Warnings: language, mostly.

I am, as always, infinitely grateful for my beta, irite, without whom this whole endeavor would not have happened.

I do not own The Avengers.

In his cell, Loki appeared sullen, standing in the center with his arms crossed across his chest, head bowed.

And Thor wanted to have this conversation, wanted to play babysitter to Loki, about as much as he wanted to attempt trimming his own hair with Mjölnir. That is to say, not at all. But being as Loki was his brother (adopted or not, Thor maintained they were kin...even to his detriment), Thor had been volunteered to this task.

He approached the cell and spoke loudly and clearly, unsure if the glass walls would distort his words. "Loki."

Loki looked up, glaring. Apparently, he wasn't any more thrilled with this situation than Thor was. "Thor. What a...cacophonous and...pleasant surprise."

His tone indicated that it was neither pleasant nor a surprise.

Thor wasn't entirely sure how to begin. This wasn't the first time he'd had to face down his megalomaniacal younger brother in a prison cell, yet somehow it never got easier. He tried again, quieter this time, "Are you well?"

"Oh yes," Loki replied graciously, with only a hint of a sneer. "Perfectly comfortable, thank you." He waved an arm around his empty cell. "These accommodations are exemplary."

Okay, so that probably wasn't the correct thing to say. Well, he might as well be direct. That suited him better by far. And the faster he got this over with the better, really. "Loki, I do not understand why—"

Loki turned away and began to pace, cutting him off. "There are a great many things you do not understand, Thor, so let us cut to the chase. You undoubtedly wish to ascertain why I acted as I have here, and will likely not accept 'I was bored' as an answer. And you will not see me out of this realm until I've explained because of some misguided loyalty to these Midgardians. Very well. Suffice to say that I saw an injustice and believed it needed to be corrected." He paused, then added, "And, well, Banner needed to see it for what it was."

"What do you mean?" Thor asked. Loki usually talked in riddles, but this was something new.

Loki rolled his eyes; obviously, explaining something this simple was trying for him. "Banner could not see the injustice that had been committed against him. It could not stand. SHIELD treating him as they did was insupportable, and he needed to understand that it was not acceptable." He shrugged. "I played a part in his ordeal, and I saw fit to correct it, if possible."

Thor considered this. It did not seem like his brother was lying about his motives, although Loki acting so selflessly was odd. And his concern for Dr. Banner was unprecedented as well. No, there had to be something else at play here. Thor prompted, "And what possible gain was there for you in this? As I see it, you have gained nothing and lost much."

Loki sneered, "I cannot just act out of the 'goodness of my heart?' No? Well, I was bored." Thor felt his eyes widen in disbelief, and Loki smirked. "The whole of the universe at my fingertips, and not a single thing worth doing. Seeing Banner revenge himself upon his tormentors seemed like an interesting prospect. And I am not exactly enamored with SHIELD, so any harm that might befall them was certainly not a deterrent." He paused in his pacing and admitted, "I did not expect the outcome that occurred, but I suppose even the best-laid plans sometimes falter."

Thor was surprised. One, Loki's calm acceptance of his failure was uncharacteristic. Second, he was currently swimming in information he hadn't expected to gain. Thinking Loki was misleading him for some treacherous purpose, he asked, "Why are you being so forthright, brother?"

Loki shot him a glare at the reference. "I do not exactly have much left to lose." Then he smirked. "And you are returning me to Asgard, yes?"

Thor nodded cautiously; it had been agreed that their parents were, despite their past failings, best equipped to deal with Loki.

"Then I have nothing to fear for my actions."

That was true. Odin would not see Loki executed, and imprisonment seemingly held no particular dread for him.

Loki leaned casually against one wall of his cell. "Perhaps my work here is incomplete, but I daresay it was effective enough. Banner will never again be so simple to subdue, will never again submit to shackles and bondage, and that may yet be enough revenge upon SHIELD to satisfy me. Although...I doubt it."

