Bruce Banner (isalwaysangry) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-05-24 01:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *narrative, bruce banner |
Who: Bruce Banner
What: Narrative
Where: His lab
When: Recently
Warnings/Ratings: Brief suicide reference, nothing big
Bruce got back to his lab, and he didn't feel safe. That was the first warning sign for him. The way his eyes flickered around, looking for exits, thinking about how far he could get if he ran now. There was no reason to feel that way, his logical mind told him, no real threat. It's what stopped him when he found his knapsack and put it down, ready to pack up a few things and flee before the sun came up. No threat. No threat. Except there was, in the strictest sense.
Bruce was the threat. That was the truth of the matter and always had been. When he was worried, it was never for him. If he felt unsafe, it was because he thought he was putting everyone around him in danger. This was amplified in an incredibly high way now that he saw the Ra's angle that escaped him before. A stupid mistake he makes, outthinking himself, because he's curious, because he's searching for information. Led to disaster and murder and mayhem.
This place was changing him, and not entirely for the better. Or maybe it was just the fact he was not in control of anything around him, and that meant danger, that meant terror and death. Tony seemed to think that the more emotional connections he had the better, and it was a nice sentiment, but Bruce disagreed. After the most recent incidents, one right after the other, he didn't think it was good he cared about this many people. Gwen, the daughter he could imagine himself having, if he was able to go down a happier path. She was turning into a danger for herself and the people around her, just like surrogate daddy. Jason, damaged and angry but with his heart shining through. Em, so lonely; Pepper, trying to keep it all together; Natasha, strong and fragile all at once; Steve, wishing the Avengers were a better team. Tony and Selina, the biggest pieces of his humanity, and this was only the start.
Bruce was trying not to have a panic attack. His mind was moving so fast he couldn't keep up. Problems that couldn't be solved. Projects he needed to finish. He couldn't clear his thoughts. There was a reason he stayed isolated. A healthy, rational, and legitimate reason. Maybe he fooled himself into thinking being here could be good too, but the walls were definitely starting to suffocate him. And what did that mean for the lives around him? He could do yoga and meditate and drink tea and do all of his breathing exercises. He could try to end it again. Eventually, the other guy was going to come out again. He nearly goaded him on, as if leaning on him for his problems was going to go anywhere good.
No, this wasn't going to work. He needed a solution or a way to stabilize soon, or people were going to die. Maybe leaving was the option best suited for him; it worked before. He could be doing good again, focusing on others for a change, strangers who needed it the most. Bruce liked the sound of that. Just thinking about it brought his breathing back into control and he was able to sit in a chair, ragged and exhausted and pensive. He would have to research and think about it once his mind took a break.
He had to make the right decision for the people who didn't realize their lives were a bad day away from being snuffed out. Whatever that ended up being.