[The way she lists off names isn't helping. It plunges him further into a vague sense of numbed horror at the reality she's from, at how many people this has happened to. At what she's had to endure. He doesn't know what to address first, can barely wrap his brain around it-- and part of him, a strong part, wants to make a snapped remark and walk off to order, ending this conversation.
One thing she said is ringing in his ears, preventing that. Rising above all the incredulity and frustration over how many had been exposed to the radiation, over the discrepancy between the Hulk's origin. They turned me into a weapon and used me to kill people. Betty. They'd done that to Betty, and Bruce hadn't been there to stop it. It's impossible to hold himself accountable for the fate of every Betty across every universe, but that doesn't alter his shame and mounting, boiling anger at that other him who let it happen.
The fact that he's sure the other Bruce feels the same way about himself isn't any consolation.
So he snaps back, he can't help it, but he doesn't walk off.] I can blame myself, [he says tightly.] She should be able to expect more from me than not getting her killed. That's not good enough. [It's just not. Not for someone like Betty, who deserves so much better. He knows how isolated she can feel with her mother gone and her father there but even more removed. Bruce had tried to fill in that hole, as she'd done for him.
This was where it got him. Where it got her, this Betty that would be as much a monster as he is if it weren't for that Betty didn't have that capacity in her.]
I'm sorry that happened to you, [he says, audibly agonized, unable to hold it in any longer. His hand reaches across the table to instinctively rest on top of hers, but he catches himself halfway there, fluttering in the air, the movement aborted as he waits visibly for permission.]
It's my worst fear, [he goes on quietly.] That there would be more made. That it would be you-- You deserve so much better than that, Betty. I'm sorry I'm never able to give it to you.
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One thing she said is ringing in his ears, preventing that. Rising above all the incredulity and frustration over how many had been exposed to the radiation, over the discrepancy between the Hulk's origin. They turned me into a weapon and used me to kill people. Betty. They'd done that to Betty, and Bruce hadn't been there to stop it. It's impossible to hold himself accountable for the fate of every Betty across every universe, but that doesn't alter his shame and mounting, boiling anger at that other him who let it happen.
The fact that he's sure the other Bruce feels the same way about himself isn't any consolation.
So he snaps back, he can't help it, but he doesn't walk off.] I can blame myself, [he says tightly.] She should be able to expect more from me than not getting her killed. That's not good enough. [It's just not. Not for someone like Betty, who deserves so much better. He knows how isolated she can feel with her mother gone and her father there but even more removed. Bruce had tried to fill in that hole, as she'd done for him.
This was where it got him. Where it got her, this Betty that would be as much a monster as he is if it weren't for that Betty didn't have that capacity in her.]
I'm sorry that happened to you, [he says, audibly agonized, unable to hold it in any longer. His hand reaches across the table to instinctively rest on top of hers, but he catches himself halfway there, fluttering in the air, the movement aborted as he waits visibly for permission.]
It's my worst fear, [he goes on quietly.] That there would be more made. That it would be you-- You deserve so much better than that, Betty. I'm sorry I'm never able to give it to you.