Thor doubted this, too. Still, for the moment, Loki was contained. He would be transported back to Asgard as soon as Thor could arrange it; that is, within a day, and what more could they do, really? Loki was unpredictable, and powerful, and very, very clever.

A bad combination.

Seemingly reading Thor's mind, Loki smiled at him, the absolute picture of innocence.

Thor sighed. He needed to report to the others.

He signaled to the camera in the corner, and a veritable squadron of SHIELD agents came almost at once, relieving Thor from his post so he could discuss what he had learned with the rest of the team.

Tony's phone rang at 9:00 PM, three hours after Bruce had gone back to sleep.

It was Steve. Again.

Rolling his eyes (because what part of 'don't call a lot' didn't Steve get?) and stretching out on his bed, Tony answered, "Yes, dear?"

"We're done meeting for tonight," Steve informed him, letting the 'dear' slide. "And I think Fury's going to give in. On everything."

This was news. The last time Steve had called, it had been 'Fury's not going to let your part in this slide, and he's not going to let Bruce go on uncontrolled.' So he asked, "Yeah? What changed?"

When Steve answered, he sounded abashed. "I, uh, well I might have threatened him, like we talked about. And he'd do just about anything to protect SHIELD, which includes brushing this mess under the rug." He paused, and when he resumed, he sounded annoyed. "He wanted evidence that just letting all this go wasn't going to be the end of the damn world. That he wasn't doing the wrong thing."

Tony snorted. "Right, and what he was doing before, with the drugs and shit, that was the 'right thing.'"

Steve sounded more annoyed when he answered. "Actually, it turns out Fury wasn't completely in the loop with what Locklear and the rest of the 'medical' teams were doing. They answered mostly to the World Security Council—don't ask me about it, I don't understand the chain of command, it's a mess—so he was just reading general reports that they sent over."

Tony clenched his jaw. That asshole didn't know? He'd just signed off on all this shit without even knowing? To him, that didn't exculpate the director, it actually made his actions worse. "So, what, you spelled it out for him? What was going on?"

"Not exactly," Steve answered. "Clint strongly suggested he take a look at the full files. I think he will; he doesn't like not knowing everything, and he especially doesn't like having one of us 'assholes' point out that he doesn't know everything."

Tony nodded to himself—it was a good point.

"Anyway," Steve went on, "We're resuming at 8:00 tomorrow morning. After he's had a chance to get a look at exactly what's been going on in their research facilities."

"Good to know," Tony said. "So, when do you think me and Sleeping Beauty can head home? Now?" The idea of getting out of this motel room was more than a little appealing.

Steve paused before suggesting, "I, well, the four of us talked about it, and we think you and Bruce should come in tomorrow. To the meeting."

Tony's mouth answered before his brain even had a chance to catch up. "Not a chance, Cap—"

"Hear me out. Fury needs to see for himself that Bruce isn't everything Locklear painted him as. And I think it'd do Bruce good to—"

"To what, punch Fury in the face? Yeah, you're right—"

"No, Stark, to face down what happened to him." He added, voice lower, "Thor says that's what Loki was trying to do, but I think it might go better if he, uh—"

"Wasn't in the middle of a giant, epic battle? Or kidnapped?" Tony mused aloud. He could see where Steve was coming from—and he couldn't wait to hear the details of Loki's 'master plan,'—but he didn't know if this was something they should force. Bruce seemed to be making great progress on his own, and Tony wasn't sure if getting in the middle of that would do more harm or good for the physicist. "I'll talk to him about it, how's that?"

"All I'm asking," Steve said. "Eight AM tomorrow, SHIELD."

"Sure," Tony agreed. "But what if Fury doesn't relent?"

And Steve sounded decidedly leader-ly when he answered, "I don't really think between the six of us that's going to be a problem. We'll manage."

"Ah, that's the Captain we know and love. Send my love to the rest of the team, darling. You heading back to the Tower tonight?"

