Fix You

The Avengers sat around the meeting table at the deck of the repaired SHIELD helicarrier. Fury was debriefing the team on the latest thwarted extraterrestrial attack. The target had been a children's hospital and clean up was proving to be messy with all the patients displaced and much of the hospital staff –doctors and nurses included- injured and unfit for work due to the staff's preoccupation with protecting the kids. Fortunately, no injury was life threatening and the children that were injured only sustained mild cuts and bruises.

While everyone else listened with genuine or –in Tony's case- faked interest, Bruce sat in his seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose and blinking hard repeatedly, trying to keep himself awake. The Hulk had taken out nearly half of the alien visitors, leaving Bruce even more exhausted than he usually was after transformations. Fury's words were floating around in his head, unable to be strung together into coherent sentences. There was something about cleaning up the city and taking care of the patients.

"You know, I don't Fury wouldn't mind… much if you sat out on debriefs," Tony whispered, leaning over.

"No thanks," Bruce said, rubbing his eyes. "I need to build up resistance."

"We'll need every medically-experienced person we've got," Fury was saying.

"Can someone get me an espresso? A cup," Bruce interrupted. "With some ice. Don't make it scalding hot." Everyone stared at him. Bruce highly suspected that Tony wanted to give him a high-five for interrupting the director. "Also a wet towel, something else to wear besides this t-shirt and sweatpants and a lot of chocolate." Fury continued to stare. Bruce stood up, bracing himself against the table. "You said you needed every person," he shrugged apologetically. "We'll need access to the medical files of each child and any medicine they need to be administered."

"Dr. Banner, you're exhausted," Steve protested.

"I think we should get him the espresso first," Tony interjected, swiveling around in his chair, "before he tears apart the plane again."

Fury's right eye scrutinized Bruce for a brief moment before he said to Steve, "Looks like Dr. Banner's in the driver's seat for this one, Captain."

There was a silence before Clint questioned, "Chocolate?"

Bruce stifled a yawn. "It's for the kids."

---

"You love him more than me! Admit it!" The shouts filled the entire house. China plates were smashed against countertops; the walls were vibrating from the sheer force of Brian Banner's fists. "That good-for-nothing little piece of-"

"Brian! Please, quiet down. He'll hear you!"

"Like he hasn't heard it before. He knows it! He's useless, he's an accident!"

"Brian, I love you both the same. We're family, aren't we? That's what we do!"

"I AM YOUR HUSBAND!" There was a loud slap, contact between skin and skin. Rebecca Banner whimpered silently. "Your duty is to me first, not your son."

A little boy sat on his bed in his room, trembling underneath he covers and clutching his pillow tight. He had been trying to block out his father's harsh yells and his mother's hopeless pleading. The argument had died down and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before Brian burst into his room, looking for him. He dreaded what came next.

The sound of footsteps approached the door and it was flung open, light from the hallway flooding into the dark room.

After his father had enough for the night, his mother came in, handing him a small Hershey's bar. "I have to brush my teeth though," he said. He didn't add the lingering thought of "Daddy'll be mad if I get up again."

"It'll be our secret," she whispered and smiled.

But that was years ago. He had learned to cope, to block it out. He pretended that it wasn't him. His daddy was just getting mad at someone else. He wasn't the freakish son. It wasn't like his mother or chocolate would remedy everything.

It wasn't good enough. Now his mother lay on the pavement, head smashed and blood gushing out. "What do you think you're doing?" Brian had hissed when he found them getting into the car in the dead of night –neighbors sleeping and oblivious. "Leaving? With him?"

The last words she heard were from her ten year old son, a pleading, "Daddy, no!"

---

Three shots of espresso, a wet towel soiled with grime and a new attire later, Bruce was holding a SHIELD-issued tablet and checking the medical files of the children by disease. "Do we have any physical injuries?" Bruce asked.

"All minor," Steve reported.

"Okay… Natasha and Clint, patch up anything that can be done with first aid. Tell the medics to do the same." The two agents nodded and headed off. Bruce tagged down a SHIELD agent. "Do we have paper files of this?" He held up the tablet and the agent nodded. "Can you get them for me? Steve, if you could follow her. We'll need to quantify any medicine we need to order, any painkillers, antibiotics, disease-specific medications. Also, ask if we can get a list of parent or guardian contact information. There're probably a lot of mothers worrying out there. Round up a few extra agents. Have them make calls."

