Some conversations they could only have in the dark.

It was late, and in the darkness they were awake. It had been quiet for a long time, but neither had fallen asleep.

Tony lay on his side, Bruce next to him on his stomach, his head turned away. Tony traced a finger along the firm line of Bruce's shoulder. "I can feel you thinking."

Bruce's voice was quiet. "It hurt."

"Tell me."

"No, it was a long time ago. It's not important anymore."

Tony pressed himself into Bruce's side, burying his face into the back of his neck and inhaling the scent of Bruce's skin. "Tell me."

"It took me days to even bring myself to do it. Days where I just held it in my hand, feeling the weight of it. Sometimes it would be light as a feather, other times it felt like it was dragging my whole body down." Tony reached his hand out and found Bruce's, intertwining their fingers. "I couldn't help but study the mechanics of it, and I took it apart and put it back together again three times, all the while thinking about what I hoped this thing would do."

Bruce slowly rolled over, though not letting go of Tony's hand. Once he had settled on his back, he pulled Tony down onto his chest. It was dark, but in the dim light cast by his arc reactor, Tony could see Bruce's gaze, intensely focused on the ceiling.

"The day before it happened, I almost lost it. I think that's what finally pushed me over the edge. I was down in New Mexico, in Socorro. I should have known better, New Mexico is always a bad place for me. Still, I had this friend at JPL, and he was doing work down there, and wanted me in for a consult."

"They have a fun setup there."

"Yeah. Well, shit went down, there was this thing with some military guys there…it was bad. I kept it together, but it was a close one, and I barely got out of there. Haven't heard from my buddy since; I'm not sure what happened to him. So there I was, middle of fucking nowhere New Mexico, and all I had with me was two pairs of socks, a candy bar, a Dan Brown novel, and a 9mm semi-automatic."

"Dan Brown?" Tony nearly giggled at the thought of his intelligent lover reading such trashy fiction.

Bruce poked him in the side. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Sorry, sorry. Continue. You and Mr. Brown and a gun."

"Anyway. It was a mess. People died there because of me – though thankfully not by my hands, at least not that time. It was still another blow. Another blow on top of everything I'd already taken. I'd felt good going to Socorro, because things had been quiet and the other guy hadn't made an appearance in a while and I thought that things were finally starting to look up. That was when it all went to hell on me again. Finally I just did it. I said fuck it and I sat there on a dusty hill on a hot fucking day and I put the barrel in my mouth and pulled the trigger, no hesitations."

Tony could feel the tension in Bruce's hands on his back, and the rise and fall of his chest under Tony's cheek quickened as his breathing got shallower. He wanted to tell Bruce to stop, to not put himself through the pain of speaking this memory, but he knew that there was some sort of demon Bruce was trying to exorcise by telling this. He kept his mouth shut and pressed his face to Bruce's chest, curled his arms up under Bruce's shoulders and gripped them tightly.

"It burned. It was a fire in my mouth, in my head. That fraction of a second it took for the bullet to leave the barrel of the gun and punch through the roof of my mouth stretched out for ages. Then suddenly the pain was everywhere and I was no longer driving the bus. Sometimes things are clearer than others, sometimes I can see and feel and almost think when he comes out. That time, all I could do was scream and hear it come out as a roar from his mouth. Just as I felt the burning when I pulled the trigger, I felt this searing and ripping as my body – his body – my body forced the bullet out and the skin and bone reforming after it." He paused, and Tony could tell that he could still feel that pain as if it had just happened. Some wounds never really went away.

Bruce took a deep breath and continued. "Once that happened, things got really fuzzy as I was pushed even further into the back of my own head while the other guy took off running. I woke up in Mexico, at least five hundred miles from where I had been. I have no idea what happened, just that it had been days. I was exhausted but not starving or injured. After that I went to India, trying to get as far away from it as possible. And it worked, until…"

"Until Fury called you in. You can't say that was a bad day for you, can you?"

"Well, there were certainly both ups and downs. I could have killed Natasha…"

"But that didn't happen, and you don't know for sure that you even would have. You know how capable she is. Natasha would have figured something out. She doesn't seem to hold it against you."

"Yeah. Still. It could have been a lot worse."

"But it wasn't. And, if I recall correctly, you then came back and made up for it in a rather splendid way, especially as it pertained to my continued existence."

He could feel Bruce tremor slightly under him. "I couldn't let you fall."

Those quiet words sent such waves of emotion through Tony that he couldn't speak for a moment. He just let them wash over him, taking a moment to relish the feelings inside and the feel of Bruce's skin against his.

Finally he found his voice again. "Why tonight? What brought this up?"

Bruce moved a hand from Tony's back up to his head and slowly stroked his hair. "Because it's good."

"What is?"

"Everything. Everything is good. The Hulk did good things instead of bad things. I ended up here. I ended up with you. This is several magnitudes better than how good things were before. Before I tried to put a bullet in my brain when things fell apart. Tony, my whole life things have fallen apart. Even before the other guy, I had a shitty childhood and a rough life. Every time I picked myself up and kept going, until then. What about what happens when…if…things fall apart again?"

"And what makes you so positive they will?"

"I'm not…but so far life has had a way of proving me right. I know I wouldn't have any pieces left to pick up if I ever lost you. Especially if I was the cause."

Tony sat up a bit, enough so he could pull Bruce's face down, making him make eye contact instead of staring at the ceiling. "Hey. Look at me here. That's not going to happen. You aren't going to lose me. You aren't going to hurt me. I don't care what happens. You could turn into the Hulk right now and break both my arms and I'd still love you in the morning. Get it?"

"Yeah, but what if I killed you?"

"Why on earth would you save my life just to turn around and accidentally kill me?"

"That was-"

"What? That was what? You said it yourself, you couldn't let me fall. If you couldn't let me fall, then how could you kill me? Bruce, it's not going to happen. Besides, this goes beyond you and me now. Do you realize how many people you have in your corner? People who know who you are, what you can do, what you are capable of, and have your back unconditionally? People like Pepper and Natasha and Steve and Fury and Barton and all the rest. We're here for you."

At these words, all the tension went out of Bruce's body. He pulled Tony down and kissed him, harder and fiercer than ever before. They pressed against each other, skin to skin, burning up with need. A stray thought went through Tony's mind, he should talk to Fury and see if the spy couldn't find Bruce's missing friend, but then Bruce's hands made it very hard for Tony to think about anything else at all.