Author's Note: So to be clear, this chapter covers post-Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2, and the end of this chapter is about to bring in another Marvel movie/some very familiar faces :)

I defy the stars;

I defy Heaven and Hell.

The laws of the universe say that the man I love is lost to me.

I say:

Watch me save him.

CHAPTER 1: the Law of Action

There are a few things that Betty Ross knows to be irrevocably true.

Fact: a body in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.

Fact: DNA is made up of adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine, and the same chemicals repeat themselves in all other things.

Fact: her father is a manipulative asshole.

Fact: she has always been very, very bad at letting go of things lost to her.

So when Bruce vanishes again-poof, just like that-Betty does not fade meekly into the background, content to wait for him to reappear.

No, she takes her anger, her frustration, and her love and does what she should have originally done with the same feelings, years before. She will put herself out of the General's reach and make it so that it will be Bruce that finds her, the next time, instead of the other way around.

First and foremost, she says goodbye to Culver. She'll miss her students, and Leonard, and her favorite pizza place, but she can't stay here anymore. For starters, there are videos floating around everywhere of her and the Hulk, and it's hard to teach a class with people pressed up against the windows, eager to get a peek at "that lady in the trench coat; I mean, did you see her deck that one soldier?" But it's more than that; Culver is where she met Bruce, where they'd had their first date, their first kiss, their first fight. Those memories follow her around like ghosts, shimmery through the spread of time but always, always present. She stares hard at every man wearing a baseball cap pulled down far, as if enough wishing will turn him into Bruce.

It's not healthy and frankly, a little maddening when they all turn out to be no more than tourists.

Secondly, she says goodbye to Virginia in general. Nana passed away a little while back, Mama's been gone for years, and the General...well, there's hardly a reason to stay.

So she puts out job applications at universities and labs all over the country, praying like she hasn't in years that someone unaffiliated with the US Government will come calling.

After months of waiting, after rejection after rejection after rejection, her prayers are answered by a phone call from a private number.

That gives her pause; though she's cut ties with the General, Betty is under no illusions to the lengths he will go to keep her under his thumb, at least in some capacity.

"Hello?" She says tentatively.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to Dr. Elizabeth Ross, please," comes a professional voice.

"This is she," Betty answers.

"Oh, good. Dr. Ross, I wanted to speak to you about the application you sent into us at Stark Industries."

Betty cringes; it had been a long shot at best. Stark Industries is known for their innovations in all things technological, along with their flamboyant and supposed superhero CEO. Her degree in cellular biology is out of place amongst engineers, architects, and weapons designers. But there's no company-or name, come to think of it-that pisses the General off more, and after Stark Industries had ended their contract with the Army, Betty is fairly certain there could be no company less likely to sell her out to her father.

"Dr. Ross?" The voice jars her out of her musings and Betty flushes.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

"I was wondering when would be the most convenient time to meet with you to discuss salaries," the voice says. "I understand you're still in Virginia, but we would be more than willing to send one of the jets if you'd like to come to New York. Or we could meet somewhere in the middle; I'm really not picky."

The world spins, once, twice.

"I-what?"

"I'd like to offer you a job, Dr. Ross," there's a note of amusement, now, but not scorn. "At Stark Industries we pride ourselves on working with the best minds in the country, and I'd hazard a guess that yours is among that number."

"But-what would I even do?" Betty asks, mind reeling. "I'm hardly qualified to build a-a superhero suit or help manufacture futuristic weapons-"

"I think we've got both of those covered," the voice interrupts, sounding less than cordial for the first time, "a little too well, in fact."

"...alright. I...I could come to New York any time this week."

"Perfect. Is tomorrow too soon?"

Betty looks around the room; her things are all packed, ready for whatever direction she goes in.

"Not at all."

The plane is sleek and black and opulent in a way that Nana would have approved of, but that would have made the General grumble and huff about rich heirs and spoiled heiresses sticking their noses where they don't belong.

Betty, however, thinks the plane's just fine, especially when she's given tea and asked half a dozen times if the temperature's alright, if there's anything else she needs.

