Prison Break
(The sequel to Alone is here! I had a few requests for there to be a part 2 to this, and with my christmas trade with @astrobruce coming up i figured what better way to wrap up the decade than with a prison break. Enjoy!)
He didn’t know how long they’d both been there. There was a lot about their current situation that he found he didn’t know, really. Their location, for a start. He couldn’t feel anything of the outside air, as if the sky itself had been closed off from him. Thor hadn’t felt like that since…well, since Odin had cast him out, really.
At least he knew Bruce was beside him. He couldn’t see the scientist - or his green companion, but being Asgardian had its privileges. The weather may have been barred from him, but Bruce’s breathing rang true in his ears if he wished to listen to it. The coolness of the metal against his cheek as he placed his ear to the wall, the soft tones of Bruce trying to talk to him - and his ability to talk back. It made the whole ordeal a lot less unbearable.
He was sure he would’ve been fine if it had been just that. Just a prison, a monitoring, nothing more. But of course, fate wasn’t so kind to him. Not when he woke one day from a sleep he didn’t remember entering, staring with abject horror at the machinery that was now lining his arms. Metal coils circling him like snakes, and he felt the freezing material of something against the back of his neck.
And Ross was there, standing in front of him, toying with some kind of activator in his hand.
Thor’s voice was hoarse, with disuse and something he’d swear wasn’t fear. It wasn’t. He was Thor, God of Thunder. And he was not scared of a man in a pressed suit with a trimmed mustache.
“I know you must feel very powerful with us being here,”
He nodded in the direction of where Bruce’s cell was, trying his best to picture him alive and well and not the cold, shaking figure that haunted his dreams in the few hours of sleep he’d been able to get.
“Very powerful, and very strong. But please, listen to me. This is a bad idea. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
He swallowed, taking a few steps towards the glass - or as many as his now limited mobility would allow.
“I don’t even know how these powers work - not really. I thought I did when I had mjolnir, but now I don’t, and I have no idea what’s going to happen if you press that button. You…You can’t do this.”
Ross, for a moment, seemed to consider this. In the face of the unnatural, on the brink of accessing a raw force of nature, he did what any human would do. When faced with the passage to the northern seas, with the mountainous ice caps that loomed over ships and the biting wind that froze fingers and cracked skin - people had hesitated before drawing out the maps.
They’d considered the pros and the cons, used their heads, used caution.
Ross’s fingers wavered above the control panels, his face set in stone.
Thor shook his head mutely, the eloquent phrases and elaborate threats and ominous forebodings he’d picked up from a cave somewhere long ago boiling down into one word. One syllable.
“Please."
Ross frowned. The air was still.
Until he pressed down, and Thor’s world tilted in the corner of his vision, dissolving into a burning white that for a moment seemed suspended between the here and now. For a moment, nothing touched him. His body was not his own.
Until it was.
Until his soul was dragged, screaming back into his body, and he felt every jolt that ran through his veins.
Standing tall through that storm was a feat that none could have achieved. The strongest ships still stood a chance of sinking, the most hardened sailors could still drown when faced with cold waters.
Thor didn’t want to drown.
Not with Bruce on the other side of the wall. Not when their miraculous escape hadn’t happened yet, and he still had promises left to fulfil - tales of tea and warmth and some old sappy movie that he still needed to tell.
For a moment, the thought of it worked.
And then the pain redoubled, and he didn’t have moments anymore.
***
The grate was cold, and Bruce was panicking.
Of course, maybe it was a little late in the day to start panicking. Given that he was being held by General Ross who had made his plans to dissect him abundantly clear in the past. But, he’d always had Thor. His rage, his sorrow, his storms echoing off of the sides of the chamber. The creeping feeling of static that seemed to sink through his skin itself had always been there, right when he needed it.
And now it wasn’t.
He didn’t have the booming tones of his demi-god. His spaceman. He didn’t have anything to prove that he was even alive-
Bruce’s breath caught in a throat that was growing tighter by the minute, and for a few moments he teetered on the edge of the abyss, his mind reeling and the corners of his eyes growing wet and hot.
“No.”
He sniffed, wiping his face and attempting to set his features into something cold - something strong. Unbreakable.
‘Hulk, now’s the time. We can’t wait any longer - we’re leaving.’
