Okay. So. We've been moving and I've had online classes and camp and blahdy blah blah and I seriously had, like… five different ideas for this final chapter. But then I ran with this one, because I like it. Hope that, after all this waiting, you do too.

Also, I have no idea how long it's been since the latest Incredible Hulk and the Avengers, so I just avoided that topic. If there's a problem with time frame (and I gave up on Marvel-verse, too, for the sake of the story) just point it out and I'll apologize profusely.

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I don't own anything.

After it happens, Bruce wonders how long it would take him to calculate the odds of running into a certain Betty Ross in the middle of New York. He does a quick estimate of New York's population density and the fraction of people that move away from New York in a year and then decides that the answer is, "This sort of thing only happens to me." He'd say it was karma from the destruction he's caused as the Hulk, but already that would be "that sort of thing."

Her reaction is priceless. He doesn't even notice her until she drops everything she's carrying and he stops to help her. Her hair is short and she's wearing sunglasses and a khaki blazer. She looks like a mom. Maybe it's a requirement to have kids.

Kids.

That thought is reeling in his head even as he blurts some random stuff about how long it's been and dazedly agrees to have coffee with her. What if she has had kids? Has she had kids? He doesn't dare to ask. He really, honestly, doesn't dare to say anything, which makes it awkward when they sit across from each other in a nearby café, saying nothing.

"So, I saw you in the news," she says slowly.

Saw the Hulk in the news. No one sees Bruce Banner in the news. Or anywhere, really. The Hulk casts such a damn big shadow. Bruce almost laughs. It's been surprisingly long since he's had such bitter thoughts about the Hulk. Suddenly, the happy times he's had lately seem like a fantasy. Some dream he's had to try to escape from the sucky reality of his life.

"You're… on a team," Betty continues lamely.

Bruce realizes that she's searching for things to say. He's not giving her many options. "Yeah," he grinds out. Once his tongue realizes it's still attached, he manages to continue. "Who would have thought the other guy was a team player, huh?" He knows that should have contained some humor, but his seems to have escaped somewhere. He'd like to follow it, to be honest.

"So… things are… better? For you?" Betty asks. She has a drink of some kind, though Bruce can't remember when she ordered it.

"Yeah," he says. It feels like a lie. It isn't though. He's been happy. Er. Than usual. He suddenly can't remember why.

"Do you live here now?" she asks. She seems to have noticed his sudden speaking disability, and her words are more nudging than awkward. Encouraging, almost.

"Yes. In New York. I live in New York." A city with a giant population density that he's wrecked twice now. The notion seems ridiculous. "Tony has a few extra rooms." Oh yeah. Tony is the reason he doesn't hate life so much. He almost pulls out his phone right then and there and calls his friend.

"Tony Stark?" Betty asks, surprised. "I can imagine he does, yeah." She chuckles. "I guess you two would have a few things to talk about, huh?" She sounds like she's trying to wrap her head around the two of them being friends, and suddenly even the possibility of their friendship being in doubt makes him want to cry. So he changes to topic with all the grace of a guy who spends all his time in a lab.

"You look so much like a mom," he says, because besides the fact that he really, really wants to see Tony, that's all he can think about.

She laughs. "Yeah. I have been for about a year," she says, and before he knows it, she's getting out pictures.

By the end, their conversation is almost fluid and they've exchanged numbers. He still gets back to Stark(-Potts) tower feeling like he's barely escaped with his life.

Tony's not home. He's profoundly disappointed, but at the same time, he's sort of relieved, because Pepper takes one look at him and asks, "What happened?" He doubts Tony would have even that much tact. So he sits and he tells Pepper exactly what happened, and she looks at him and nods.

"My great aunt was barren," she says, and he just stares at her.

"What?" he croaks.

"Sorry," Pepper says, putting up her hands and closing her eyes in the way that she does. It looks like she's switching modes. She shakes her head and looks at him. "I'm used to Tony, where you have to get his attention before you start speaking, so you start in the middle…" she trails off and waves her hands. Bruce smiles, because he knows exactly what she's talking about. "What I'm trying to say is, I get why you're upset. Betty represents everything you've lost. Your life, your old friends, your ability to have kids…"

His eyes prickle at the words. He finally dares to laugh at nothing funny, because Pepper can understand. He's never really thought about kids. Or the fact that he's unable to have them, because sex is sort of a prerequisite to that. "It is the kids that are bothering me, isn't it?" he asks, which is silly, because he should know. "I've never really cared about it, I don't know why it's so awful now." He finds himself wiping tears from his face. God, it's been a while since he's cried.

Pepper pulls her chair closer to him and puts an arm around his shoulder. "Everyone wants kids. It's natural for you to be upset when you see a woman you might have settled down with and had kids with if it weren't for everything else. Especially when 'everything else' is something devastating, like becoming a giant green monster when you're angry." He literally giggles, rubbing at his eyes. Words fail him, so he nods.

Pepper clicks her tongue sympathetically and shakes him a little. "It's going to be alright, you'll bounce back."

They sit there like that for a while. Pepper has to be the most patient person on the world. She doesn't move an inch while he sits there, frozen and crying. The only reason she finally leaves is because she hears Tony come home and moves to intercept. Bruce thinks he should follow her, but he can't bring himself to stand. It's like every muscle in his body has decided to take a holiday.

There's a small gap between when Pepper left and when Tony comes in, so Bruce figures she's explained everything. He's immensely grateful, because when Tony steps into the room, watching him with those surprisingly soft brown eyes and without so much as word, all he can say is, "Hey."

Tony snorts a little and comes right over to kneel beside Bruce and wrap his arms around him. Bruce returns the gesture and clings to Tony. Now he's really crying, sniffing and hiccupping and all.

"Sorry about the hypothetical kids," Tony says quietly.

Bruce laughs. "Why are you sorry?" The lump in his throat. "You're the closest I've got to them."

He practically feels Tony smile at that. "Isn't that enough to be sorry for?"

It's a struggle to untangle himself from Tony, but when he does, he looks at him and smiles. It figures that after half a day of misery, it only takes a few minutes of his friend's company before he stops feeling lousy. "Nah. If I had a son, I'd want him to be just like you."

Tony's face lights up like the sun. He sits on the floor and looks up, grinning like Christmas came early. "You're nuts," he says. "Do you realize what I was like as a kid?"

"Oh, you weren't always this immature? That's scary."

And they sit there laughing until Pepper comes in and sends them to bed.

Um… review? Kthnxsbai? XD