She's not quite sure why Stark Industries is so interested in her; by all accounts, there's no need for them to dabble in the more biological side of things; but she can hardly complain with how abysmally bad the job search is going otherwise.

(That's the issue of being seen all over television in the midst of the destruction of Harlem; no one wants to hire anyone who had anything to do with the Hulk.)

She's not quite sure what to expect when she steps off the plane, but a serene strawberry blonde all in white is very low on the list.

"Dr. Ross?" She asks, extending her hand. "I'm Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries."

"It's nice to meet you," she manages, hoping her confusion isn't plain on her face.

It must be, or this Pepper Potts is exceptionally good at reading people, because she smiles and says, "We've had a bit of change with management recently. I hope that's not a problem."

"No, not at all," and it's not, really. It's more mystery than anything, and Betty's nothing if not curious.

Pepper Potts, as it turns out, is as efficient as she is professional. Betty is being considered for a sub-set of their science division, a new branch the company is looking to develop focusing on applications in biotechnology.

"As you may know, we've become somewhat of a front-runner in robotics," Pepper explains as she leads Betty through the incredibly extensive lab, "and with our departure from the weapons industry, there's a big hole to fill as far as production goes."

"And what are you looking to fill it with?" Betty asks.

Pepper stops, turning slightly to offer Betty a small smile. "Stark Industries has provided enough things to help hurt people. It's time we make things that can help heal them instead."

The Hippocratic Oath floats back to her, suddenly, though she hasn't practiced medicine in years and is far from ready to stitch anyone up again. But helping design technology that can help people, keep them healthy and strong? She's seen what war does, even when it's inside one person, one family. Someone has to fight the good fight, if the traditional "good guys" won't.

Yeah, that's something she's interested in.

"So," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "when do we start?"

She's just settled into her tiny but exquisitely clean Manhattan apartment that Ms. Potts-"Please, call me Pepper, you have no idea how happy I am to have another woman around here"-helped her find when it arrives.

Leonard must have forwarded it to her, because she just signed her lease the day before, but that doesn't stop it from appearing, innocuous and innocent-looking along with the rest of her mail.

It's a white envelope, like any other. Addressed like any other. Stamped like any other.

The difference, of course, is its source; she'd know Bruce Banner's cramped, spidery writing anywhere.

She has to sit down before she opens it; sit down and put her head between her knees to keep from screaming and making her new neighbors think that Bertha Rochester had moved next door.

With a trembling hand, she opens it.

"Oh," she gasps, when she sees what's inside. "Oh, Bruce."

It's her mother's necklace. They'd pawned because they'd had to; Betty hadn't regretted it for a second, Mama would have adored Bruce, and besides, it was hers to decide what to do with, how to use its value.

The fact that he'd found it and returned it to her...oh, it makes her heart ache with how much she loves this man.

There's a short letter as well. She has to wipe the tears from her glasses three times before she can even open it, let alone read it.

Dear Betty,

I know-

I'm sorry-

I had to get this back to you. I know how much she meant to you, and I couldn't bear the thought of you giving this last bit of her up. Not like that. Not for me.

I'm somewhere safe now, out of the General's reach. I hope you are, too.

I'm learning to control him, Betty. Or trying to, anyways. Some days it's easier, other days it's not. Like all things.

I can't give you an address to write to; they're probably tracking your mail and I'll move again before you read this. But you should know that I'm thinking of you. Always.

There's so many things I wish were different. But one thing that doesn't change is this: be happy, Betty. Please. You deserve that. You deserve more than that (even if I'm not the one to give it to you).

I miss you. I snuck your lip gloss into my back pocket and sometimes the smell of it is the only thing that keeps me sane. Though thinking about it now, that doesn't sound too stable.

I hope-

I wish-

I can't promise that I'll ever see you again, but God, I hope I get to.

I love you.

Bruce

She puts the necklace around her neck and locks the letter away in the nightstand. Some things just hurt too much to deal with every day; this is one of them.

