A Time to Mend
Bruce
When I started to feel my body again, the sprawling buildings of the Asgardian village were already far behind me. I slowed to a stop as I became aware of the rocky shore beneath my stockinged feet. Or at least, they had been stockinged when I left. I looked down and cursed at the shreds of fabric stuck to my bleeding soles. Vision was going to scold me again.
I stumbled a few more feet to take shelter under a stony overhang protruding from the great cliffs that stretched above me from the narrow beach, and collapsed onto the ground. I closed my eyes. The surf roared loud in my ears, and I tried to let the sound absorb me into it, to wash away the events of the past few days… months, even years…
But even in the roar of the sea I heard the echoes of the roar of the crowds on Sakaar, the roar of the Hulk in Johannesburg, the roar of gunfire at Culver, haunting me and pulling me back, over and over, into a past I could not escape. I choked out a sob. The others thought I hated to be trapped because of ongoing conflict with General Ross, getting backed into a corner, waking up on lab tables to be experimented on and tortured, but no one seemed to realize that the worst trap I had ever found myself in was my own mind. I was the monster and the cage, all in one.
Huddled beneath the cliffs as the sky slowly grew dark, I dropped my head to my knees and wept.
Natasha
My first thought was to follow Bruce, but as I ran out into the hallway, I found I couldn’t breathe. I clutched at my chest as words rang loud in my ears.
“Can she do it?”
“She’s a killing machine, a monster. The best there is.”
I fumbled my way along the wall to the bathroom door in a breathless haze.
“Give her a mark, and the mark is as good as dead.”
Bile rose in my throat, and I vomited into the toilet, grateful that the Asgardians had adopted enough elements of Midgardian architecture that I could recognize the layout of their bathrooms while falling apart. Was there a patron saint of bathrooms? I hadn’t set foot inside an Orthodox church since before the Red Room, not for the purposes of attending a liturgy, anyway…
The mark closed his eyes, clutching prayer beads in pale fingers, oblivious to the world as I dropped behind him, knife in hand…
I heaved again. Years of SHIELD-mandated therapy, and still there were memories I never spoke of. A makeshift blade, carefully twisted out of a scrap of broken metal, slipped to the floor, forgotten and stained with blood...Things I thought I had left in the past, buried so deep that I thought could forget. Why was this all coming back? I knew the answer, but I couldn’t confront it even now, dozens of years later. So much blood… I scrubbed my hands futilely against the sweatpants and gasped for air.
Hearing someone approaching, I tried to get up, but swayed and almost blacked out.
Tony’s hands caught me. “Romanoff? Are you okay?” There was genuine concern in his voice.
“Dizzy,” I admitted. “Can’t. Breathe.” Tony helped me back to the floor. To my surprise, he stayed, waiting until the panic had subsided and my breathing returned to normal.
“I really screwed up, didn’t I.”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
Tony ran a weary hand through his hair. “I lost him. By the time I got to the door, he was gone.”
“Did you check the jet?”
“FRIDAY has orders to lock him out and alert us if he goes there.”
“We can’t track you in stealth mode. Help me out.” Two years of radio silence and unresolved grief, only to lose him again…
Tony
Natasha shuddered at some unseen memory and tried to get up.
“Natasha—”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, but the tremor in her hands as they grasped at the wall for support belied the assertion.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I have to go find him. I can’t lose him again.”
I stopped her, worried. “I can’t let you go out there like this. We can’t lose you, too.”
Light glinted off the rims of her reddened eyes from the bathroom’s single lamp. “You’re on a team with a whole lot of monsters, Tony.”
Guilt twisted in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but she silenced me with a look.
“In the Red Room… one of the other girls…" Natasha faltered. "She took a knife to her arms. And do you know what I did? I sat there, and I watched. I watched as she bled out, weeping for her mother, for a family she would never see again, utterly alone. And I did nothing. She looked me in the eyes, and said ‘I don’t want to die.’ Then I finally moved, but it wasn’t enough. There was blood all over my hands, but I couldn’t stop it; it was already too late. She was gone. From that moment on, I have been a killer.”
For once, I was speechless. There were no words that could possibly rise up to meet what my teammate had shared with me, no consolation, no platitude, no comfort.
“I’m the best tracker we have, and I am not losing him again. Let me go.” Natasha set her jaw, daring me to stop her again.
“I can find him.”
We both looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. All the air rushed out of me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I felt the sickening clang of a shield burying itself in my chest.
“He’s the only family I have left.”
“I know what a monster looks like, and that isn’t it.”
“You’re on a team with a whole lot of monsters, Tony.”
My arm rose almost without conscious direction, despite the instinct screaming in my head to gear up for a fight. Germany, Siberia, Zemo—all of it be damned. “Tony Stark.”
“James Buchanan Barnes.” A firm hand accepted my own. “But my teammates call me Bucky.”
