The air was thick with dust and the scent of blood.

Bruce Banner came to with a gasp, his body trembling as the last remnants of green faded from his skin. His muscles ached, the soreness a cruel reminder of what had just happened. He could feel the cooling sweat on his skin, the torn fabric of his clothes hanging loosely off his frame. But none of that mattered.

What mattered was you.

His heart stopped when he saw you lying there. Bruised. Bloodied. Curled in on yourself, as if trying to shield from a storm that had already passed.

“No…” His voice cracked as he scrambled forward, hands hovering over you but too afraid to touch. “Oh God, no, no, no—”

Memories flooded his mind in fractured flashes. The way the Hulk had fought, raged—but there was no enemy. No threat. Just you. But that didn’t make sense. The Hulk never feared you. If anything, he tolerated you—protected you.

So why… why this time?

His fingers finally brushed your cheek, recoiling when he felt the heat of bruising flesh beneath them. “Please,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me—I didn’t—”

But the truth was in the wreckage around you. In the tremble of your breathing. In the fear that he could still see lingering in your eyes as they fluttered open.

Bruce swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat. He had hurt you. Not just him. The Hulk. And if the Hulk could do this to you, if something had made him snap like this…

Then maybe you weren’t safe with him at all.