The first time she meets Tony Stark, it's entirely by accident.

She's in the lab, later than usual, intent on working out the issue with the latest proposed invention-biorobotics are still more science fiction than true science, but then again, so were superheroes, super soldiers, and giant green rage monsters. If the latter could exist, why couldn't the former?

Betty is so focused on the whirling vials that she almost misses the muttered cursing drifting down the hall. In fact, she's sure she would have missed it entirely, if not for the sudden coppery smell of blood accompanying it. Startled, Betty sits up, leaning away from her work station. The lab is deserted as far as she can see, and while there may be some stragglers down in R&D, it's unlikely that one of them would have cut themselves on anything other than a slip of paper.

"Hello?" She calls. "Anyone there?"

The cursing grows louder and she follows the sound, rounding the corner as quickly as she can.

"It's after hours," a voice says, sounding slightly pinched, "if you're trying to get overtime, it won't work. We're notoriously tight with our money around here."

Betty rolls her eyes; from day one Stark Industries has been entirely too generous with her, and she knows for a fact the company has one of the highest employee satisfaction rates in the entire country.

"I beg to differ," she says, finally finding the source of the voice: Tony Stark, in the flesh. "Are you bleeding, Mr. Stark?"

"No. Maybe. A little."

She steps closer, looking him over. "...judging by the fact that you're not alarmed by the glowing cylinder in the middle of your chest, I'm going to guess that's supposed to be there?"

"If I want to keep the shrapnel out of my heart, it kinda has to be, yeah," he snarks, dark eyes flicking up to meet hers. "You're the new doc Pepper hired. Elizabeth something?"

"Betty," she answers. "Betty Ross."

She's not prepared for his reaction; his face morphs from carefully controlled mocking to open mouthed shock. "Dr. Betty Ross? As in the author of Biology and Technology: the Human Machine? Daughter of General 'Great-Big-Bag-of-Dicks' Ross?"

"Guilty as charged," she admits, frowning at the strange black discoloration of the veins around metal thing in his chest. "That doesn't look normal."

"I think you'll find normal's not something I've ever really been good at," he says. "Ridiculously charming, sure, devilishly handsome, of course, but normal...well, we've had a bit of strained relationship, normal and I."

Betty doesn't think she's ever met a man-no, a human-who talks as much and as quickly as Tony Stark.

"It's poisoning you," she concludes, peering closer at the contraption in his chest, the dark veins around it, the strain of the tissue, fighting against something taking up their rightful space. "Whatever is in there isn't helping you anymore, Mr. Stark."

"Figured that out myself, thanks," he groans. "And I think my being shirtless and fanboying over your thesis for the past six years kinda removes the need for formality. I'm Tony."

She shakes his offered hand, smiling just a little. "Betty. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Tony nods towards where his shirt had been clearly abandoned and Betty passes it to him, still frowning absentmindedly at the obvious sickness before her.

"Is that why Pepper is CEO?" She asks abruptly, puzzle pieces fitting together in her mind.

Tony eyes her, clearly taken aback. "Pepper is CEO because she damn well should be."

There it is, Betty thinks, another puzzle clicking together. Pepper always talks about Tony with a thread of exasperation in her voice-who could blame her-but with an undercurrent of deep, deep affection as well. That same feeling is as plain on Tony Stark's face as it is in his CEO's voice and the realization is there, clear as day: they're in love with each other, whether they know it or not.

"You'll find no argument from me on that point," Betty concedes, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. "But...Tony, does she know?"

"Know that she makes a better CEO than I ever did?" He snorts a laugh, deflecting, deflecting, deflecting. "I would think so."

She narrows her eyes at him in her sternest professor stance. "Does she know that you're dying?"

Dark eyes stare into hers, pain and anger and sorrow clear in them. "No. And she can't."

Betty's seen eyes like his before. In her father, after Mama died. In Bruce, after failed formula after failed formula. This is the man on the edge of self-destruction.

And she'll be damned if she watches him burn.

