AN: I started on the next chapter just after I posted the last, but while writing it I looked back and decided I wasn't happy with the story. I've been meaning to rewrite it for a while now with more depth, but I'm just now getting around to it. I didn't know how else to inform anyone still interested, so forgive me please. I'll be replacing and deleting chapters as I go. I know this is an odd way of updating, but I didn't know if I should start a new story or replace chapters.

"Rachel? Come on, please don't be mad." James pouted over a bouquet of flowers as he waited for me to speak.

I stared blankly for a moment, first at the flowers and then at him. At one point the idea of being brought flowers made my stomach flutter and heart pound, but now I hardly felt anything. The simple gesture had turned into one that stirred for the most part unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. They'd become a routine part of half hearted apologies over the last two and a half years, tossed unceremoniously in my face whenever he thought I might just consider walking away.

Mustering a smile, I reached and relieved him of the flowers, "I'm not mad." I sighed, masking my inner turmoil as I felt the dull ache in my shoulder resurface with my movement as a reminder of the corner I'd been inadvertently shoved into as he'd stormed out the previous night. The fight, one of countless others, had been over my working after hours and consulting with a coworker of which he immediately assumed I must have been hooking up with due to the other times I'd stayed after. Well the coworker was just an acquaintance, happily married by the way, and I'd been working later and later because New York wasn't the cheapest of places to live.

He beamed as he continued, "I've got a great night planned for us. We'll grab something on the way to the movies…" His plans all seemed to blur together as he elaborated. I'd been distracted by his rapidly changing emotions, it was alarming sometimes, but not new. "Well, are you going to grab a jacket?" James was watching me expectantly. At some point he'd finished talking and I was too lost in thought to notice.

"Ah, yeah." I snapped back to the present, absentmindedly setting the flowers to the side and going to the closet for a jacket.

It being Saturday I'd only been cleaning up around the apartment so far to keep busy, casually dressed in jeans and a tank top. As I pushed a few hangers aside I felt him come up behind me, his hand ghosting over my shoulder where I'd bruised. He hadn't even realized just how hard I'd hit the corner of the wall as he'd gone past. Knowing him and how he tended to minimize things, he probably just thought he'd nudged his way by.

Taking in a sharp breath at the memory still fresh in my mind, I grabbed the next jacket my hand landed on and threw it over my shoulders, "Okay, all ready." I avoided his gaze on the way out for his sake and mine. It was easier to justify what leftover feelings remained if I tried to only focus on the good days.

Throughout what seemed to be the traditional apology routine I couldn't seem to shake the growing feelings of confusion. On good days, I thought he might love me. On the bad days, I felt discarded. Every couple had ups and downs, but the more my eyes opened as I spent time around coworkers despite the jealous outbursts, the more I didn't like the pattern I saw developing over time. I'd met him in my first few months in the city, still new to the swing of things with only one or two people I could call a friend and since then, my time seemed to become more devoted to him. My friends grew distant and new relationships were cut short before they'd had a chance to grow. I could see it now as I spread out the events of these last two and a half years over a timeline.

We returned to my apartment just after dusk, having spent the majority of the afternoon playing through the façade of a happy couple. James took it upon himself to retrieve a vase to fill with water for the flowers I'd left on the dining room table. I simply stood, leaning against the back of the living room couch, observing as he moved about. He'd become comfortable moving about my apartment in the last year after I'd had a spare key made. The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably as it dawned on me that it'd been a mistake to allow my time to be monopolized little by little.

"You've had that look on your face all day, cheer up." James interrupted my thoughts, stopping in front of me as he placed a firm hand on my side, bringing the other up to tilt my chin until our eyes met. "I've said I'm sorry. I thought the day would help with that."

I studied his eyes, void of any true regret that he tried to convey with his expression. And just like that, his stance seemed less caring and more intimidating as he used his height and proximity to keep my attention on him. Again, my stomach began to twist while I watched his expression change as impatience took over soon to be followed by annoyance. He leaned in close, pressing his lips to mine in an attempt to perhaps get a physical response since my words seem to have left me that day. I knew the response he was looking for, but I just couldn't bring myself to it with the knots growing tighter.

When he picked up on my hesitation, he pulled away and pushed himself a step back, simultaneously causing the top of the couch to dig in behind me. "What's your problem? I've apologized and tried to have a nice time with you, but you're still so cold." He grew louder with the accusation, resorting to an argument to elicit an emotional response.

