Chapter Text
General Ross never gave up on finding Bruce—SHIELD simply delayed the scientist's capture by making him an unofficial member of Team Avenger and nigh untouchable. Bruce knew this, knew that it was time for him to move, but he let himself grow comfortable with the Avengers and Avenger Tower. He let himself believe he was a part of the Avengers. Invincible. He let himself ignore the pounding instinct in his head, shut out the Other Guy's warning howls of the hunter closing in.
Doing so left him nowhere but in a Hulk-proofed cell doped up on specially-engineered sedatives that could kill three and a half cattle herds. Bruce lifted his head, staring at the door, silently begging and praying that one of his teammates would burst in at any moment. The only person that ever met his hopeful gaze was another scientist, another needle, another dose, another experiment. His strength gave out, and his head fell again.
As minutes, hours, days (could it have already been weeks?) passed, Bruce's lingering hope of rescue faded. He had hoped he had found a friend in Tony, a protector in Steve, maybe even understanding in Clint. Now, chained to a triple-reinforced metal wall sedated past what should be survivable, Bruce found himself slipping back into a detrimental state of mind. Soft rumblings of discontent reverberated around his skull, the Other Guy reduced to nothing more than barking. If given the chance, Bruce thought he could truly die at the moment.
The door screeched open once more. Bruce, not even sure why he continued to hold out, forced his head up only to see General Ross's smug face. He let his chin fall against his chest again, preparing for the general's grand victory speech.
“Well, well. Bruce Banner. It's a pleasure to see you again.” Hard-soled boots clicked across the floor. “These are much more amicable terms, don't you agree?”
Bruce scoffed. “I'm caged,” he whispered. Even those two words made him feel like he did after reverting back to himself from the Other Guy's rampages.
“Indeed. And are apparently enjoying the accommodations. Nothing has been broken and none of my staff have been mauled. I'd say that the past three days have been good to you.”
Three days. Three days that the Avengers hadn't rescued him. Three days that he'd been transported back to a hell he'd run from for what felt like years.
“Oh, don't give me that look, Dr. Banner. The fun's just starting after all.” Ross grinned, pacing in front of the chained man. “We've been pumping you full of sedatives. A normal person would be dead by now. But thankfully that brute keeps you alive, so now comes the fun part.” He grabbed Bruce's chin, jerking his face up. “Now we get to see if our sedative works against outside stimulus.”
Outside stimulus—the meaning of those words didn't sink in at first. When the drugs finally let Bruce's mind work through the context, his eyes widened and panic gave him a burst of adrenaline.
“No, you can't,” he gasped, struggling against his bonds.
“But I can. That's the reward.” Ross laughed, stepping away from Bruce. “If those sedatives work correctly, I can do whatever the hell I want to you and that monster.” His footsteps recede out of Bruce's sight, stopping just before he exits the room. “By the way, I'm sure my daughter sends her sympathies.”
“Betty?” Bruce breathed, a fresh scent of hope putting the light back in his eyes.
“Don't think that she's your ticket out of here, Doctor. She's happily on vacation with her boyfriend in the Bahamas for another week. More than enough time for us to conclude our reunion.”
The hope in Bruce died at those words, curling in on itself to be replaced by pain and fear. The physical experiments started after General Ross left—knives, blunt force, electricity, chemicals, anything the scientists could think to use. The Other Guy grunted and groaned, but neither he nor Bruce had the strength to fight back. The mental torture came after a short break from the physical.
Whichever scientist had managed to create the hallucinatory drug that rocketed Bruce back to his childhood needed to be commended but also punched through a wall or six. The sound of his own screams were enough to deafen Bruce as he begged his father to stop hitting his mom, to stop hitting him, to leave them alone, to just go and die. The rumbles of the Other Guy grew louder during that phase, almost as if he wanted to keep Bruce grounded, remind him that the past couldn't hurt him. The drug would have broken him if not for the Other Guy.
Screeching metal from Bruce's prison cell created a vertigo in his mind. One blink of the eye showed his father dragging a crowbar over the oil-stained stone floor of their old garage. A red-and-gold suit, followed by a black-clad woman with fiery hair, filled the next. The two images warred with each other. Sounds of battle and pained screams siphoned into the hallucination, worsening the illusion and then there were five versions of his father, all yelling and beating him.
“Bruce. Bruce, c'mon, buddy, come back.”
Cold fingers pressed against Bruce's cheek. The hallucination supplied knives between his father's fingers digging into his skin. He inhaled sharply, jerking his head away.
“No more,” he whimpered, caught in the hallucination. “Please stop, daddy.”
A high-pitched whining sound focused Bruce's thoughts. He blinked away his father's illusion, replacing it with Tony's determined and sweaty face. A sharp pain called him further back into reality as Tony released one of the bonds pinning Bruce to the wall. His body, unused to supporting its own weight, fell completely against his one arm that remained manacled.
“Shit. Sorry, I'm sorry.” Panic flashed through Tony's eyes. He lifted Bruce's free arm and propped it onto his shoulder, leaving enough room to work on the other manacle.
“You came...?”
Tony paused in his work, a range of emotions shifting his face as he stared at the other scientist. He opened his mouth once, twice, before finally nodding and returning to his work. “Yes. Yes, we came to rescue you, Bruce.”
“Huh. Imagine that,” Bruce murmured, the sedatives and hallucinatory drug traveling quicker with his increasing adrenaline and heart rate. The two drugs, combined in the quantities that were in his body, finally knocked him out.
