This was a co-write with a friend of mine, MissSampo. She's a fantastic writer and it was incredibly fun to write this with her. We wrote separate sections, I started out, so every other section is hers. This was inspired by a picture she sent me; I don't know who the original artist is, so credit goes to them. The photo is the story cover.

"It's going to happen again" Bruce whispered. "And again and again" he could feel the weight of the gun in his hand but he avoided looking at it. He didn't want to die, not really. But he didn't want to hurt anyone else either. It would be better for everyone if he just went away. His friend Tony would disagree would tell him to accept the other guy and keep working. He wasn't as strong as Tony. He couldn't control himself, but this he could control.

The Hulk was quiet, for now. Once his heart picked up, even a little bit, he would notice the gun. And it would happen again. An endless cycle. Unless Bruce could control this one, final moment. To prove that he could die a man, even if half his life was a beast. - Tony walked down the hall, whistling to himself and repeating the data numbers in his head. They all added up, just like he knew they would. Once this experiment was complete, maybe he could convince Bruce to go out for pizza with him and Pepper.

"Better locate that mystery girl of Bruce's too... Man is he going to-" His words caught in his throat as he opened Bruce's door. He was sitting in the dark, taking deep, measured breaths. Holding a gun. Tony couldn't move. Couldn't speak. He could barely breathe. He even swore that his heart stopped for a split second under the arc reactor. Hearing him talk about his low point was one thing. Seeing his best friend holding a gun was nothing short of nightmarish. "Bruce..."

Bruce felt more than heard Tony behind him. He released a shuttering breath but didn't look at his friend. He knew how he must look to the flamboyant genius. He'd seen the dark ghosts in his eyes every time he looked in the mirror. So he'd stopped looking.

"Go away" he whispered hoarsely, hating how his voice sounded in the small room. "Bruce, what the hell is going on?" Tony asked in a small almost scared voice, conveying an emotion Bruce would have never imagined hearing. "I can't do this anymore." He said, grip tightening on the gun.

"Do what? Live in Stark Towers with me? Help me out with experiments? What can't you do? I'll fix it!" "I can't stand the other guy anymore! I can't stand myself!" Bruce's voice was rising, and his gun hand was shaking. His heartbeat monitor started to beep, alerting him of his heightening levels of stress. His chest heaved as he forced in air, calming his heart ever so slightly.

"You can't fix me Tony... Nobody can..." Tony snorted, leaning against the door.

"Like hell. I'm Tony Stark. I can fix anything. And you're Bruce Banner. You can fix anyone. So put the gun down. We have an experiment to finish." Bruce looked up at the playboy, hopelessness in his eyes and weighing down his features. Even his shoulders stooped with pain.

"Tony. You saw what I could do. What I can do. What I WILL do over and over again... I am not... Safe. For anyone. Or anything." The look in Tony's eyes made Bruce glance away. His hand tightened on the gun, and Tony took a step into the room. "Bruce. Don't... Please."

"Stop!" Bruce shouted "Don't come any closer." He could feel his throat closing. But Tony stopped, raising his hands in surrender.

"Bruce, listen to me. I don't care what you think, because whatever is going through your head right now is stupid and not worth dying for." Bruce shook his head,

"You don't understand. You don't have a...a thing living inside of you. Clawing at your mind, wanting to get out, always to get out." He raised the gun and tapped the barrel against his temple as if pointing out what he was talking about. Tony flinched, heart skipping a beat. But Bruce put the gun back down and returned to staring into the dark. Slowly Tony took a step forward and when Bruce didn't react he took a few more.

Slowly, but surely, Tony inched his way toward his friend. He slowly stretched out his hand, wary. Not the kind of wary you get around a stray dog or a grumpy cat ready to scratch. The wary you get around a deer in the woods, or a bird perched on a fence. Wanting to get closer, but worried about frightening off your target. His fingertips brushed over Bruce's salt and pepper curls, and settled themselves on his shoulder.

"Bruce. You pull that trigger, you hurt everyone more than the other guy ever could. You'll be hurting the team. You'll be hurting your mystery girl that you had to leave behind. You-" His voice cracked and Tony found himself starting to choke. "You'll be hurting me most of all." Throughout his speech, Tony had carefully lowered himself onto the bed, right next to Bruce.

Bruce's gaze slowly lifted to Tony's, eyes red and puffy with unshed tears.

"I don't want to become that guy ever again." He whispered.

"I know" Tony said quietly. Slowly he laid a hand over Bruce's, fingers slipping around the barrel of the gun. With a gentle pull it left Bruce's slack grip. Both men slumped a little, the tension in the room lessening slightly. With a deft motion Tony ejected the clip and stashed it in his pants pocket. After a moment's hesitation he slipped an arm around the shorter man's shoulders and gave him a one armed hug.

"You're an asshole you know." He said in a more jovial tone. Bruce snorted a mirthless laugh and nodded.

"Sorry."

"You scared the shit out of me." Tony said, the words tight in his throat. "Don't...don't ever do that again."

Bruce nodded again, exhaling deeply. He felt...Lighter. He could do this. Tony would be here. He could get through this. Bruce looked over at his friend, his vision blurring and his eyes burning. "Tony..." He managed to choke out. "Thank you..." And with that, Bruce Banner let himself cry.

Bruce will be okay, seems like Tony is a better therapist then Mr. Banner. Thanks to all who read this!