"Yeah, except Thor. He's on guard duty, trying to arrange transport for Loki. Not sure how that works, but if he says he can do it—"

"Then he can," Tony confirmed. "All right, see you in the morning. Maybe."

He ended the call before Steve could answer, and sat up, casting a pensive look at Bruce's sleeping form. Then, deciding he'd rather run this by Bruce now rather than first thing in the morning (because he personally hated dealing with surprises in the morning) he picked up an empty water bottle and lobbed it at Bruce's bed.

It bounced off Bruce's forehead and a moment later the physicist's irritated voice mumbled, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Waking you up," Tony answered cheerfully. "We need to talk."

Those words hold dread for just about every person in the world, and Bruce was no exception. He sat up quickly, running a hand through his hair. "What is it? Do we need to move? I can—"

Tony raised what he hoped was a calming hand. "Chill out, dude. Let me explain."

He quickly launched into a recap of the conversation he'd just had with Steve. When he got to the part about how Fury hadn't known the specifics of what Locklear was up to, the look on Bruce's face prompted him to stop and ask, "You okay?"

Bruce nodded tersely. "Yeah. Fine. It's just...I hope reading those files is really enlightening for him."

Tony admired his restraint. If their positions were reversed, Tony was reasonably sure he'd be yelling. He offered a cautious, "I'm sure it will be."

"I mean," Bruce went on, as if Tony hadn't spoken, "He must have been so damn surprised that so many people were angry enough with SHIELD to join up with Loki. I bet he was just floored." Volume increasing, rapidly approaching rant-levels, Bruce continued, "Of course he couldn't see it, that they were just reaping what they sowed. Getting exactly what they deserved. He must have felt so persecuted. So of course he was going to be a dick about it!"

The anger, Tony thought, was entirely justified, and it was good to see Bruce actually feeling it and not running from it. Fury had fucked up. SHIELD had fucked up. A whole lot of people had fucked up, and Bruce had been on the receiving end of all of it. And he was finally pissed off about it. So Tony threw out supportively, egging him on a little, "It's just cause and effect, isn't it?"

"Yes!" Bruce exclaimed, practically leaping off his bed. "Exactly! But he didn't know that! He just thought that—" he stopped abruptly, looking surprised that he was standing. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, sitting down again. Much more calmly, he concluded, "He just thought that they were all bad people, doing what they did because they were bad. And I'm not defending them—they were bad people. But it's not that simple."

Tony shook his head. "Maybe not." Then, seeing as Bruce's outpouring appeared to be done, Tony leaned back against his pillows and stated casually, "Steve and the others are finishing up the meeting tomorrow morning, after Fury's had a chance to look into that stuff. They want us to come with them."

Bruce started to object (probably on exactly the same grounds Tony had when Steve had told him the plan) so before he could get too far, Tony added, "I think we should."

Stunned into silence, Bruce cocked his head to one side, and Tony explained, "Look, it'll show that we're not afraid, we're going to stand up for ourselves."

For another moment, Bruce didn't speak. Tony worried that he'd been too pushy—though he felt he hadn't pushed at all—or that this was something that, despite his progress, Bruce was still unable or unwilling to do.

So he was surprised when, after several beats of silence, Bruce nodded once, authoritatively. "Yeah. You're right. I need to do this. I'm...not going to live the rest of my life afraid of what they might do to me." He chuckled darkly. "I know what they can do to me. And what they did...it didn't help." He looked Tony in the eyes and finished, "I'm not going back there. And I'm not taking their drug. I might always be dangerous, but there has to be a better way. I'm not...I made a mistake. I've made a lot of them. But I didn't deserve what they did." He stopped, then added softly, "Right?"

Inside, Tony was cheering. Because this was what he'd been trying to get Bruce to realize for the entirety of their relationship. Everyone fucked up. Everyone made mistakes that haunted them for the rest of their lives. That didn't mean that they deserved to be abused, treated like an animal. Worse than an animal. Outwardly, though, all he said was, "Yeah, you're right. You gonna tell Fury that?"