~*~*~*~
No one openly confronted Bruce about his ordeal for a month. He didn't know whether they wanted him to heal or were worried that he would bolt at the first sign of a problem. After the rescue, Bruce spent a week in SHIELD's critical care unit. Nurses and doctors alike learned not to approach him with any sort of apparatus used during his torture at the risk of another leveled hospital floor. His teammates visited him every day, doing their best to distract him, bring him back and tether him to the present.
Once the week passed, Bruce demanded he be released to Avengers Tower. The doctors refused at first, but not much can be done against an irate and distressed Hulk. Bruce returned to Avengers Tower only to shut himself away in his room to work at his personal lab.
Two more weeks passed. Bruce only left his room for necessities—to eat and to visit the bathroom. He learned the best times and ways to avoid the Avengers and what he believed to be their pity.
Natasha took things into her own hands three days later. She caught him on his trip back to his room from the kitchen in the middle of the night. Her hand, pale skin soft against his own tanned and scarred wrist, gently pulled him to the sitting room where the others waited. He wanted to bolt as soon as he laid eyes on them, unprepared for the pity he was about to receive, but Natasha's gentle grip held him just as tightly as General Ross's manacles. Bruce sat in the only available chair, on the edge of his seat because of his reignited inability to relax and flee.
“Dr. Banner.” Steve frowned at himself. “Bruce,” he corrected. “I hope you'll be happy to hear that General Ross has been stripped of his rank and duties and is now awaiting a trial for what he put you through over the years.” The soldier leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “SHIELD has also coerced the American government into granting you amnesty. No branch of the government is now allowed to hunt you on the basis of speculation or experimentation.”
Bruce managed a small and self-deprecating smile. “There's no way the government will agree. They'll be back to hunting me within another week.”
“Should they decide that that is more preferable than living out the remainders of their lives, then I will gladly give them what they desire.” Natasha's curt words stung like ice. Her eyes softened when Bruce flinched at her tone, a mixture of sadness and rage battling in her twitching lips. “I would kill that man in the most painful way I know if I were given permission,” she murmured.
“Bruce, buddy.” Tony spoke next, catching and holding his friend's gaze. A haunted look lingered in his eyes. “I'm sorry.” His voice cracked, surprising Bruce. Tony Stark never lost his cool—not even, according to the reports, after he returned from his imprisonment overseas. “I'm sorry we didn't get there quicker. We couldn't,” he inhaled slowly, “find you.”
Shaking his head, Bruce slumped into the chair. “It's not your fault. I don't blame you. I mean,” Bruce laughed sharply, “it's not like I'm a real Avenger. Why would you need the pathetic little man if he weren't connected to the huge green rage monster?”
Much to everyone's surprise, Tony spoke first. He lurched to his feet, his eyes flaring. “Don't you ever think that, Bruce Banner. Don't you ever let yourself think that this,” he fumbled over his words, motioning to the Avengers, before finding his train of thought, “that this team doesn't want you here. Whatever your father told you? When you were, what, six? Maybe seven?” Tony smiled grimly at the resulting flinch. “Yeah, whatever that piece of shit told you, it's not true. It wasn't then, and it isn't now.”
Steve looked confused, but understanding lit Natasha and Clint's faces. Thor, silent through the exchange so far, obtained an even stonier look, if that were possible. Bruce recoiled further into his seat, attempting to make himself small and unnoticeable as he had all those years ago. The pain and recognition on Tony's face near to broke Bruce's heart. He had known about Tony—the uncharacteristic flinches and aversion to certain tools of the trade, the drinking binges and marathon work sessions, the difficulty making friends and letting people in—were tell-tale, especially to someone who experienced the same emotions and urges.
“How did you beat it?” Bruce whispered, shifting his eyes to the floor.
“I haven't, Bruce. That's the thing.” Tony laughed. Though it was the characteristic Stark laugh, Bruce could now hear the glass behind the facade. “But I know for damn sure that you're not a monster and you don't deserve to be treated like one.”
Tension filled the air as Tony slowly approached Bruce, his hands lifted slightly at his sides as a sign of peace. Bruce felt the Other Guy rumble in discontent, felt him eyeing Tony in suspicion. The scientist pictured Tony as Iron Man. He and the Other Guy always had fun in battle trying to best the other in number of downed opponents. At the image, the rumbling quieted though the tension remained. The Other Guy wasn't about to let Bruce be tortured or harmed like that ever again.
Clammy fingers on his arm jolted Bruce from the reverie, pushed him into even more of a ball, but Tony's hand never left his arm. The support and friendship in the other's eyes never wavered, and only that let Tony skim over the healing wounds from Bruce's capture.
“You can make it through this, Bruce. It sure as hell won't be easy, but you'll have five people right here willing to help you through it.”
A glance around Tony showed the other Avengers agreeing. Not one of them exuded a drop of pity for Bruce—only support. Steve stood, mimicking Tony's slow and sure movements until he, too, stood in front of Bruce. He paused, thinking, before kneeling next to the chair instead of standing over Bruce.
“I also want to apologize if anything we've said never made it official, Bruce.” Steve held his hand out, a warm smile settling Bruce's buzzing mind and finally calming the Other Guy. “Welcome to the Avengers. We're glad to have you on the team.”
For the first time in his life, the tears that rolled down Bruce's stubbled cheeks were from happiness as he shook Steve's hand.