"Yes, sir," Steve smiled, running off to follow the agent.

"And where's Thor?" Bruce asked, looking around.

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Chocolate."

"You want to send a demigod into a supermarket to buy chocolate? Have you seen the files yet? He'd probably knock the aisles down." Tony waved his hand into the air nonchalantly. "I think Fury called him in for something. Expertise on alien races? I don't know. You know… I can have like a plane full of chocolate sent here in 30 minutes."

"You do that," Bruce said, stifling another yawn.

"And what are you going to do?"

Bruce took his glasses off and rubbed his nose. "Be a doctor," he sighed.

There was a beat. "What about me?"

"Just don't… touch anything."

-----------

His medical file read "Dissociative identity disorder. Depression." It wasn't exactly a great resume builder. Employers –employers in high institutions- often eyed him suspiciously when he had to explain himself.

"I was on medication," he explained, smiling politely. "Both are obsolete."

It wasn't exactly true. He still had occasional moods and demeaning thoughts, but he didn't need the meds anymore. He didn't have to go to the psychiatric clinic for mental therapy. That had all cleared up in the middle of college. His father was locked up, left to rot. He was fine now and his medical history was more or less a small speed bump in the road. His glowing student career and intellect was enough to override any suspicions.

"Welcome to Culver University, Dr. Banner," sounded like sweet music to his ears.

As the years passed, he found that his mental health was improving steadily. Betty was an amazing collaborator and friend. Her father was a thorn at his side, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. The general was a little rough, but he took it as an olive branch when the military man asked if her daughter could collaborate with him on a new project.

Gamma rays. His field of expertise. "No one better to ask, son."

Son. He'd used the word son.

In the end, his hope and naivety got the better of him.

No other personality.

Right...

---

Tony watched as Steve came back in with the files in his hand and Bruce instructed him to calculate how much of each type of medicine they needed. An hour later, Natasha and Clint had finished with first aid.

"Steve, how's it going?" Bruce asked into the earpiece Fury had issued to the Avengers.

"A quarter left… I think," came the response. Tony resisted the urge to chuckle at Steve's uncertainty.

"I'm sending Natasha and Clint over," he said. "That okay?" He looked up at the two agents who nodded.

"It would make things faster," came Steve's reply as Natasha and Clint walked off.

"Well, this certainly is a change of character," Tony remarked, walking away from the corner and towards the doctor. Bruce was checking up on a girl who had been given a mild sedative. "I mean, I'd be expecting Captain Patriotism to be the one barking out the orders, but-"

"Your names for Steve are getting worse, Tony," Bruce quipped with a small smile, writing notes on a clipboard. "Espresso?" Tony handed Bruce the cup and he downed the rest of the contents in one go.

"Where does all of that go?" Tony asked, incredulous. Bruce set down the cup. "How are you not –you know- bouncing off the walls like a kid on Christmas?"

"Side effect, I think. Can't get drunk easily either."

"Wow, you really are turning into Rogers."

"You like him," Bruce smiled. "Admit it."

"You wound me, good sir." There was a small pause before Bruce hung the girl's patient clipboard back on the rack and moved onto the next patient, a young boy bald from chemotherapy and looking around fearfully.

"Hey, there," Bruce said, rubbing the child's arm in an attempt to soothe him. "I'm going to take some blood, okay? Like how the nurses usually do?"

"But where's Miss Dean?" the boy asked, anxiously. "One of the bad guys almost got her, I think."

"She got a bit sick, but she's going to be okay. I'm going to help you okay? Can you give me your arm? I won't hurt you. I promise." The boy nodded and held out his right arm where the heparin lock had been placed.

"Seriously though, why?" Tony interjected. "Fury could round up all the doctors in the world. You're like dead on your feet.."

"I'm seeing a patient, Tony. Pass me a syringe." Tony handed it over wordlessly and watched as Bruce withdrew a vial of blood.