Squaring her shoulders, Betty holds her hand out to Tony. "I'm going to help you. I don't know how, but even for Iron Man poison is poison and blood is blood. And those are two things I do know how to work with."

A smile slowly appears on his face. "I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Dr. Ross."

She manages to come up with a halfway decent suppressant for the poison. Betty doesn't have the resources for an antidote, but she can slow the spread of it and lessen its effects.

The blackness of Tony's veins fade to a still-troubling purple. He swears he can breathe easier-"Though how I manage it with a knockout like you around should never fail to amaze"-and that he feels infinitely better.

Almost brand new.

Still, this success isn't enough to keep her from wanting to absolutely murder him at his own birthday party.

Drunkenness Betty can abide by, but abject recklessness? Almost injuring his guests and himself? Hurting Pepper?

It's enough to make her want to strangle him herself, newfound friendship be damned.

In fact, if not for the arrival of his military friend-Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, who prefers Rhodey, according to a slightly teary Pepper-she thinks she might have.

Hell, she's not entirely certain he wouldn't have done himself in, without Rhodey subduing him. The thought of it makes her heart clench; Betty's never had a problem making friends, but finding people she truly cared for was always a bit more of a stretch. And she does care about Tony Stark; arrogance and playboy slickness aside, there's something good in him, something earnest and strong and brave that reminds her of Bruce.

If nothing else, Pepper is her friend and deserves to be treated better by the man she loves, especially when he's more than capable of it.

(She doesn't trust Tony's new assistant, Natalie Rushman, as far as she could throw her. She's...too polished, too smooth, too poised to be real. Betty's spent plenty of time in the company of liars, and this woman has false written all over her like a brand.)

What feels like years later, she's watching the TV in abject horror as a veritable army of robots attack Tony and Rhodey with vicious precision. Pepper's not answering the phone, Natalie and Happy have vanished, and all Betty can do is...wait.

Sometimes it feels like that's all she's ever done.

"Dr. Ross," comes JARVIS's congenial voice, "Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts have returned. They are in the medical bay at the moment. Shall I tell them to expect you?"

She's already down the hall before the AI can finish speaking.

Pepper is standing sentinel at Tony's shoulder when she arrives, the suppressant clutched in her fist and a litany of curses whirling on her tongue. Rhodey steps between her and Tony-which he has valid reason to do, as she probably looks on the verge of homicide-hands coming up to hold her shoulders gently.

"Hey, easy, easy. The man's almost died three times today."

Betty grits her teeth in frustration. "And if you don't let me inject what's in this vial into his stupid, reckless arm right now, it's going to be a fourth."

Rhodey blinks. Processes that.

Pepper goes stiff behind him, turning to look at Tony with wide eyes.

"Tony, what is Betty talking about?"

Groaning, Tony covers his eyes with his hand. "Dammit, Ross, I was almost off scot free."

"You were dying?!"

"Er...just a little, but it's all fixed now, I synthesized a thing my dad had a secret blueprint for, so no more poisoning for me, yay! Whole new arc reactor right here, baby. And speaking of secrets, did you know my assistant is actually a Russian super assassin brought in by SHIELD? Clearly the hiring department has gotten a little lax on those background checks-

"You were dying, Tony-"

"Were, as in past tense-Betty made this thing, an antidote-"

"You know damn well it wasn't an antidote. It was a suppressant, a steroid of sorts, not a cure."

"Tony, I asked you if something was wrong, I asked on multiple fucking occasions-"

"Aw, Rhodey, don't be mad-"

"Don't be mad?! You were practically a walking corpse, Tony! We could have lost you at any moment-"

"Hey, yell at Betty, too! She's known for forever-"

"A month, at most; I'm so sorry, Pepper, I didn't know how to tell you-"

"It's not your fault, you were just trying to help-"

"I was just trying to help, too!"

Pepper, Rhodey, and Betty say, in unison, "Shut up, Tony."

The new normal is strange for a while, like any change is.

