Title: I have been where you are before (and I have felt the pain of losing who you are)

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AU before Avengers; references, of course, to violence/abuse/torture, and also child abuse; possibly AUish for Bruce and the Hulk's relationship? I dunno.

Pairings: past Betty/Bruce, possibly pre-Bruce/ex-Winter Soldier

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1835

Point of view: third
Prompt: MCU, Bruce Banner (and Hulk) + or / any, the Hulk is not often calm enough to cuddle, but when he is, the cuddling is epic.

He finds the guy in an abandoned shack in Cambodia, toting enough weapons it makes the Other Guy sit up and take notice, but they can both tell the guy's barely alive. "Shit," Bruce says. The Other Guy fades back as Bruce begins assessing the stranger: he's hurt too bad for Bruce to handle and the closest medical care is days away, but at the least the guy doesn't have to be alone while he dies.

.

The guy doesn't die. In half a dozen languages (most of them, Bruce can muddle through), he calls for someone named Steve, apologizes so fervently it hurts Bruce's heart, begs for mercy – but he doesn't die. Bruce strips the armor from him, pausing for only a minute at the metal arm and the truly horrific scarring, bathes him, tries to pour broth down his throat, and the guy still doesn't die. The multiple wounds on his abdomen should've killed him days ago, way before Bruce found him, but instead Bruce watches as they heal. He flushes the wounds as best he can, bathes the guy again, pours more broth down his throat, and the fourth day, the Other Guy alerts him that multiple armed someones are approaching.

They've come to a little truce, him and the Other Guy. Anyone Bruce helps is off limits, no matter how mad the Other Guy is. Hospitals and schools, the Other Guy will not go near. Anyone who is obviously just defending themselves is to be left alone.

Bruce peers out of the shack. He has no idea if whoever these people are after is him or the wounded stranger, but. Well.

It doesn't really matter, does it?

.

Once it's done and the survivors have fled, the Other Guy pulls back so that Bruce can stumble into the shack and collapse beside the stranger. He has no idea how long he sleeps, but he wakes up to the stranger looking at him with wide, wary eyes.

"Hi," he says in English because it's still his default, despite everything. "You're okay, then."

The stranger blinks. Bruce sits up slowly, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders, arching his back. The Other Guy notes that all seems quiet.

"We should probably find somewhere else to be," Bruce says, still in English, "because whoever they were, they'll probably be back with reinforcements."

"… they?" the stranger says, also in English. Well, that's good, then. The guy's voice is soft and hoarse when he's conscious.

"They," Bruce agrees. "The goons outside."

Everything in the stranger's body tightens, so Bruce quickly continues with, "I took care of them, I promise. But more will come. So after I get dressed, can I look at your injuries again before we take off?"

The stranger just stares at him. Bruce waits patiently. He wasn't always patient but the Other Guy made learning it a priority.

"Yes?" the stranger finally says.

"Good," Bruce says. He stands up slowly and pulls on his pants and shirt before crouching back beside the stranger. "I'm Bruce, by the way. What can I call you?"

The stranger blinks at him again, holding rock-still as Bruce examines the flesh that's knit itself back together without even a scar.

… so how'd he get those scars on the left side of his torso? Bruce quickly pulls himself away from that thought just in case.

"You're all healed up," he says instead, ignoring that the guy still hasn't given a name. "Now, you don't have to come with me, but you should probably make yourself scarce. I don't know if they were after you or me, but considering the condition I found you in, better to be safe than sorry." He packs up his kit, offers the guy a granola bar (he doesn't take it), checks in with the Other Guy (all clear), and then looks outside the shack.

The bodies are still there. Haven't even been touched by scavengers, but animals tend to avoid Bruce these days. It makes the Other Guy a little sad sometimes, but Bruce is grateful.

"You… tended my wounds," the guy says. When Bruce looks back at him, he's on his feet, hands in plain view. Bruce hadn't even heard him move.

"Yeah," Bruce replies. "Sure you don't want food?"

The guy looks bewildered. "You will let me go?"

"Yeah," Bruce repeats. "By the way, your clothes are in that corner." He nods.

The guy turns his head to follow. "I do not hurt," he says softly, maybe so softly Bruce shouldn't have heard it, but his senses have been better since the Other Guy. As the guy moves toward his clothes, Bruce looks back out into the trees, fists clenching. The Other Guy pipes up, but Bruce assures him he isn't needed, now.

Whoever this guy is, it's entirely possibly he deserved the situation Bruce found him in. Bruce has no idea. Bruce watches out the corner of his eye as the guy pulls on bloodstained and torn clothing, then carefully skirts the wall to make his way to the entrance, where Bruce is still standing. The guy's body language is –

Bruce remembers moving like that, standing like that. He takes a deep breath, holds it, breathes out the anger.

