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Bruce couldn't go back. He couldn't be an Avenger anymore after that. After what the Other Guy had done. Even the Other Guy understood that. Somehow, the he had given Bruce back control so he could land the quinjet. They had been in sync, at the end of the battle, like when he caught Iron Man falling out of the sky…
No. Don't think about it. Stop.
Bruce forced himself to look at the instruments again, the screen. Where was he? Pacific Ocean. A small, uninhabited island. In the cloaked jet. Tony's jet. No signs of inhabitants or military or anyone in the vicinity looking for him. No one should be able to find him for a while.
It was all back to this - him, alone and having to run. He had had something, for a while. A team. Almost like a family. Tony.
Stop it! That's not going to help anything now. Tony was better off without him. They all were.
He had to take some time to think, to plan what he was going to do. But he couldn't think right now. He was too tired. The battles always wore him out, but this, this was beyond anything he'd ever felt. Maybe it was just the despair weighing him down.
Bruce found a blanket and crawled into a ball in the corner of the ship, his back against the hull. He was cold, wearing only the pants that Tony had made him for when he "Hulked out". So Bruce wouldn't end up who knows where without a stitch of clothing on. One of the many things Tony had done for them. For all of them.
But what the hell had happened? A lot of things were fuzzy. Not just the time he was the Other Guy. Things started floating back to him in his half-sleep. And every memory broke his heart a little bit more.
The Witch had pulled out all of their greatest fears. Bruce's mind had gone back to all the things he'd wanted, once. A home, a family. He'd thought he could have that with Betty. And his mind - still under the Witch's influence - they had all been, he realized, much longer than they thought. His mind had confused Betty with Natasha - had reached out for something he wanted.
For the things he already had. With Tony.
And Tony - god, Tony had been so cold, had seemed to turn back into the person he used to be. Not listening to anyone, just following his own instincts. But Bruce had followed him anyway. Because Bruce would do anything for Tony. He would follow Tony anywhere.
He couldn't - couldn't - think about Tony now. Tony, who'd lost Jarvis - lost his oldest friend and companion, aside from Rhodey. The pain in Tony's voice when Tony described what he'd seen - why he'd made the horrible decision to activate Ultron - everyone dead - broken and bleeding - because of him. Tony who'd screwed up again just because he wanted to protect the world. Put a suit of armor around the world.
Oh, Tony…
Bruce curled up even tighter and tried to force the thoughts out of his head. Eventually he drifted off into darkness.
* * *
He could do this. He could! He had so much experience in packing up a few things and leaving a place. But now he had gotten used to having people, having stuff, and he was distracted with figuring out how much equipment he could take with him, trying to decide what could be traceable - most of Tony's tech wasn't. He knew he should leave it all behind, but he couldn't. Couldn't let go of the last reminders of Tony.
It was morning, dawn just breaking. He'd found some extra clothes that Tony always made sure were stored on the jet for him, and some supplies. He was sitting in the cockpit, staring down at a Starkphone, trying to find the strength to leave it behind, when he heard a noise.
A knock. A soft knocking on the hatch. His heart jumping in his chest, pushing down the Other Guy as hard as he could, he checked the monitors.
Tony.
Tony was standing outside the jet, in jeans and a strange t-shirt, the suitcase containing his latest suit beside him, knocking on the hatch. Knocking where he knew the hatch to be, because it couldn't be seen. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, of course. Bruce had no way to read what he was thinking.
He must have cloaked his arrival in the suit. Damn it. Damn it! Bruce had to be more careful than that.
"Please, Bruce. Please let me in."
Bruce opened the hatch, but moved backwards, curling in on himself. Who knew what Tony would say to him now?
Tony stepped slowly into the quinjet, placing the suitcase softly down on the floor.
"How did you-?"
"It's my tech. You think I can't find it? Just took a little longer than I'd hoped." His voice was pained.
Was this why Bruce hadn't left the jet right away? Had some small part of him been hoping that Tony would find him? At least to say goodbye? Was he here to say goodbye?
"Are you ok?"
Bruce laughed, a harsh, echoing sound. "I'm fine. You know the Other Guy makes sure I'm always fine." But he crossed his arms as if protecting himself.
Tony pulled of his sunglasses and threw them to the floor. He looked up at Bruce and Bruce's heart almost stopped at the pain and longing he saw there.
Then Tony was running to him, running, and the words were flowing out of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry. I wasn't me - the - Maximoff kid - the girl - it didn't wear off right away like we thought. It wasn't me. I wasn't ME." His voice was desperate and pleading. Bruce hadn't expected that.
"I know. I know. Me either. You can't think it was real, me and Natasha…" Bruce reached out and tentatively touched Tony's arm, still not believing Tony was there.
At his touch, Tony lost all control. He threw himself at Bruce, pushing Bruce back against the hull and kissing him.
Kissing him.
Lips hungry and demanding and searching. And between their lips, Bruce tasted tears, but didn't know if they were his or Tony's.