though. We're Avengers now. I'm afraid we have to stick together.'
Bruce smiled. It was a tired smile, but it made something light up behind his eyes. A little spark in a fire that was not yet doused.
And Thor knew he was going to be alright.