"I… do not want to go back," the guy says. "They will keep – " He bites off the words. Looks at the bodies on the grass. "You did that?" he asks, sounding impressed.

"Kinda," Bruce says. "Listen, if you don't wanna go back, stay with me. I can protect you." The guy glances at him for a moment before dropping his gaze. Bruce adds, "All you gotta do is help me find supplies and stand watch while I help whoever I can."

"Like you did me," the guy murmurs.

"Just like that," Bruce agrees.

.

So, they stick together. The guy never gives him a name to use so Bruce decides to keep his mind sharp by choosing a different name alphabetically every morning. The guy answers to all of them.

Bruce decides he's either black-ops (well, was) or a hitman deciding to go straight, and whoever he worked for didn't take too well to that. Possibly a mutant, due to the healing. Or maybe an experimental procedure? Bruce has never been the most talkative guy, but he chatters on at Michael (today) about anything that crosses his mind because Robert (today) seems to like it. Sometimes, he even responds, in the small pauses Bruce leaves just to see if he will.

The animals that avoid Bruce seem to like Adam (today) because while Bruce is tending to whoever needs it in the various villages, strays of all kinds wander up to Fabio (today) and beg for attention. Donkeys, goats, dogs, cats, whatever. Nick (today) always seems bewildered before he reacts, but he also smiles. And wow, his smile. Betty would call it a heartthrob's smile. She'd really like Samson (today), Bruce thinks, a lot. The Other Guy agrees.

Bruce and the Other Guy notice that whoever is tracking them has picked up the pace: three attempts (including that first) in five months is – unusual. Even Ross doesn't try that often. Greg (today) hasn't explained if they're after him or Bruce, just picks them off with a sniper rifle or tears his way through whatever the Other Guy has left him.

The Other Guy likes him. He likes the Other Guy. It's… bizarre. The first time they met, according to Harry (that day), the Other Guy had shouted Behind me! and then ripped a STRIKE team apart. Bruce had asked enough questions to clarify that STRIKE means Special Tactical Reserve for International Key Emergencies, which is mildly terrifying, but he's pretty sure they must be after him. What could Zach (today) have done to warrant that?

But the Other Guy, according to Harry (that day), had listened to Harry after all of STRIKE were down. Harry had guided them away until the Other Guy retreated so that Bruce could come out. Bruce vaguely remembers being slung over Harry's shoulder and he woke up the next morning tucked in tight against Harry, with Harry on watch, gun in hand.

"He should have a name," Marco (today) says as they sneak into Laos.

"Who?" Bruce asks, glancing back.

Marco meets his eyes as he says, "The Other Guy."

Bruce just blinks in shock. Even the Other Guy seems surprised.

"Names are important," Marco continues, tilting his head just a bit defiantly.

"Yes, they are," Bruce agrees. The Other Guy seems… yearning. Holy shit. "What do you think would be a good name?" Bruce asks because he is at a complete loss. Has the Other Guy been wanting a name this whole time?

They walk on silently for a bit. As they're setting up for the evening, Marco says, "Roger." Bruce glances up from where he's unpacking the granola bars (what they'll have tonight) and Marco repeats, "Roger. Does he like that?"

The Other Guy is ecstatic. It's all Bruce can do to keep him in, so Bruce just nods. "Yeah," he finally says. "He likes that."

He wants to send a postcard to Betty, to tell her that someone else in the world thinks the O-Roger is a person, too. But he can't, knows Ross is waiting for some sign.

.

But after, Keith (today) begins opening up.

"I think I was a prisoner," he says one afternoon.

"I didn't want to," he confesses another day. "But I can't remember – it just hurt so much, so I did."

And, "I think they were lying. I never wanted – I fought, I know I fought."

And, "I escaped once, I think. It… it was bad, when they got me back."

And, "I think my mother – I had to have had a mother, right, Bruce? I think she called me James." He looks at Bruce over the very small campfire. "I want to be called James."

"Hi, James," Bruce says.

.

The fourth time they're attacked, Bruce doesn't bother trying to keep Roger from annihilating the enemy. He has, in the past – it always failed, but Bruce doesn't want to hurt people. He never has.

Today, he does. Because these people, they want to hurt James. Whether it's because he's been traveling with Bruce or because he's who they're after, to recapture, to chain down and wipe James away, to get their asset back—James talks in his sleep, now that he's comfortable enough to sleep in Bruce's presence. He talks in his sleep and he remembered his name five days ago.

And Bruce is fucking pissed about it.

.

Bruce comes to wrapped around James. A dozen bodies are scattered in pieces around them. "Holy shit," he mutters.

James laughs, tucking his head into Bruce's neck. "Roger promised I'd never go back," he murmurs into Bruce's skin.

"I promise that, too," Bruce says. "We should get a move on." They should. They rest curled together for another fifteen minutes before James rolls to his feet, pulling Bruce after him.