I nodded stiffly. “Welcome to the team.”
Bucky guided Natasha back to my support. “Take Nat back to the great hall to get something to eat before she passes out. I’ll go find your friend.”
“Wait,” I stammered out. “He doesn’t know you. Steve—”
Bucky nodded. “I’ll let Steve talk to him.”
Bruce
Footsteps crunched on the gravelly shore as familiar feet approached.
Steve settled in beside me. For a moment, all was quiet. “You’re not a monster, Bruce.”
I felt so small sitting next to him. No matter how much I wished what he said could be true, I knew it wasn’t. “I didn’t say it for pity,” I said awkwardly. “It’s true, and I have to accept that.”
“I don’t believe that.” Steve shook his head.
“The serum amplifies what's already there. Remember?” Heaven knows I had been told that enough by Ross, and heard it echoed in every museum exhibit, documentary, and article on the star-spangled hero. I closed my eyes, ashamed to look at him after the uncomfortable admission.
“Oh God, is that what you’ve believed all this time?” Steve grabbed me by the shoulders. “Bruce, look at me. You didn’t—the Hulk isn’t—you aren’t green because there’s something wrong with you. Amplifying what’s already there just means we have more power behind our intentions to carry out whatever work is at the core of who we are, for better or for worse. Otherwise I’d have died from the mother of all asthma attacks within weeks of the procedure. I was lucky, it was a fluke… did you know everyone who’s undergone the same procedure, everyone except you and me—they’re dead. Every last one. A lot of them were good people. You’re a good person. Your reaction to the serum doesn’t change that.”
I was silent for a moment, fiddling with my sleeves and trying to avoid Steve’s earnest eyes. He frowned and grabbed my wrist.
“You are wounded. Has the Hulk—“
“Long story,” I stammered out. My heart hammered in my chest. “The other guy doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. I don’t blame him.”
“Bruce—”
I pulled my arms back, retreating farther into my shell.
“Does Nat know? She seemed worried about you.”
Hot tears welled up and threatened to fall as I nodded mutely.
“If the long story is one you’re willing to tell, I’m willing to listen.” Steve leaned back against the cliff, resting his arms on his knees.
“I don’t know how to tell it yet,” I admitted. I hugged my arms closer against my chest.
Steve just nodded. “Okay.” He paused. “You don’t deserve this. Whatever happened… you don’t deserve it.” We sat in silence, listening to the ebb and flow of the water at the shore's edge. Fog had risen up, obscuring the horizon.
Without warning, like a dam meeting its breaking point, the words finally came tumbling out. “I did it.”
“What?”
“I did it,” I repeated louder. "I was trying to fix what I broke when I caused the Hulk, but I've just made things worse." With shaking hands, I reached for the seam of the bandage on one arm and unwrapped it. Nat’s neat row of stitches stared back at me from the angry line in my flesh.
There was silence. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Steve. “I do deserve it,” I said softly, “because I brought it on myself.”
Wordlessly, and with surprising gentleness, Steve took my arm and rewound the bandage. As he pinned the end in place, he enclosed my hand in both of his. “You still don’t deserve it,” he said huskily.
"I shouldn't have run off." I changed the subject abruptly with a tremor in my voice I couldn't quite shake. "Tony and Nat probably think I'm halfway to the Amazon right now."
Steve saw right past the faltering attempt to brush off what I'd admitted to, straight to the fear that the truth would drive away anyone who knew. "You know," he commented gently, "none of us would have made it this far without you and the Hulk. Maybe there was a mistake, back when you first transformed... I'm not a scientist, so I can't say. But if it was a mistake, you've managed to do a whole lot of good with it. I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear that from, considering the results I ended up with are a whole lot easier to live with, but I don't see you or the Hulk as a problem that needs destroying. You're a friend... both of you. I think I can speak for the whole team on that."
I dropped my head into my arms as my eyes betrayed me and tears began to run down my face. "Cap... it's so hard to come out the other side. Walking into moments I never expected to see, facing things I didn't imagine or plan for. It was all supposed to end, but then... I'm still here. I don't know what to do anymore."
"I've never been in your situation," Steve offered, "but when I came out of the ice... it was hard. Disorienting. Overwhelming. I think that when you expect to die, when you come that close to an end, anything past that point is going to feel wrong. But you're not facing any of that alone. Not anymore."
A warm jacket settled around my shoulders. I realized belatedly how much the evening's chill had soaked into my bones as I pulled the thick fabric around me gratefully.
"Let's meet Bucky, get you back inside, and get some food in you."
Tony
Color slowly returned to Natasha’s face as she sat by the fire, sipping the warm soup. The Valkyrie had stopped by to offer her a change of clothes, and now she was comfortably dressed in Asgardian robes.
The Guardians had gathered on the other side of the great hall to eat supper, but after the long day we’d had, Natasha and I both seemed to agree without words to stay over where it was quieter.
