#spaceempressloki

Ah! Randomizer. From this meme.

Necessary. It had been necessary. He'd worked hard for years to break through and avoid being cold, emotionless, and avoid shutting that part of himself down. An emotionless world had no pain, but it had no joy either.

But they had been taken. And some miscalculation on the gas they used to knock them out was his only card. He'd have to save Hulk for when they were in the same room. They'd expect him to wake up so they could knock him out again.

The only way to buy more time was to trick them into thinking they had the dosage right and to stay calm. It was better to shut his emotions down now. Anger already boiled beneath his skin. And his pulse would quicken. He breathed. No emotion. Breathe. Keep his pulse low.And he counted until they acted like they expected him to wake up. And he kept counting.

He "woke up" and felt the familiar sting of a needle. Sleep. Repeat. Gather information. Wait.

It was easier to wait and plan when he felt nothing.

He waited. He woke up. They were in the same room. Now.

Hulk roared and took out the attendants, grabbed her, fought everyone. They escaped. But Hulk could feel something was missing.

Necessary. It had been necessary. It was a week later and still he just was. Not happy. Not relieved. Not angry. Not in pain. Hulk had healed whatever physical wounds he had. Bruce knew...once he let himself feel, he'd feel everything again, and it would hurt.

It always hurt. And he would've stayed longer and existed with a part of himself missing again like he was the puny, un-crying boy again. He had been too young. It had been unfair. And Brian, his father, had been all emotion and no control, and he had taken Rebecca, Bruce's mother, away in a flurry of movement and fury--

He hadn't wanted to feel that then. Hadn't wanted to be like Brian Banner. It was better not to feel and keep himself from hurting people. That included Brian. Then, Brian was locked up. And Bruce had kept his shield up because Aunt Susan was kind. And soft spoken. And reminded Bruce of Rebecca. And he hadn't wanted to hurt her either.Necessary.It had been necessary.

But he wasn't a boy now. He was safe on some farm safehouse porch. He held the hand of a woman who loved him. And he was hurting her. He recognized the question, the plea in her searching eyes, even if he didn't feel anything. Hurting her was wrong.

Pain. Necessary. It was necessary. If he wanted love, then he had to feel, had to share in their pain, in his own. And maybe once he let himself feel it, they could feel something else.

She softly sang him the song Rebecca used to calm him after a difficult day. The whole song. Not just a tiny part. She was the only one who knew it now besides himself.

His breath and pulse quickened, his eyes glowed green, he shut them and they embraced each other. And he tried to focus, but his eyes stung with tears. And they stayed entangled and needy and trying to absorb everything that had happened for a while.

Eventually, they rose and tried to enjoy something simple. They waited for her to recover physically. They left the farm and the prying, concerned eyes of their teammates.

And then, it was just them. And he wanted a good memory, wanted to add something good and solid and real and try to shove thoughts of observing,unfeeling eyes, of needles and restraints and drugs robbing them of choice away.

He wanted to feel and wanted them to feel something.

He kissed her lips hard and pressed her against the wall. His fingers roamed over her clothed form and he grunted at the slight tug on his hair as her lips found his neck. Yes. Please.

And it was just them. Her lips and fingers on his skin, the sound of their breaths and groans and "yes-es" and appreciative, urgent, pleas mingling in air and space of the place that was their's. But even that fell away as they bared themselves to each other, completely, fully--body, energy, minds.This was their's. He was her's and she was his.