The Razor's Edge
Tony
The car gave off a pleased hum as I accelerated past the speed limit, daring the long stretches of open road to throw me a curve. I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel restlessly. At the back of my mind, a voice was nagging at me relentlessly, but I ignored it. Rhodes was out, Pepper was out—I could get one drink and none of them would be the wiser. I couldn’t take it anymore, wandering around an empty compound filled with the echoes of shattered friendships. Just a little something to take the edge off.
I coasted into an out-of-the-way town. As I pulled into a parking spot, FRIDAY alerted me of an incoming call.
“Patch him through, Fri.”
“Hi Tony, it’s Bruce.”
“Everything okay there?”
“Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Good.”
“It’s just… I had an idea, for the suit problem. Sorry, are you busy? This isn’t super important, it’s just that when I asked FRIDAY where you were she called you and I wasn’t really intending to interrupt—”
“Relax,” I interjected. “I’m not—nothing important’s happening.”
“Are you driving?”
“Handsfree tech, Bruce. I’m not looking to be another Stephen Strange. But I’m parking now if that eases your mind.”
“Okay.” The line was quiet for a moment. “I’ll send you the equations in a bit. Making a few tweaks as we speak.”
“I’ll be back in about an hour, if you wanted to get in some lab time this afternoon.” Even as I said it, I was kicking myself, realizing I had just taken my alcohol run off the table. I almost thought he had hung up, from the length of silence on the other end. “Bruce?”
“Sorry. Um, no, I’m not really up to lab time. I’m sorry, Tony.” He sounded conflicted.
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just tired.”
“Have you eaten?”
“You’re as bad as Vision,” Bruce grumbled.
“Has he, FRIDAY?” I asked, pointedly ignoring the complaint.
“Not since yesterday,” FRIDAY informed me.
A quiet “oops” sounded from the other side of the phone.
“Bruce—” I began, but my lecture was cut off by another apology.
“I got wrapped up in thinking. I’m sorry, I promise it wasn’t on purpose. You know how it is when a project gets in your head.”
“That’s it, I’m sending Vision instructions to feed you lunch, and I’m ordering us pizza for tonight. Family dinner at 6 o’clock sharp.” As I spoke, I called up the work he had sent me on my StarkPad.
“Thanks, Tony. And I’m sorry.”
“My pleasure. And seriously, stop apologizing. This is brilliant.”
“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll see you later, then.” FRIDAY ended the call.
With a sigh, I closed the file and restarted the car, pulling away from the liquor store. Maybe I didn’t need that drink as much as I thought when I left. As I headed for the main road, a music shop caught my eye. If Bruce was going to keep himself holed away in his room playing piano, he could at least use some new material.
Bruce
“What kind of tea would you like with your soup, Dr. Banner?” Vision asked, startling me with his sudden reappearance.
“You really don’t need to…” I began, but the android just looked at me. “Something without caffeine, please. Thank you, Vision.”
He vanished through the wall again and I shook my head. Tony was right, it did taking some getting used to.
Within a few moments Vision had returned, setting a tray on my desk. To my surprise, he pulled up a chair and sat with me.
“Thanks,” I said again, taking a sip of the hot liquid. My stomach rumbled, suddenly aware of its emptiness. “It’s been hard to get used to eating regularly again,” I admitted.
“From what I could tell, if it were not for your unique physiology, you would have starved several times over before Peter brought you back to us,” Vision supplied. “Your captors certainly did not feed you adequately if at all. All things considered, it is hardly surprising you find it difficult to interpret your body’s needs in the aftermath.”
Uncomfortably, I shifted my robe tighter around my body, feeling as though Vision could see right through me to the freshly scabbed marks on my arms and thighs. I changed the subject quickly. “Do you ever taste food just to see what it’s like?”
Vision smiled. “I have, on occasion. It is… a strange sensation, to be sure. But it seems wasteful to taste and dispose of that which could be feeding one of my companions, when I do not find any need of it.”