“Got your message,” Rhodey said, joining us and sliding a crate onto the table.
“How was the flight over?”
Rhodey cracked his neck. “Not bad. You?”
“Long story.” I drummed my fingers on the container's surface. “I should fill you in on the Thanos situation first.”
Bruce
Conversation lulled around us as I entered the great hall, leaning wearily on Steve and Bucky for support.
“Promise me you’ll take care of your feet after dinner,” Steve murmured in my ear.
I nodded.
Tony got up from where he was sitting. For a brief moment I was nervous that the confrontation from earlier would continue, but nothing about his bearing was threatening as he approached.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You hungry, Brucie?”
“I guess I could eat.” I allowed him to steer me over to the table with Nat.
“Look, what I said earlier—” Tony fumbled out, “I didn’t mean—you’re not—”
I sank onto the bench. “It’s okay, Tony. I know.”
Tony turned back towards the men who had helped me back to the village. “You’ll join us?”
Bucky and Steve exchanged an unreadable glance; Bucky nodded.
Natasha slipped her hand around mine beneath the table and squeezed it. A spark jumped between our fingertips, but she just laughed at the shock of electricity.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
“Are you?”
She nodded. “I am now.” In the warm firelight, her eyes sparkled. I took in the long, gathered dress, so different from her usual attire or even the sweats she had worn earlier in the day.
“Asgard looks good on you.”
Nat smiled. “I got it from the Valkyrie.”
“Huh. Never seen her in a dress.”
“And you probably never will—she said I should keep it.”
I chuckled. “Sounds about right.”
“Glad you’re back,” she murmured, resting her head against my shoulder.
“I promised you, I’m done trying to escape,” I reminded Nat, relaxing into her touch. “Just... needed to clear my head.”
“The band’s back together,” Thor declared cheerily, emerging behind Bucky and Steve and clapping them both on the shoulders with such force that any of the rest of us would have been knocked sprawling. “By the way, I shall be needing all of your cellphone summoning codes.”
Loki hung back behind him. “I blame you for unleashing this madness upon us, Stark.”
Tony smirked. “Considering his phone keeps getting stolen, I figured an upgrade was in order. You’re just mad that I linked it to an optic scanner.”
“You’ve been busy,” I commented, blowing on the bowl of soup Nat had pushed in front of me.
“Rhodes picked it up from the compound for me. Figured we could bring him into the modern world over dinner.”
Loki humphed and slid into a seat on the far side of Nat. Steve frowned, but said nothing.
“It’s alright, friend Rogers,” Thor reassured him. “My brother is a prankster, but he means you no harm.”
“Where is Rhodes?” Steve asked.
“He and Sam went out for a walk about an hour ago,” Tony explained.
Steve nodded gravely. “Sam carries a lot of guilt from Germany,” he said. “I imagine they have a lot to talk through.”
A raccoon plunked a tall mug of what appeared to be Asgardian alcohol on the table at Steve’s elbow, interrupting the tense moment. Steve jumped, much to Tony’s amusement. I ran quickly through the brief descriptions of the guardians Nat had given me earlier.
“You must be Rocket.”
The raccoon chuckled. “You must be the one who turns green and smashes stuff. I would very much like to see that.”
I flinched.
“You will keep your paws to yourself, rabbit,” Thor boomed from the far end of the table before I had the chance to respond. “Although the Hulk is indeed spectacular,” he added almost wistfully.
“I am Groot,” the tree-like creature in Rocket’s wake muttered to himself.
“You watch your mouth!” Rocket snapped back. “And give me that ale, it’s not good for you.” He appropriated the mug's contents into his own.
Steve, in a noble attempt to process the oddity of the situation, nodded gravely at the tree. “I am Steve Rogers.”
“Captain, Tree was merely expressing his annoyance that no one appreciates his continual greenery,” Thor explained, “albeit in much stronger terms.”
“That reminds me,” Tony commented to himself, digging around under the table.
“You speak Groot?” A green woman—Gamora, if I remembered correctly—questioned as she led the rest of the guardians to join us at the table.
“It was an elective.”
Steve
Tony plunked a familiar disc on the table in front of me. “If we’re going to fight Thanos, you might need this.”
“You sure?” I looked at the shield, soaking in the memories it evoked, from happy to bittersweet, jubilant to downright painful.
“Listen, I screwed up. In a lot of ways. But us being a team? That wasn’t a screw-up. And if we’re going to do this, we need to do it together.”
I ran my hand over the cool vibranium. “In that case, Tony, let’s go get this son of a bitch. Together.”
He cracked a smile. “Keep that kind of talk up and I’ll have to wash your mouth out with soap.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” Tony raised an eyebrow. I grinned. He extended a hand, and I accepted the overture. Perhaps, even as the universe threatened to crumble around us, some broken things could mend.
“Welcome back, Cap.”