525,600 Minutes

No Day But Today

Training goes smoothly between Tony, Pepper and the kids. They play more games than actual training, messing with new Stark tech and a messy round of paintball an elegant Izabella respectfully declined to participate in. Choosing instead, to mesmerize Antonia with her green energy the toddler insists on watching.

Tony is always cautious over their interactions while Pepper finds it absolutely adorable. Of course, he would never pull them apart. He simply doesn't entirely understand Izabella's abilities and the green energy that made his best friend disappear around his pride and joy leaves him on edge. Even if Izabella is always extremely careful.

When Natasha and Clint pull up, he picks up Garrett and heads home while the Starks take Natasha and Lucy back to the tower.

Pepper is empathetically staring Natasha down for the entirety of the drive home with prying questions- whenever Lucy will let her get a word in edgewise. Once they arrive at the tower, the redhead immediately storms off after Tony's weak explanation for Banner's absence at the center. She marches with a fury inside and up toward the lab he's locked himself inside of for the past six hours.

There's anger in her tone when she breaks the door open;

"Bruce Banner!"

The fire in her eyes is startling but then optimistic considering her diagnosis. And seeing her on her own two feet is comforting. He looks up and slowly sits back as he studies her.

His brown eyes are glassy but far more numb than emotional. He doesn't speak, just holds eye contact. She shifts and enters the room, closing the door behind her;

"You left the center early and skipped their mentor hour?! Izabella told me you yelled at Lucy?! Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Bruce fixates forward, knee bouncing nervously while he clasps his hands. All programs are running, several screens are down. He's run 18 different tests since the power has turned back on and he's not finished.

Natasha sits quietly beside him in an open chair and tucks her hands under her knees. He's refusing to talk, choosing instead to tug at his fingers. So she reaches to take and hold the one closest to her and break the physicist from his trance.

With his mind still racing he mumbles numbly, "I ran your blood."

She swallows the lump in her throat forcing her words, "And? You never texted me the results."

He swipes the screen, still emotionless, "This isn't something you text."

Natasha's neck tightens, equally emotionless. He clears his throat and moves to stand and check on another test.

She stands to read the file he's left open, skimming through the diagnosis. It's detailed and thorough, giving her exactly 525,600 minutes or one year until the radiation fully takes over and shuts her body down.

"About what I expected," she mumbles matter-of-factly, though his version gives her more time than she feels like she has.

He tenses, keeping his back to her when he mumbles borderline incoherent, "I'm running more tests-."

She sighs and tilts her head, resting some of her weight on her hands. She forces her voice to calm, "Bruce, stop. It's okay."

"-I already have a pill that'll help with pain, take it every night until I find a cure, alright?," he pivots, eyes soft though he refuses to break his expression.

"Vrach-."

"We've combusted. It's official. I've hurt you-," he can't stop pacing.

"Do you want to sit down for a minute? And we can...,' she rolls her eyes, trying not to yell, 'talk?"