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[hyperkinesia]

[ He pushes and he will keep pushing, will keep fighting for as long as there's strength in him. And as far as he's aware, strength won't fail him anytime soon. When has it, after all? The beast is capable of going on and on for however long he needs or wants to, there's no reason to think that that may not be the case now.

Still, there's a strange wave of tiredness that very slowly seeps in through his pores, but he doesn't pay it any mind. He ascribes it to the fact that he's just fighting someone who's equally strong as he is, while usually his adversaries offer little or no opposition. Vaguely, he remembers— the Abomination was also pretty tiring to fight.

Suddenly, the Hulk stumbles. That's a new one. He's not sure how but he misses his footing and he falls back on the dirt, the red Hulk landing on top of him, fists closed. At the last second, he manages to catch her wrist and yank her away, roaring as he rolls them over, then jumps back onto his feet.

Then he shouts again, loud enough to make the very ground nearly shake, a foot stomping down and digging into the dirt. He's mad now, mad he's losing his focus, mad he's losing his grip, his strength— madder still that he doesn't know why, and he blames her entirely. ]

[catalysmic]

[When the Hulk slams his foot against the earth and roars, there's a... surge, an electric counterpoint to the soundwaves propagating through the air violently enough to knock loose branches out of the trees.

It throws her off, a change drawing on memories she can't access, and it sets off alarms that don't do more than frustrate her with their incomprehensibility. Stronger, weaker, she can feel him so clearly now, fluctuating like a seismic wave, and

...she does remembers this. Urging him like she does now, not like she does now, the opposite of what she does now because she's drawn in where she flinched away, joyful where she had been afraid, close enough to touch him when he meets her. Really meets her. Now she backs off between pushing forward, gives ground when she doesn't have to, or doesn't mean to. Waits, sometimes, like a flood percolating, energy cycling through a discrete Lorentzian manifold.]

[hyperkinesia]

[ He's not used to this. That which makes him angrier makes him stronger, but right now, it seems that the angrier he gets, the weaker he feels. It's even worse when she rushes up to him, when he strikes back in what are mostly defensive blows.

She's drawing his energy somehow. He doesn't know how, and Bruce doesn't get it either, but she's doing it.

But she's not attacking now, which is kind of what he was aiming for. He takes one step forward, another, shaking his head when he feels some dizziness creeping in. He huffs in frustration, then roars softly, close enough now that he can reach out and grab her wrist. ]

Betty! [ Like he wants her to listen, really listen, but he's not even sure it'll reach the woman that's no doubt hiding somewhere in there. It doesn't matter; his grip slacks, and he blinks his eyes more slowly. He's getting dizzy again, and no amount of anger is managing to keep him grounded. He falls onto one knee, his frame slowly becoming smaller. ]

[catalysmic]

[Her instinct is to shake him off but he's... and then he says her name. And she can't pull away. She knows her name, remembers it in his voice while he's at her feet (that's not how it happened), and everything is wrong. It makes her mad to see him kneeling. It makes her want to hurl things, but she can't move because he's changing, too, and she's surprised but she isn't because she knows him. Her emptiness is full of this man. It's like he makes up her whole soul and if she moves, Bruce will get hurt.

That makes it through. Bruce is in danger here. She can't hurt Bruce.

She moans, anguished and still angry, and shifts unconsciously into the median state. Smaller and safer and still wrong, but she can think again. His hand is small, still in hers. His skin is light and unbroken. He's hot but cooling fast, and she curves her body over his like there's anything else here to protect him from.]

Bruce! [It sounds like 'you moron' in a voice not quite her own.] Bruce, Bruce, no. Oh god. [Kneeling beside him, she gathers him - gently - closer against the impulse to push him away that still buzzes in counterpoint.]