Forever With You(Science Bros)

Bruce Banner

     I've been running my whole life. I just want to stop. To make it all go away. I race over the barren landscape, my legs pumping harder than ever before. A car was swerving behind me, gaining by the second. The only reason I've managed to stay in front was an ill-timed bomb and some tricks and traps of my making. My damn motorbike had given out as well, so now it was just how long my legs could hold out.

     "I'll get you, Banner! I'll get you if it's the last thing I do! MILKSOP!!!" yelled General Thaddeus Ross passionately, sticking his head out of the passenger-seat window. I debate stopping. I know there is no point in running. I can't keep up this pace for another minute. And if I'm caught, the other guy was sure to lash out. I should just stop. Other than the people in that car, there were only a few others who knew my secret, had seen the other guy up close, had put two-and-two together. But the others won't remember, won't care, who I even am, let alone my secret. I could just give in. But I know, deep inside, that I can't risk it. The other guy will emerge anyway. There's only one way left. 

     I spot a small hollow in the long desert grass. Small, but not too small. Big enough for Ross to wonder where I've gone. Big enough for me to do what was right. Using all of my remaining strength, I swerved, just out of Ross's view, and collapsed in the hollow. My hand shakes as I reached into the pocket of my tattered coat and drew out a shining silver handgun. I'd purchased it just yesterday, so I can do what's right. I knew full well I wasn't in my right mind. I held the gun up to my mouth and pulled the trigger. And then...

Blackness. The world fades away, replaced by an engulfing darkness. Pain. Silence.

     When I awake, it's all dark. As my eyes slowly adjust to the light I see that I'm in a round room, with my arms chained over my head, my clothes ripped and tattered. I look around, recognising the familiar shape and structure of the holding cell. It was one of S.H.I.E.L.D's superhuman holding cells. I've been in one before, but that had been a whole lifetime ago, when I still had the Avengers with me, or so I had thought. The Avengers were being investigated for mass homicide, and had been kept in holding by S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Maria Hill. They had been proved not guilty, but all vigilante movements had been banned and the Avengers had gone their separate ways, and I had headed back on the run. This time, though, I'm all alone. I hack out a cough, feeling the intense pain in my chest. Bullet probably broke a couple of ribs or something. I'm bleeding as well, and I'd coughed up some blood. Through the daze of pain, I heard loud voices outsides. Familiar voice. I'm about to give in to unconsciousness when the door swung open. I looked up, seeing stars. There was someone entering the cell, but my eyes won't focus.

     "Bruce? You okay buddy?" my mind was spins, I couldn't place the voice. It was a familiar voice, someone I knew, or had known, but whom? "Bruce? What'd they do to you pal?" I groan in pain, and I hear another pair of footsteps come in. "Hill, what'd Ross do to him?" the mystery man asked. Hill? As in Maria Hill, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why's she here. Oh yeah, S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cell. What'd I do this time, wipe out Los Angeles? Or was that last week?

     "That's classified, Barton. You better leave. Now." Definitely Hill. Wait, Barton? No... it couldn't be, could it? Clint Barton, Hawkeye? Last time I had seen him we had been on trial for homicide. I thought he had gone back to S.H.I.E.L.D., but didn't know for certain. Why's he here, though? I had severed all ties with everyone. They weren't supposed to remember me, I had seen to that.

     "No! I want to know what they did to Bruce!" Clint was yelling now. I want to tell him it's fine, I'm fine, but the words won't come out.

     "Out! Now! That's an order Barton!" I can't see, my eyes aren't working. What was happening? Clint reached for my shoulder and I wince.

     "Hill, he's hurt. Please. You're not this person. At least let me treat his wounds." Hill groaned.

     "I'll call one of the medics—"

     "—No. I don't trust them. I'll do it. Please Hill. You can do whatever to me later, just please, don't make me watch my friend suffer when I can do something." Clint sounded desperate. Why? Why was he risking all this for me? Hill sighed.

     "Fine. But that's it. You have an hour in the sick bay. Then you're in the wind. I don't want to see your face again. Ever. If that's what you want to risk for Banner, be my guest."

     "Okay. Oh, and Hill, I do risk that for my friends." there's a clicking sound and Clint unlatches my restraints as my eyes clear up. The cuffs must've been sensory restricting.

     "Sorry Bruce, I gotta put these on you." I feel another, lighter, pair of cuffs click onto my wrists and ankles. "What'd they do to you?" I groan.

     "Ugh... Clint?" I wince in pain as he lifts me up. "Ahhhh... t-that y-you...?"

     "Yeah. Yeah buddy. How're you feeling?"

     "Terrible... like I got run over by a bus...." Clint chuckles. "Why're you doing this?" Clint frowns.

     "Doing... what?" he sounds concerned.

     "This... helping me... I thought..."

     "Thought what?"

     "I just didn't think there was anyone left who remembered me, other than in a bad way." Clint stops walking.

     "Why would you think that?"  he sounds shocked. "I—we—the Avengers, we've been trying to contact you for so long. You would never respond."

     "You were? I was off the grid. Old school. As soon as the Avengers disbanded, Ross sent out a warrant for my arrest. I've been running since. Plus, I thought vigilantes weren't a thing anymore." Clint sighed, then laughed.

     "You know, for someone so smart, you can be really dumb." I flinch a little at the word. It brings back memories. "Sorry. You okay?"

     "Yeah... sorry."

     "Don't apologise. Never apologise for something you can't help. But the Avengers are still operating, just covertly. It's just me, Nat, and Cap though. Tony... well, he's going through some, er, troubles, and Thor is off-world. We're a three person peace-keeping agency in honour of Fury. In his legacy." Nick Fury. Killed in battle. Killed by me. The memory is a constant weight on my shoulders, a ghost that haunts my every step. Clint sees my expression and tries to defuse it.

     "Oh, come on. You can't still think that he died because of you. It wasn't—"

I explode, all my pent-up anger, my fury, burst out like a volcano.

     "You weren't there, Clint! You didn't see it! It was my fault! I..." my voice cracks as the memories overwhelm me. The Hulk had rampaged, uncontrollable, unstoppable. Fury had tried to contain the situation, but it had been too much. The destruction, the lives lost, all because I couldn't keep the monster at bay. The images flood back—Fury's final moments, the chaos, my inability to control the other guy. The devastation was unimaginable, and the guilt has been my constant companion ever since.

Clint steps back, his expression shifting from frustration to understanding.

     "Bruce, you have to let it go. Carrying this guilt won't change what happened. Fury wouldn't want this for you."

     "How can I let it go? How can I forgive myself when I see his face every single time I close my eyes?! You don't know what it's like. You'll never know what it's like." Clint shakes his head.

     "I do. I know what it's like. My mentor, Jacques Duquesne, the Swordsman. He trained me, taught me all I know. But he wasn't a great guy. I found out that he and my older brother Barney were doing some things. I knew they were wrong. There was a fight. It was my arrow. He died in my arms. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of him. But I moved on. I fight in his memory." I open my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a scream of agony. "Bruce! What happened?!" I manage to choke out a sentence.

     "Ross... Back of neck. Devi..." I blink into unconsciousness.