After a short pause, Bruce nodded again. He asked, "What if, um, Fury doesn't want to hear that?"

Tony flopped over on his side, getting comfortable, eminently satisfied with how today had ended. "There's always Mexico. Now go to sleep. Big day tomorrow and all." One way or another—whether Bruce would be able to stand up for himself or not (and Tony hoped he would)—shit was going to go down.

"I was asleep, Tony," Bruce pointed out.

Tony waved him off. "Quiet. I saved the world today or something, I'm tired."

A small, irritated sigh was Bruce's only response.

Bruce managed to sleep through most of the night. He knew he was exhausted, but given the amount of stress and apprehension he had about his morning meeting, he was still surprised by how well he'd slept.

When he woke up at 6:00 AM, Tony was quizzically poking at the coffee pot by the sink outside the bathroom. Seeing Bruce was awake, he announced in a loud mumble, "I don't believe this machine actually produces coffee."

Sighing, Bruce pulled himself out of bed and crossed the room. After a moment's puzzling, he managed to get the pot brewing. He informed Tony, "You're hopeless. You'd better hope today goes okay, because I can't imagine you trying to take care of yourself in a third-world country."

Tony was too busy watching the coffee drip into the pot to respond beyond an offended huff.

Deciding Tony was probably not going to be up for conversation until he'd had at least a cup, Bruce made his way towards the bathroom. He paused to ask over his shoulder, "Do I have clothes, or am I going to SHIELD in these pajamas?" As fashionable as they were, he didn't think they came off as particularly authoritative.

Tony made a vague gesture towards a mystery suitcase in the corner and Bruce sighed but wandered over to it and undid the latch. He found what he recognized as his own clothing on top and pulled it out, heading once again for the shower.

He stayed in long enough that the residual muscle aches from his last transformation had faded to a dull throb before shutting off the water.

As he dried off and got dressed in the closet of a bathroom, he couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the right thing. The conviction he'd felt last night, half-asleep and angry at Fury's mistakes, had faded somewhat with sleep and distance. He still felt angry, and he still thought that SHIELD could shove off, but he wasn't sure that rubbing it in their face was really the best way to go. Added to that...even though he felt he was in the right, he just couldn't know for sure. Probably never would, at least, not until he learned to trust himself again. So he really, really didn't want to walk into SHIELD, to face them head on, not with how uncertain he still was.

But, he rationalized, You need to face this. You need to get it out of the way. Tony's right. Show them you're not afraid, that you're not going to let them—

His mind tried to avoid the thought, but he forced himself to continue.

—torture you anymore. They can't without your permission, you know that, so don't give it to them. Trust yourself.

Bruce's little pep-talk was interrupted by Tony pounding on the door and yelling, "Come on, Princess, some of us have a beauty routine here!"

Instead of pointing out that he wasn't the princess with the beauty routine, Bruce opened the door, still toweling off his hair. "Sorry, Tony."

Tony brushed past him. "Whatever."

It occurred to Bruce that maybe Tony was feeling nervous, too, although it was hard to imagine Tony ever being nervous about anything. More likely, he was just cranky because it was absurdly early and all he'd had to drink was crappy motel coffee.

Faster than he thought possible (and faster than Bruce really would have liked), Tony was ready to go. Looking in a mirror and trying to fix his goatee, he said, "I called Steve while you were in the shower, the whole team's going to swing by and pick us up. Well, except Thor." He nodded at the briefcase next to the suitcase on the floor. "Unless you'd prefer the damsel-in-distress express?"

Bruce felt that the only way he'd ever willingly travel via Tony's suit was if he was unconscious. So he shook his head. "No, car's fine with me."

Tony smirked. "Figured."

"If you flew us here from Loki's compound," Bruce asked cautiously as something occurred to him, "Where did the suitcase of clothes come from?"