“The soup’s great, by the way.” Without really thinking about it, I had consumed over half the bowl already.
“I simply microwaved it,” Vision replied. “Although I am very knowledgeable of cooking techniques, my flavor choices can be less than desirable to the human palate. I thought it best to bring you something that would not induce discomfort.”
I let out a slight chuckle. “Not every human has the same flavor preferences, Vision. Don’t let it dissuade you too much.”
“What flavors are your preference, Dr. Banner?”
“Please, call me Bruce.” I took a sip of the tea and tasted honey. Memories washed over me, stirred up by the question and the warm sweetness of the beverage.
Natasha pinned me to the ground once again. Both of us were panting heavily as we lay there, but this time she made to no move to get back up. My senses were acutely aware of her presence. Her warm eyes meeting mine with auburn hair pulled carefully away from her face, that slight smile that graced her lips, the smell of sweat and something sweet and warm like summer…
“You smell like honey.”
She smiled. “Medovik.”
“I didn’t know you baked.”
As if realizing she was still holding me there, Nat rolled off of me and proffered a hand. “I don’t, usually. The memories can be… a bit much.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
She tossed me a towel. “If you ever wanted workout tanks, I’m sure anybody on the team would be happy to share. Heck, mention it to Tony and you'll have a whole closet.”
I fidgeted with the edge of my frayed grey sweatshirt, and shrugged.
“Not trying to push you if you’re uncomfortable,” Nat added perceptively. “You just seem overly warm whenever we workout.”
“Baring my arms and back has never been a good thing,” I joked, trying to be light about it. “Plus, everyone sees more of me than we’d like every time the other guy takes a turn at the wheel.”
Nat gave a genuine laugh. “As long as you don’t feel that we’re forcing you to compensate for the other guy’s exhibitionism by hiding you, okay? I wouldn’t mind seeing more of Banner myself.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I know I’m… what did Tony call it? Emotionally constipated? Working with the Avengers is the first time I’ve been around people I could confide in for years. So yeah, I’m a little backed up.”
“Keeping your feelings hidden away is second nature for people who’ve been through what you and I have been through. It’s hard to find people to trust, and even harder to let them in.” She hesitated. “But sometimes I find that I want to be open with them anyway. Bruce… if you knew the things I’ve done, would you still—” Nat bit back the question and shook her head, clearly frustrated with herself.
“Nothing from the past would make you any less of the person you are to me, Nat,” I offered gently. “I know there’s some dark stuff back there, hidden in closets you want to forget. I don’t need to poke into them to know who you are.”
Out of nowhere, Nat pressed her lips against mine, arms encircling my neck. I felt the rush of honey and spices and something that felt like home. In that moment was eternity and safety and life. Without giving it conscious thought, my arms had wrapped around her as well, drawing her in.
Then the moment broke, and I pulled back. “Nat… we can’t. I can’t.”
I turned and fled the workout room.
“Your thoughts are elsewhere,” Vision prompted.
I shrugged uncomfortably. “I miss Natasha.”
“You love her.” The words were an observation, not a question.
I nodded silently.
“Does she love you?”
“She did, once.” I shook my head. “I ruined it by running away.”
Vision looked thoughtful.
“It’s for the best,” I added hastily. “Any time anyone gets close to me, they end up hurt. But that doesn’t stop me from missing her.”
“Will you be all right here, Bruce?” Vision asked, standing suddenly. “There is something I need to attend to.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I agreed, confused by his abrupt change of subject. “Thanks for lunch.”
~
I was sitting against the wall, staring into space, when Tony dropped by.
“Hey Bruce.”
“Hi Tony.”
“Brought you something.” Tony set a stack of books on my lap. “You need a change of pace from Mozart’s Moonlight Sonata or whatever it is you keep playing.”
“Beethoven,” I said automatically. “I’ve been playing Beethoven.”
“Still.” Tony gestured to the pile. “This stuff is more upbeat.”
I could tell Tony was still worried, and that made me feel guilty. “Thanks Tony. I’ll try some—what is this?” I picked up the first book off the top. “Led Zeppelin?”