I shrugged as I struggled to find the words I was looking for, but my mouth suddenly seemed to go dry as I watched him bristle already angry again not even a full twenty-four hours after our last fight. As I began to gather my wits about me, I shuffled away from the couch to stand in an open area to avoid somehow being pushed into something again. "I'm tired." It was all I could think to express how I felt. I wasn't physically tired, but emotionally from the constant ups and downs. I was tired of always walking on eggshells. If I wasn't saying something wrong, I was doing something wrong either through my actions or my lack of response.

His gaze bore into me as he kept me in his sights while I repositioned myself. He followed closely, stalking over too close for comfort while he was in such a volatile mood. "You're tired?" He repeated, obviously not satisfied with the answer. "That's all? Alright, let's go."

I jerked back too slow as his hand shot out, his fingers coiling tightly around my arm as he started to lead to the bedroom. He had to have known that it wasn't that simple, but this is the route he seemed to think would lead to a further explanation. "That's not what I mean." I pushed back on my heels and stopped the progression down the hallway, "I mean I'm tired of this, all the fighting. I can't keep doing it." I hated to admit it, but his method definitely got the words to come to mind a lot faster as the adrenaline started going.

"We weren't fighting a minute ago. What are you talking about?" Once again, he was too close for comfort with him standing before me and the wall inches behind me. He stood almost half a foot taller than me and seemed to unconsciously use it to his advantage in these situations.

"I've just been thinking about the last couple of years and…" I lost my voice for a moment as I continued to meet his intense stare. Trying to find my words once again, my eyes drifted down so that I might be able to think clearly, but snapped back when James rested his free hand on the wall close to my head a little too forcefully to be him coincidentally deciding to lean against it at that moment. "…and I'm tired of these fights becoming almost normal."

His frown deepened, "I know I can sometimes be hot headed, but haven't I always made up for it?" His grip on my arm tightened as he tensed in anticipation of my answer. It was beginning to tingle as the blood flow was obstructed, but I didn't want to provoke him with sudden movements. "I've been there for you when you go between your highs and lows."

"It's not the same thing." It was true that I had my low points. There were days where it was hard to even get out of bed and get going. I could be irrational about it and corner myself in a dark place, but it still wasn't the same. Being down wasn't close to possessive and angry.

He gave a huff of laughter, but there was no humor behind it, "Oh so when you have your problems, it's fine. When I have a few, it's too hard to deal with?"

"Just look at my arm." I couldn't think of a better example at the moment. The spot where his hand had been tingled and throbbed as he released his vice grip and observed the reddened skin left in his wake.

His anger seemed to fade as he drew a long breath, eyes wide when the reality of the situation set in. "Rachel, I-" He was the one at a loss for words now. The air was heavy in the small stretch of silence, broken when he spoke again, "I'll get help, I swear."

With a small sigh I shook my head slightly at the hasty promise. "I can't wait for that. What am I supposed to do until then?"

In a flash he was angry again, leaning in close and pausing before deciding it'd be better to stand back, looking down at me for what seemed to be the longest few seconds I'd experienced in a while. Once again, he made his way to the door, storming out as he usually did when the fighting was over. "I sure hope the next guy can deal with all of your crazy, you cold hearted bitch."

The door slammed, shaking the nearby paintings. I just stood there for a moment. Was I really all that cold? I'd tried so hard to make this work. I'd taken every insult, every verbal slap to the face. I'd taken every unwanted and sometimes forced advance. I'd even taken every half hearted apology tossed my way just to make this work. No, this wasn't my fault. I just couldn't explain why I'd shied away sometimes. No matter how many times I tried to say that I still cared and that I wasn't cheating on him, he didn't hear me.

Allowing myself to fall back against the wall and slide down until I was seated on the floor, I pondered over this last fight. Was it really over? Somewhere inside there was relief that mingled with the sadness of the moment.

"Have a great day. See you tomorrow!" Chirped the lively chestnut haired cahier as she handed me my usual drink.

Forcing a smile, I nodded and turned to grab a straw from the set up they had off to the side. It'd been a month since my last fight with James, but he'd taken it upon himself to make sure he wouldn't be put in the back of my mind. He'd call at the latest hours of the night repeatedly, leaving angry messages. If I blocked him, he'd get a new number days later. Twice he'd shown up at my job, the second time resulting in security escorting him off of the premises. The stress kept me up at odd hours and therefore reinforced my need for caffeine. My stops to this shop became more frequent with larger cups and I was still left completely drained in a matter of hours.

