A/N: Hello all! After completing my Loki/OC fic, I thought I'd treat myself to writing a totally unrelated and horribly angsty one shot! I'm sure others have had this idea (I probably should have checked that first!) as Bruce's suicide attempt is darkly intriguing.
The night sky was cloudless but there may as well have been a storm raging as the stars and the moon were no use now.
The light from the distant burning suns could not melt this ice that had formed around his heart and burrowed its way inside, freezing any love, any anger, any remorse dead in its tracks. All he felt now was a numbing sense of all-consuming self pity. It was disgusting.
He felt disgusted with himself for feeling it.
He had always prided himself on being rational and logical; never cold though. He never had time for people who paid no heed to their emotions and kept them all hidden away under lock and key. He remembered his professor had been like that at college. He'd always said that feeling too much wouldn't help with science. You couldn't stroke the animals, you couldn't ask the patients how their families were. That's not our job, he'd say. We're scientists, not wet nurses. Bruce had always disagreed, maintaining that emotions kept you in the real world, kept you thinking about what really mattered.
For the first time since before the gamma exposure, he laughed. It wasn't a laugh that cheered him. It was merely a bitter acknowledgement of the irony. The scientist who had so firmly believed in emotions had lost all of his. They had all been replaced with this yawning pit of melancholy that he had fallen into.
So, he had little choice. In his mind, there was nothing he could do. He had no role to play anymore, no one to look out for, no one to talk to. His life was worse than meaningless...it had become dangerous. He may have been able to deal with being meaningless; he could have gone on and found a monotonous job which he could have done with minimal effort and lived on, soullessly but still existing. He would have been perpetually alone but he could have dealt with that.
Useless was one thing, but dangerous was another matter entirely. He had always known the destruction a scientific accident could cause and now he had seen it firsthand. Unable to distinguish friend from foe. Love from hate.
There was nothing else to be done.
He picked up the gun from the dead grass beside him. He tested the weight, felt the cold metal against his burning skin and, with one last glance at the clear sky above him, placed it between his lips. His eyes closed instinctively but he forced them open. He didn't want the last thing he saw to be his own eyelids. His finger trembled on the trigger and it fired.
Bruce felt a white hot stab of pain and then...nothing else.
The scolding bullet fell from green lips and lost itself in the wild grass.
We don't give up that easily, Banner.
Hope you enjoyed that (if that's the right word?) and please leave me a review! I'd be ever so grateful as I love them very much. Thanks!