“Good man,” Tony patted my shoulder. “You know if you need anything I’m here, right?”
I nodded.
He paused halfway out the doorway as if suddenly changing his mind about something. “Look, Bruce—after shit like this happens, the body isn’t the only thing that needs healing. If you wanna talk to a therapist or something, I’ve got some contacts who would keep your presence here hush-hush.”
“The flashbacks are getting better,” I said uncomfortably. “But thanks.”
“You’re sure?”
I shrugged.
“Would you tell me if they weren’t?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s what I thought.” Tony crossed back over and sat down next to me. I stiffened at the sudden proximity. “Look, um… When I got back from Afghanistan—a while after, actually—I started having flashbacks and anxiety attacks. Didn’t really understand what was happening at first, since it had been a while since I had escaped. Actually thought I was poisoned, or having heart problems. Guess Petey’s right, our generation isn’t as aware of mental health stuff. But I’ve learned a lot from the experience. And I’m never gonna look down on you if you need help, kay?”
Part of me wanted to lean closer and accept the comforting warmth of a friend, but the part that was still tense at anyone nearby won out. “I’m sorry, Tony. I know you thought you were bringing home an Avenger, but you just got me, and I’m pretty much the opposite of saving the world. I’m a mess.”
“Being a mess doesn’t preclude you from being my friend, though. Have you met me?” Tony joked. “Seriously though, I didn’t bring you here just because you’re an Avenger. You’re a friend. And in a world where the number of those there are around seems to be constantly shrinking, that’s huge.”
I tried to smile. “Thanks, Tony.”
“Well—guess I’ll see you for dinner, then,” Tony got up awkwardly. “Happy piano-ing.”
When Tony left, I took the Led Zeppelin charts to the piano. My fingers played the keyboard transcriptions clumsily. Some of the lyrics stuck out to me, harkening back to a journey through the stars with the remnants of Asgard. How had I become an Avenger, anyway? Everyone else had a giftedness that enriched the world—Tony’s incredible engineering with the arc reactor, Thor’s godhood and associated skills, Steve’s super-strength, Clint’s matchless aim, Nat’s lethal skill. “Valhalla, I am coming…”
“You are one of us now,” Thor proclaimed on the bridge. “Valhalla smiles upon you for your bravery in fighting alongside Asgard in her time of need.”
“Thanks,” I managed, still in a state of confusion from being restored to my smaller and less green form. I didn’t remember any of the battle he was referencing. Did he not realize how fortunate we all were that I had not caused more damage than I had prevented?
“He’s not kidding,” the woman, who I was still trying to place other than having been told she was a Valkyrie, added, taking a swig of some presumably heavily alcoholic beverage. “Asgard’s not a place, it’s a people, yadda-yadda-yadda.”
Why was everyone so bent on convincing me I belonged when it was clear I didn’t? As loathe as I was to admit it, and as terrible as he was at fitting into a normal society, the other guy belonged far more than I ever did or would. He was at least useful in some situations. Banner? Nobody needed him or my seven PhDs. What good was everything I knew in the long run if all I had achieved was to create a monster of more use than I was. One who had given up on me as surely as everyone else should have. The Hulk had made it clear after the incident, when the lab had caught me in the aftermath, that I was on my own.
He hadn’t so much as murmured when I took the broken glass to my arms and hands a few days before. Not that time, or the next. Not even when I shifted the damage to my legs the next day, where it was easier to hide, and safer to go deeper. His voice had gone completely silent.
The musical phrase trailed off halfway as my hands slowed to a halt. I was on my own. The Hulk wouldn’t come out and stop me. I felt a weird, tranquil energy settle over me with a sort of mental clarity. The silence of the room echoed loudly in my ears. My limbs moved almost without my direction. A calm finality hung around as I dug in the cabinets methodically for paper, pen, and a sharp blade.
Before I knew it, I stood before the reinforced doorway. “Code green.”
This was it.