cracked_lens: (Vulnerable)
They had been in their hideaway for a week when Bruce inevitably had a night of terrors.

He didn't mind nightmares, or insomnia. Both of those were something he could deal with. Night terrors though, he didn't know if he was awake or asleep, so when he actually got up, it was the third time he thought he had got up and really wasn't convinced he was actually awake and moving.

He shuffled through to Jarvis' room, because at least this way his mind might give him some respite from the things in the corners. And then calmly curled himself up on the foot of the bed, staring blankly at the wall
cracked_lens: (Stubborn)
They had spent the better part of the last week getting settled.

The place was clean, aired out and dusted. The linen was all clean and there was actual food in the kitchen, not just emergency supplies.

Bruce had spent time exploring around them, judging where they were, how far out, how safe it was for all three of them to be out in the forest, because if there was something he had learned, it was that letting Hulk out on a regular basis was actually better for keeping him under control and relatively calm.

But, it wasn't just him at risk now. So he came to find Jarvis, already wearing Hulk's pants (thank the heavens for Stark fabrication facilities) and his own clothing over the top. "Jarvis? I have a proposal."
cracked_lens: (Stubborn)
Bruce arranged to see Jarvis online at their usual time, once a week, but he knew, 18 hours before they were due to speak, that he wouldn't be making their appointment.

He had always thought he had an instinct about these things, but now he knew better. It wasn't him that had the hyper acute hearing and it wasn't entirely him that came awake in a flash, hearing the too silent night air broken by a foot step on the snow outside.

He didn't even think about what to do. He grabbed his already packed bag, slipped on an extra jacket and shoved his warmed blanket into his backpack before he was opening his window. The cold burned his face, shocking him further awake.

He climbed out, clinging to the frame while he waited for the last of them to slip inside and then dropped into the thickest part of the snow. He ran along the tracks they had made coming in back to the cleared carpark and started testing door, silently offering thanks when one opened and he could slide inside, into the backseat foot well and drag the blanket over him.

Lying there, he watched the night crawl into the grey light of late morning sunrise. Only then did he slip out of the car, hoping to quietly leave and get on the next train going anywhere else.

A hand came down on his shoulder and Hulk roared inside of him.

Bruce just felt cold.

"This way, American. You are expected."

Sorry, Jarvis. He nodded slightly and went quietly.

He wasn't going to risk the civilians around here. He'd have to wait for them to isolate him before he made his move to escape and hope Jarvis didn't think he had blown him off.
cracked_lens: (Default)
Bruce ran.

It was what he did, when it became too dark, or too light, or too much like caring or too much like a pain that never quite moved out of solar plexus except to crawl up his throat and choke him.

When it was too much like being out of control, he ran, because he could control where he went and he could control who he let see him. And these days, different than ever, he could hear the rumbles of the Other Guy, not just mindless fury and rage but a broken dialogue of life as seen by something impossibly young and old and unknowing.

He didn't boot his laptop up for a month. It was out of power and he didn't want to know about the outside world, his inside world was too upset and unsettled to risk letting the outside world in there as well.

It was somewhere in Northern Sweden, when the sun barely crawled above the horizon and it was so cold that it numbed down the anger that he was able to bring himself to open up his laptop. He deleted all emails from Tony; he couldn't face Tony's need and screaming, out of control emotions and burning bright and fast life. Steve emails went the same way, the perfect example of everything that was wrong with Bruce, perfect kindness and caring and brilliant, glowing self.

He didn't load any news up. He didn't want to know. Couldn't face that.

And without Jarvis scanning for Tony, looking, watching, calculating... he logged into one of the science sites, using his alternative id, the one Tony hadn't paid for, the one he'd used when Mr Green was his only contact with the developed world.

Jarvis had probably known it. But that didn't feel like an issue any more.

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