The larger than life presence shrunk further into the back of his mind, but Bruce wasn’t giving up. Not now. He reached out, pressed at something until it was painful, grabbed the remnants of a flaming childhood by the shoulders and stared his giant in the eyes - metaphorically speaking, of course.
‘I know you’re cold. And I know you’re hurting, and I wish I could take that away from you. But Thor needs our help - he might be hurt, or scared, or…’
Bruce didn’t want to finish the sentence, but Hulk seemed to understand. The presence that had been retreating rapidly into the back of his mind froze, turned, metaphorical ears turned back to Bruce to listen.
‘Blondie not dead,’ Hulk mumbled, and Bruce caught the faintest of tremors in that cavern - deep voice.
‘No, I know. I’m sorry for scaring you.’
Bruce cradled his hand to his chest, tracing his thumb feather-light over the freshly made wounds - still glaring and red even under the shadow of artificial night.
‘But we have to help him. And I need you to get us out of here, big guy. You think you can do that for me?’
‘Hulk tired.’
‘I know.’ Bruce snapped, and immediately regretted it when the presence seemed to shrink away again. He sighed, shaking his head mutedly, his voice falling to softer tones.
‘I know, Hulk. And I promise after this is over, we can take a break. As long as we like. But I just need you to do this one thing for me’.
Hulk stilled for a moment, the corners of his mind growing quiet.
And then his bones began to ache, but for once, the familiar battle for dominance and control wasn’t being held. He stepped back, with a slow and careful breath, passing the torch over to the one thing strong enough to get them out of there.
‘You got this, big guy. Let’s go get our demigod back.’
‘And smash Ross.’
‘Yeah.’ Bruce felt himself grinning as he relinquished control of the wheel.
‘Smash Ross.’
***
And a few dark seconds later, Bruce was stumbling onto the floor, faced with a different problem. He hadn’t even gotten that much prompting - in fact, he’d been all for leaning into this more recent development when abruptly he’d been shoved back into reality, broken glass digging into the skin of his knees as his world reformed itself before his eyes.
‘Hulk? What the hell happened?’
‘Blondie wrong.’
‘What?’
Hulk made one final pushing motion, green eyes blinking away the last of the blurriness, leaving Bruce face to face with the problem.
Thor was standing in the center of the cell, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, the familiar ocean blue blocked out entirely by a pulsing glow of white.
Sparks of lightning flew from his body - a body that was bruised, broken, and teetering as if it was on the edge of collapse. Bruce wasn’t even sure what was holding Thor up at this point. If it was the electrodes that lined his demi-gods arms, or if it was the lightning - each fork forcing him ram-rod straight, suspended like a puppet from glowing strings.
“Thor?”
Bruce managed to croak out, taking one tentative step inward.
“Can you hear me?”
If he could, he made no sign of it. Just kept staring at that point in the ceiling - the only real movement being the occasional twitch of his hands.
A sharp jolt ran through Thor’s body as an arc of lightning surged, and for a moment, Bruce worried for the stability of the room. The electrodes buzzed, lights flickered, and it was then he remembered that scene on the bridge. The clouds darkening, the golden spires of Asgard being torn apart by an unnatural storm - that had been Thor.
It was difficult to remember that, sometimes. To look at the man who had spent 5 months marvelling over the invention of the frappuccino, who wore pyjama bottoms printed with the Hulk’s face, and see a storm of nature.
It made all the news reports seem somehow even more fake. He’d heard the words that they’d said about him, obviously. Bulletins that scrolled across screens, screaming of alien invasions and freak weather conditions and interdimensional conquerors.
Seeing Thor like that was hard.
Confronting the raw force of an elemental God was somehow even harder.
Because Thor was there. He was right in front of him, he was there.
But at the same time, he wasn’t.
This wasn’t Thor. Thor wasn’t an unfeeling storm, a force of destruction and only destruction. He’d always been so much more than what people expected him to be. A warrior, a prince, an Avenger. Throughout all of it he’d even managed to be a friend. And then something closer than that.
It may have been strange, but despite the pain of it all, Bruce was beginning to feel a little bit brave.
Thor was still in there. And someone needed to save him.
Bruce Banner tightened his jaw, stepping further into the eye of the storm.
Working in the fields he did, Bruce had learned a few things about routine, and it’s importance. About taking things slow - not lethargic, but slow. Careful. Following instructions, and biting back the panic that was threatening to boil over.
Bruce was a doctor, at the end of the day. He didn’t get those phd’s for nothing, after all.