"You're not going to turn into a sumo-wrestler version of Frankenstein's monster, are you? Can't say I'd be surprised though."

"You're irritating," sighed Bruce

"Your lack of creativity astounds me, as well as your observation skills. The blunt nature of your remark, however, intrigues me. Please. Continue." Bruce didn't reply. Instead he whispered a "take care" to the little boy.

"All right, I get it," huffed Tony. "Silent treatment. Two can play that game." Tony lost though, because after a minute, it seemed like Bruce was trying to wind him up or at least get him to leave. "You're very snappy when you're high on caffeine, did you know that?" Bruce was handing the vial to a medic.

"Monitor for leukemia," he said before dismissing the medic and turning back to Tony. "Everything you'll ever know is probably in my file, Tony," he sighed, "SHIELD has it all. Not like you haven't read it. Hacking into SHIELD is like your version of skydiving." He reached for the little boy's patient clipboard.

"Of course I read the file," Tony scoffed as Bruce finished writing. "I just want to hear it from you."

"Dr. Banner," Natasha's voice came over the Avenger com-link. "Tony's plane is here."

"Um, great," Bruce remarked, "Unload it, I guess. Open the boxes."

"I think Stark went a bit overboard," Steve commented.

"Time to play papa," Tony sighed. Bruce shot him a warning look.

---

The paper file is slid across the table, gliding to a stop in front of the two agents. "Dr. Bruce Banner," Nick Fury said.

Natasha opened the manila file folder. "The Ross file," she recalled immediately.

"The guy who just caused millions of dollars of damage to Harlem?" Clint asked. The two of them poured over the photographs and records. Clint whistled at the medical file. "That is one fucked up mind."

"Dr. Banner did have his share of mental issues resulting from an unstable childhood situation, but he's a scientific genius, Barton," Fury scolded. "He's not only one of the top physicists in the world, but adept in other fields of science. Have some respect."

"Dilettante," Natasha murmured as Clint asked, "What's this for boss?"

"SHIELD needs Banner."

"For what?" Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.

"The Avengers Initiative." The two agents gaped, Clint's mouth dropping open and Natasha's eyebrow arching up, undoubtedly figuring out ways to subtly give the director hell for even suggesting such a thing. "Mr. Stark has already been in contact with General Ross. The military has been forced to withdraw all claims and end all searches for Banner."

"Where is he now?" Clint asked.

"Intel traces him to a cottage in Bella Coola, Canada."

"We can't just recruit him to this, sir," Natasha said. "He's too volatile, too uncontrollable."

"The incident in Harlem has shown that he is capable of a degree of control. We will continue to monitor and evaluate him for the initiative." Fury started to walk out of the room. Before he stepped through the door, he stopped, turning around to face his top field agents. "Dr. Banner is an asset. Remember that."

---

It turned out that Tony hadn't just stopped at the chocolate. He'd ordered an assortment of candies and added crates of stuffed animals. "This," Natasha seethed, "is too much. Where are we going to put all this? Do you think, Tony?"

"I'm a genius," Tony replied smugly. "Now go about Arachne. Go mother the kids."

"That reference doesn't make any sense," Clint called out, defending Natasha.

Bruce chuckled, downing another cup of espresso. "You're gonna crash," Tony commented.

"Not for a couple of hours," Bruce argued nicely. A comfortable silence fell over them. "I do it for the kids," Bruce finally said. Tony turned, fixing the doctor with a bemused stare. "It's the same in Calcutta or in Jodphur, Jakarta, Bangkok, Dhaka… It's for the kids. They deserve a better childhood."

---

"He's in Calcutta right now," Fury relayed to Natasha over a secure phone line.

"That's quite a distance from British Columbia," she remarked.

"He's been all over South and Southeast Asia."

"Anything I can lure him in on?"

"He works as a medical doctor, taking care of the sick in the slums –mostly children. They're the most susceptible."

"The guy's got a soft spot," noted Natasha.

"You'll be fine with this?"

"Haven't got a choice sir. How many men can you get me?"

"There's a team flying there now and prepared for rendezvous. Try not to provoke him." With that, Fury hung up.

Natasha snapped the phone shut. "Kids…" she mused. "What goes around comes around."