Turning on my heel to leave, I snatched a straw and began to fumble with it until I came to an abrupt stop. Actually, I had bumped into someone and spilled my drink all over the floor after losing my grip. "I'm so sorry; did I spill any on you?" I blurted out as I quickly turned back to grab a wad of napkins from the dispenser.

A soft chuckle escaped the man before he answered, "No, it's okay. Just a little on my shoes, but they're fine. Are you okay?"

"I wasn't paying attention, I'm so sorry." Continuing to ramble on, I quickly tried to soak up as much of the liquid as I could before an employee came with a mop. Finally standing up and giving the employee a sheepish look accompanied with another apology, I quickly made my exit of the small shop.

Why did it seem that I always had such a hard time with daily life? I'd moved to a new city to start fresh and I'd managed to dig a hole for myself. I couldn't move again in hopes to solve my problems, so what was there for me to do?

This day like any other dragged by, taking what seemed forever to be over. I'd taken the time to process my thoughts through the day, continuing in doing so as I took up a spot on the roof after working late that night. I was the last to leave lately, but having this view above the chaos of the city below was relaxing. For a while I simply stood as I took it all in, moving only after a few minutes to take a seat along the raised edge of the building. The repaired Stark Industries building was to my back, only a short walk away from where I worked providing enough light to illuminate the rooftop. I, like most took comfort in the knowledge that Tony Stark was nearby, especially after the events that tore through the city months ago. Stretching forward ever so slightly, I peered down at the city below, impressed with the repairs that had been made so far.

"You're not thinking of jumping off, are you?"

Alarmed, I swung myself to face the man intruding on my thoughts. Everyone was supposed to have gone home by now. "How'd you get up here?" I stood, recognizing the man from the coffee shop earlier. Had he followed me?

Cautiously he offered me one of the two coffee cups he'd been holding, but I didn't take it. "Being friends with Tony Stark opens a lot of doors." He smiled uneasily as I eyed him closely, ready to make my escape if need be. It was true enough; we did do business with Stark Industries on occasion.

"And who are you then?" Not wanting to take my eyes off of him, I carefully moved around him and away from my seat on the ledge in case things turned ugly.

"Bruce." He stated simply, and then elaborated upon my unwavering stare, "Bruce Banner. I assist Tony in his research every now and again."

I'd heard that name somewhere, maybe from an article or something. It was quiet for a moment as I studied him. He shifted nervously under my gaze, but something told me it wasn't from weariness of me considering thus far he'd thought me safe enough to approach. "Do you have proof?"

Again, another hint of a smile played on his face, "You sure are careful." He paused, "I guess you have to be when living in a place like this."

I assumed he was referring to the events that devastated part of the city months ago or maybe just New York itself. Refusing to let my guard down, I waited for him to produce some sort of proof. Once more he offered me the drink.

"I need my hand free so I can get to my wallet." He elaborated, still holding out the drink for me. "It's just hot chocolate. You rushed out of the shop so quickly this morning, you never ordered another drink."

Relieving him of the drink and moving just out of arms reach, I waited as he produced a Stark Industries ID from his wallet and held it out for me to see. Despite the darkness of night, the looming Stark building provided enough light for me to read the card. "How'd you find me?" I asked, not missing a beat.

Storing the wallet and ID in his pocket again he squinted at me for a moment as if finding my question odd. It dawned on him a second later that I didn't have the whole story or at least didn't know that he hadn't indeed followed me for whatever reason, "I was working in one of the labs and took a break." He gestured vaguely to the upper floors of the Stark building. "And then I saw you sitting on the ledge here and recognized you."

Nodding, I accepted the story after glancing and assessing how close the buildings were. Finally releasing a tense breath, my shoulders relaxed and I leaned against the ledge I'd been seated on a few minutes ago. This strange meeting couldn't have been the strangest considering it was New York and all.

"For a moment I thought you might be thinking of jumping." Pausing as if thinking of his next statement, he continued, "You just looked so sad somehow this morning and then seeing you leaning over like that I thought-" He stopped himself as he seemed to be deeply contemplating something.

Taking the moment to observe him, I noticed a familiar look in his eyes although I'd never personally met him before. It was unmistakable; I'd seen the look in the eyes of others and myself before. He moved to a spot on the ledge as well and met my gaze. His eyes were kind, but under that there looked to be pain. Maybe I was mistaken. I could have been, but I just didn't think so. Again, he seemed agitated by something unknown to me. A bad memory perhaps? Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone as he looked up at me.

"So what brought you up here?"