Permanent Sequel, set during and after IM3
He’d been halfway around the world, setting up a clinic, when the news came that Tony Stark was dead. One of the children had run in, shouting the news, and Bruce had swallowed a handful of Valium and locked himself in the basement.
He’d tried calling Pepper but he couldn’t get through. He tried calling Happy and his voicemail was full. He tried calling JARVIS and the line just rang and rang because he’d never needed voicemail. The only direct number he had for SHIELD was Agent Coulson’s, and it hadn’t been reassigned. He hung up when the AUDIX system asked if he wanted to leave a message for “Philip Coulson.” Leaving a message for a dead man wouldn’t help anything. When he called the main switchboard, the receptionist had never heard of Bruce Banner and wouldn’t put him through to Fury.
He didn’t know what to do. He could feel the Hulk trying to get out, trying to go look for whatever had hurt Tony. By day 3, he was desperate enough to shot up an ampule of the formula Doctor Sterns developed. It worked, for about six hours, then the Hulk was rattling the bars again.
Eventually, some very brave doctor knocked on the door to tell him Tony Stark was alive and that he was on the telephone.
“You asshole.” He’d downed enough pills to kill a half dozen men in the past few days. “Where have you been?”
“Fighting. Saving the President. Bruce, I need you to come home.”
He was supposed to be in India for six weeks, setting up a clinic. He’d gotten official leave from Stark Industries and extracted a promise from Tony not to call him unless it was an emergency. If whatever had gone down before hadn’t been an emergency, Bruce wasn’t sure what was. “Just tell me where to meet the plane.”