Five years. Five years since Bruce had walked back into her life, no longer torn between two selves, but whole. A brilliant scientist in a seven-foot frame of pure muscle, green skin stretched over a body that could level buildings, and yet he'd never once made her feel small.

She'd been a medic at Stark Tower. He'd been a scientist running from himself. Somewhere between the bandages and the late-night lab sessions, they'd found each other.

"You deserve someone who won't break," he'd told her once, early on, before the Professor had emerged.

She'd laughed in his face.

Now they had a life. His lectures at ESU, her shifts at the clinic. Weekend dinners with Bucky and Sam, who'd long since stopped flinching whenever Bruce stood up too fast. Yelena's blunt affection and Peter's endless questions about gamma radiation. Morgan Stark's giggles when Bruce hoisted her onto his shoulders.

And the Hulk— the real Hulk, the savage one— had been quiet for five years.

That was about to change.

But it wasn't.

And the way he was looking at her now, eyes dark with concern and something softer, made her chest tighten.