And if treating Thor as a patient was what was going to get them through this, then that’s what he would do.
Carefully, Bruce walked forward. Carefully, he stepped over broken glass and warped metal, his eyes catching sight of the grate that connected the two cells together - burned beyond repair.
Carefully, Bruce raised his arms, cupping Thor’s face in his hands, looking for any sign of life within the burning lightning.
Looking for anything that could remind him of the man who had saved his life countless times, and who he’d like to say he’d saved in return.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just -”
Bruce was cut off by a yelp, as a stray spark of electricity shot up his arm. He stumbled backwards, Hulk rearing his head, and he felt his veins flush with green, but he needed control for this.
Hushing Hulk back down to the corner of his mind, Bruce cradled his injured arm, and began his journey again.
Calloused fingers brushed against the electrodes against Thor’s arms, cramped muscles strained as he brought himself to a tiptoe until the cold metal that had been fixed on to the back of Thor’s neck met his hand.
He frowned in sympathy, in anger, and a whole lot of emotions he didn’t necessarily recognise at the moment.
It shouldn’t have come to this. The negotiations should never have been able to reach this point - where strapping in a person, a friend, and harvesting their power was apparently an ok response. Bruce swore to himself that he would protect Thor, if he needed to.
And it was about damn time to start fulfilling that promise.
“So, I don’t know if you can hear me. Or if you’re even still in there. But, just in case you are, I need you to listen,”
Bruce swallowed nervously, fingers latching on to the cold, unfeeling metal, tightening round it until he couldn’t grip any further.
“You told me we were going to get out of here. That at the end of the day, we’d be at home, and things would be ok again. Now, I know you’re not a liar - at least, not to me. So I’m gonna hold you to that standard, and trust you not to kill me when I do this. Ok?”
Thor didn’t respond, but Bruce hoped that maybe it had helped.
If any of it had reached him, he’d count it as a success in this point. Because the universe couldn’t be that cruel, could it? It wouldn’t force a barrier between them, and break it down, only for there to be another one in place.
That couldn’t happen.
No, Thor could always hear him. It was a perk of being Asgardian. Thor would hear him, and Bruce could hear him, too.
He didn’t need a metal grate, or a buzzing of static to hear his spaceman.
The storm was alive. Thor was alive.
And they were getting out of here.
Bruce pulled, and the room was plunged into darkness.
***
Things got a little foggy, after that. He remembered a few details - a warm body falling against him not long after the power had given out. Heavy, with veins that still retained a faint blue-ish glow, but warm.
Hulk had taken over not long after that. Pulled the two of them out through the crumbling prison, and ok, maybe he’d smashed an office on the way.
Ross hadn’t been there. Part of him was disappointed, but another was relieved. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could hurt anymore people. And Hulk seemed to share the same sentiment. A sense of exhaustion, that made him more than a little worried. Because this had been too close. The danger just a little too real - and sure, flying robots and aliens were also very real.
But they’d faced those threats as a team.
The Avengers, Revengers, whoever - there’d always been someone watching someones back.
Here had been too vulnerable. For both of them.
Thor hadn’t woken up just yet, at least, not fully. He’d stirred briefly when they’d gotten to something resembling a safehouse, but he hadn’t been making much sense. Not according to Bruce, anyway.
Hulk seemed to understand more than he did. Which was weird, considering he hadn’t been there for most of it. Bruce was used to doing the comforting, the shushing, being the calming voice and the mediating opinion.
It was strange seeing Hulk do the same. Watching large green fingers brush through Thor’s hair, hearing low tones grumble words of reassurance.
It was nice. But strange.
Even stranger when Hulk had turned those words on Bruce, and insisted he get a proper nights rest.
‘Hulk keep watch. Banner sleep.’
Bruce had hesitated, feeling the overwhelming urge to fidget with his hands that only really resulted in Hulk twitching his fingers.
‘You’re sure you’re gonna be ok?’
‘Hulk fine. Banner sleep.’
‘Alright, but if you need anything -’
‘Banner sleep.’
‘Ok. But only for a bit.’
He paused, taking one last look through the small viewing window he was able to find.
Thor was asleep, too. Nestled in Hulk’s arms, face pressed somewhere between the crook of his elbow - thick, green skin stifling loud snores like the rolling of thunder.
‘Night, Hulk.’
‘Night, Banner.’