Pepper and Tony together are not much different than they are apart, if maybe a little gentler with each other and certainly happier. It's nice, to see them so happy; Pepper certainly deserves it and there's no doubting Tony needs it, the small slice of peace being with her brings him.

It hurts just a little, too. Pepper's been Betty's one constant since she joined Stark Industries. Tony is the only person who's ever memorized an entire book on biotechnological principles in one night just to be able to debate her on things. And while they're both still her friends, there's no missing their interlocked hands under the table, or the incredibly tender looks Tony directs Pepper's way when he thinks she's not watching. Seeing them together is right, but it also..stings, because Betty doesn't have that for herself.

Not anymore.

Maybe never again.

Pepper, observant and kind as she is, picks up on it first.

Betty can only kick herself for being so obvious when Pepper turns up at her apartment one night, a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Girls' night," she declares, offering Betty a smile when she tries to protest. "Tony knows perfectly well how to get along without me."

"Pepper, this isn't necessary-"

Pepper ignores her, producing two bottles of wine from the depths of her bag. "Red or white?"

Admitting defeat (and maybe that a girls' night was just a little bit necessary), Betty sighs. "Red, please."

And if she ends up crying over the movie-13 Going on 30, Pepper really does know her-more than she usually would, Pepper's good enough not to say anything about it.

Two weeks later, she's in the middle of reading over the newest reports from the nanotechnology department, when Tony's voice interrupts her thoughts.

"Betty, are you busy?"

"For you, never," she teases, looking up to give him a smile; Tony is, in many ways, like the smarmy, incredibly rich older brother she'd never known she wanted.

The man beside him, however, is a surprising sight.

"Agent Coulson," she says warmly, seeing Tony's eyes widen out of the corner of her eye, "it's nice to see you again."

"Dr. Ross," he answers, shaking her hand. "A pleasure, as always."

Tony's eyes are flicking back and forth, his brain nearly audibly working to make the connection between them.

"My father's no fan of SHIELD," Betty says before Tony injures himself, "Agent Coulson and I have spent a lot of time together trying to reclaim the Gamma Project."

"Still a work in progress," Coulson agrees. "The research is ours now, thanks to you, but General Ross still has leeway to continue his...search for Dr. Banner."

Her heart lurches, the way it always does when she thinks about Bruce, about where he could be in the world, if he was safe and warm and healthy-

"I'm may just be a genius, playboy, philanthropist and not a lawyer, but that doesn't sound exactly legal," Tony interjects. "Dr. Banner is a person, not a science experiment."

Betty laughs harshly. "Good luck convincing my father of that." She turns to Agent Coulson, eyeing him carefully. "But I doubt that's why you're here to talk to me."

He smiles, slightly, controlled in his facial expressions as he is in everything else. "SHIELD has a sample we'd like for you to take a look at."

"And as I'm a consultant for SHIELD, I also get to look at the mysterious, top secret sample," Tony says, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. "The perks of being Tony Stark never end."

Betty and Coulson exchange an exasperated expression.

"What sample, Agent?"

The sample is not near as exciting as the build up to it: it's a vial of blood, still warm from the high-tech briefcase Coulson brought it here in. Betty handles it carefully, conscious of both pairs of eyes watching her every move.

"Staring at me isn't going to make the results happen faster," she says, smiling slightly when Tony jumps guiltily and Coulson's eyes dart away. "It's going to take at least a day at best."

"What did I hire you for, again?" Tony teases. He winces when she pinches his arm and Coulson watches them with a bemused expression on his face.

"You didn't," Betty answers, "Pepper did."

"Ah, Ms. Potts," Agent Coulson says. "Will we be visiting her today?"

"A great idea," she adds, despite Tony scowling in the background. "Go on, now, shoo. I'll call when the results are ready."

Tony shoots her a very impolite hand gesture when Coulson's back is turned.

She waggles her fingers at him cheerily as the doors of the elevator close behind them. Turning back to the now spinning vial, she leans closer, peering closely at it. "Now," she says to herself, "let's see what all of the fuss is about."