With a grimace, Tony answered, "I owe Pepper one hell of a favor. Again. She's always so fussy when I'm on the run from the law..."

Bruce didn't answer that (the relationship between those two was something he was probably never going to understand), and a moment later, there was a knock on the door. Bruce answered it.

Clint was standing outside, sunglasses firmly in place, looking far more cool and collected than Bruce felt was possible for this occasion. He gestured over his shoulder and said, "Nat's parked over there, wouldn't want to keep her waiting." He leaned in and confided, "She's a little testy this morning."

"She's a little testy every morning," Tony said, breezing past, briefcase in hand. Bruce picked up the suitcase and followed suit, knots in his stomach that he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

Clint shut the door behind them, then said to Bruce, "Nervous?"

"Does it show?" Bruce asked, flattening a non-existent wrinkle in his shirt and running a hand through his hair.

"Nope," Clint answered with a ghost of a smirk, shoving his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. "Not at all."

The three of them made their way over to the SUV parked at the edge of the lot, and even though it was a tight squeeze, the five of them managed to fit in. As soon as they were settled, Steve (who was in the passenger's seat) began to give a rundown of the previous day's meeting and what sorts of things they could expect today.

Bruce tried to pay attention, but he was too nervous, and consequently spent the entire ride monitoring his own vital signs for any sign of danger. He felt tense, but there wasn't even a rumble from the Other Guy.

Not even when they pulled into the parking lot at SHIELD.

That's because you can control this. You know you can.

There was doubt, of course—he wondered if there ever wouldn't be—but Bruce rationalized that if he could handle Loki manhandling him and throwing him down a flight of stairs, he could probably manage a meeting.

Probably.

Natasha turned off the car and looked behind her. "You guys ready for this?"

Tony answered exuberantly, "Sure am. Look, it can't be that bad, right? If Fury was going to murder us in our sleep or something, he's had plenty of opportunities."

Bruce found his optimism a little jarring, but he answered evenly, "Let's just get this over with."

"Couldn't have said it better myself, doc," Steve said, opening his door.

The looks they got as they made their way up to Fury's office were cold. Once or twice, Bruce thought he saw people going for their cell phones, but no alarms started to blare, and he took that as a good sign.

They picked Thor up about halfway through the building, and as they walked, he told them about the current plans for Loki's transport and containment. Again, Bruce tried to focus on the conversation but ultimately couldn't. What was Loki, really, when he was about to face down the government? He might take Loki over that any day...

When they got to Fury's office, they strode through the outer office and, with a cursory look at Fury's receptionist (who just stared back, open-mouthed, hand on the receiver of her phone), Steve knocked on the door to Fury's office.

The receptionist tried to choke something out—it sounded like 'Wait'—but Steve just ignored her and threw open the office door and went in.

The others followed.

Fury was standing with his back to them in the middle of the room and, displayed on several screens around him, were the shadowy faces of the World Security Council.

Bruce felt his stomach clench. The nerves he'd been feeling all morning spiked. And suddenly, he was angry, too. Because here were the people who had known what was going on with his 'treatment,' the people who had maybe even developed the whole thing. The real 'bad guys' who had, in one way or another, been the fuel on the fire of Loki's crusade. The ones who had been behind it, really, but would never, ever have to answer for anything.

As they entered, the conversation went silent, and Fury turned around calmly and looked at them. Evenly, he said, "Good morning. I was just discussing some finer points of the files I read last night with the Council." He looked over his shoulder. "They assure me that everything they did was entirely ethical and necessary." Fury looked at each of the Avengers in turn before focusing on Bruce. "I'm not sure I agree."

Bruce swallowed, the phrase 'entirely ethical and necessary' echoing in his mind.

He could feel the eyes of the others on him, the eyes of Fury and the Council, too, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Everything he'd meant to say had vanished, lost somewhere between his burgeoning anger and shock.

One of the woman on the screens spoke up, "You see, Fury? That monster has no shame, no care for the safety of anyone else. It is parading around like—"

Tony spoke up, "Wow, uh, don't know who you are, but you probably want to shut the hell up—"

Bruce interrupted him, finally having gathered his wits. That woman's words had punched him in the gut, had reminded him exactly what he wanted to say, and he spat out, "I'm not a monster."

He paused, surprised he had spoken. No one else said anything, apparently similarly stunned. So, this bad idea finally underway, he decided he might as well add, "And I'm not going to let you treat me like one." Gaining steam, he threw out, "And if you think you are—"

Fury flicked his wrist, somehow turning the screens off. Bruce turned to him instead, snarling, "What the hell—"

Fury frowned. "Dr. Banner, those are not people you want to threaten."

The honorific caught his attention. Not many people referred to him as 'Dr. Banner' these days, especially those affiliated with SHIELD. Diverted from his rant, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting backwards from ten silently.

As he did that, Steve spoke up, "Are we to understand that we're seeing eye-to-eye on this issue now, director?"

Tony butted in, "Because we damn well better be, and that 'I'm not sure I agree' schtick is bullshit—"

Natasha quieted him with an elbow to the side, which gave Bruce an opening. He took it. "Director, I will not—"

Fury interrupted him. "Look. I want this to go away." He looked from Bruce to Tony, to Steve before settling back on Bruce. "You have no idea how much I want that. This shit with Loki has been a disaster, and we're still under investigation from the shit he—" he gestured at Tony, "—pulled. That's not going to go away, so if this can, I would love it."

That silenced all of the Avengers.

Fury nodded at Thor. "You've assured me that your brother will be out of our hair soon. We can close the book on him and his plans."

Thor agreed, "Yes, that is so."

Fury went on, moving to sit behind his desk. "We've contained most of his damn allies. Which clears up almost all of this problem. Except you, Banner." He nodded towards Tony. "And you, of course."

Bruce swallowed again, nervously. He had a feeling that he knew what Fury was going to say, but he was still on edge. Still apprehensive.

"Regarding your treatment, the Council did what they thought was necessary—"

Here, Tony couldn't resist interjecting. "Oh, yeah, right, that's exactly what—"

Fury spoke over him, "And they may or may not have been correct in what they did."

Bruce saw red, then, but he also understood. Really understood. He wasn't going to get an apology. Fury wasn't going to admit he'd been wrong, that the Council had been wrong. Bruce might know it, now, but he'd never actually hear the words spoken. Because that's not how these organizations worked. They weren't held accountable, never would be.

"The Council," Fury continued into the tense silence, "Feels that you need to be contained, preferably in their facility and on their medication. They think that Stark belongs in jail for endangering all of humanity or some shit." He shuffled some papers on his desk, then stated unequivocally, "I have told them that is not going to happen."

"What, and that just flew?" Natasha asked, skeptical.

Fury shook his head. "No. But I explained to them that you assholes are a threat to my organization, and consequently, to them. I let them know that if my organization was exposed in a negative manner, I would not hesitate to expose them as well. They were...not pleased."

Bruce understood that to be the understatement of the year.

"But they are unwilling to risk losing their position in the world, when it comes down to it. And so they've come to agree with me."

The air quotes are 'agree' were almost audible.

"This is how we're going to proceed." Fury looked at Tony. "First, Stark. I never want to see you again. And stop hacking my servers, for Christ's sake."

Tony positively bounced on the balls of his feet, an impressive feat considering how much the briefcase in his hand had to weigh. "Works for me. But you might want to get better security—"

"Second, Banner. You're free to go. As far as I—and the Council—are concerned, this shit never happened. So maybe try not to do anything to remind us that it did."

For a moment, Bruce felt elated. This was what he'd wanted. His freedom. But then the director's words sunk in fully. This really was just going to go away. It had never happened. They were never going to admit they were wrong, they were never going to apologize, and they were never going to offer him anything for what they'd taken from him. No reparations of any kind. They'd taken nine months of his life from him, and all he was going to get in return was the 'incident' erased from the record.

Plus, that threat at the end...vague, but definitely there. Definitely letting him know that his freedom was conditional. Depended on SHIELD's good will.

That stung.

Would that be enough? Just his freedom? Conditional, yes, but otherwise complete.

Bruce thought about it for a good five seconds, before he answered with a terse, "Fine." Because this was what he'd wanted. A chance to live his life again.

Fury considered him for a moment before he spoke. "Good. Then all previous contracts and agreements regarding Dr. Banner are now void."

"Can you just do that?" Clint interjected, looking disbelieving.

"Not quite," Fury amended. "The lawyers will have to work something out. But they will be void."

"I want that in writing," Tony demanded.

With a beleaguered sigh, Fury lifted a document off his desk and offered it up. "Done."

Tony snatched it and scanned it quickly. "Fine. We done here?"

"Are we?" Fury asked, looking at Bruce.

Bruce bit his bottom lip. Now would be the time to demand the apology, demand that all his grievances be righted. But he wasn't going to do it. He knew that, really. He'd gotten what he wanted, more than he still kind of thought he deserved, so he'd take it.

"Yeah," he affirmed. "We're done."

It took two weeks for it to become official. SHIELD had to clean up after Loki, had to process all of their new-slash-old detainees under the watchful eyes of the court. Loki himself had to be taken care of. But two weeks after the meeting with Fury, Bruce found himself in court again.

This time, he was not drugged. This time, he followed the proceedings intently. And this time, he left as a completely free man.

At least, as much as he ever could be free, between knowing that the ever-present eyes of SHIELD and the Council were on him and the shackles of his own creation.

The Other Guy, namely. He was still there, of course, lurking beneath the surface. Bruce was finally beginning to accept that he always would be. That he'd always have the potential to be a monster.

But then, what human didn't?

It wasn't that simple, of course, and Bruce knew that he would always have to be careful, tread with caution, but now he knew that he could control it, that he could live with it.

It was more than he'd ever had before.

So he settled into life at Stark Tower. He ran his experiments, still looking cursorily for a cure—something he just couldn't give up, something he probably never would. He helped Tony when the billionaire needed him (and sometimes when he didn't—pestering Tony was fun), and spent his free time enjoying the most calm, peaceful existence he'd had since before his accident.

It was strange, living so normally. More strange was the belief that was actually where he belonged.

He'd spent so long trying to protect other people from himself, trying to keep himself under control, being always on guard for the slightest threat to his equilibrium and willing to do anything—anything—to keep everyone around him safe. It had been all he'd known for years, but now...now he was finally coming to place where he could see that he didn't need to. Didn't need to hate himself, didn't need to fight against himself, didn't need to beat himself down because he 'deserved' it.

It was a hard idea to get used to, and one that Bruce knew was going to take time, and practice. Learning to trust himself, learning that he could...that was hard. And he suspected that some parts of himself—those ugly parts that had dictated his life for so long—would never be completely gone.

Maybe that was okay.

Part of him worried that nothing good lasts forever, and part of him was always worried about his next 'incident,' but his friends assured him that he, and they, could handle that if and when they had to.

Bruce hoped they'd never have to.

But if they did...that would be okay, too. Because he wasn't a monster, a freak. He wasn't dangerous. Or...maybe he was. But he wasn't only those things. He was more than the Other Guy, more than a mistake he'd made, once upon a time.

He knew that, now.

End

Thanks to everyone who's read this, and Just a Tool. You're all the best!

I'm not going to say a third story in the series is completely out of the question, but for the moment, I don't intend for there to be one. Bruce is about where I want him, and I'm pretty satisfied with that. Still, the second I say definitively that there won't be another one, there will be, so…

Thanks again for sticking around, for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting, and to quote the Beatles, I hope that you've enjoyed the show.

Oh, and one more plea for reviews, of course. Please?