Stephen observed Bruce, noting the conflict and confusion still lingering in his eyes. It was clear that Bruce wanted to understand, but his skepticism had hardened like armor, and Stephen knew it wasn't going to be easy to break through. But there was one thing Stephen could show him—a way to help Bruce truly understand the duality of his nature.
"You don't believe me, do you? About the Hulk being a part of you. About him being more than just... an accident."
Bruce frowned deeply, crossing his arms over his chest. "I believe he's a problem, something I need to fix. Not... whatever mystical mumbo-jumbo you're talking about. A second personality? Two souls? Come on, Stephen. I've read the research on dissociative identity disorder, but this isn't that. This is gamma radiation mutating my DNA. It's science, not magic."
Stephen's expression remained calm, though a flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. "You can call it science if it makes you feel better, Bruce. But the truth doesn't care about labels. And whether you like it or not, there are two of you in there."
Bruce let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Prove it, then. Show me something that'll make me believe your... magic or whatever it is."
"Alright," Stephen said, his tone more serious now. "If you want proof, I can give you proof."
Bruce frowned, looking even more confused. "What do you mean? What kind of proof?"
Without waiting for a response, Stephen raised a hand and focused. His magic thrummed around him like a distant hum, and he reached into Bruce's form, stretching out his power carefully, this time not wanting to push too far like he had with Blonsky. He wasn't about to make Bruce go through realms again, not after the consequences of that.
Instead, Stephen extended his will into Bruce's psyche, pulling his soul just slightly out of his body, but enough for Bruce to sense it.
Bruce's eyes widened in sudden fear and disbelief. "What the hell are you—"
Stephen's hands moved in a graceful arc, and the world seemed to shift around him. Suddenly, Bruce felt a strange, pulling sensation, like the very fabric of his being was unraveling. And then, in an instant, he was no longer sitting on the couch.
His body slumped backward, unconscious, but his soul—his very essence—was hovering a few feet away, looking down at his physical form.
Bruce gasped, instinctively reaching for something solid, but his hands passed through the air like mist. He turned sharply to Stephen, who stood calmly, his hands still glowing with golden light.
"What... what did you do?" Bruce's voice was trembling, and he realized with a start that it sounded distant, like it was echoing from somewhere deep within him.
"I separated your soul from your body," Stephen said calmly, though his tone carried a warning edge. "It's temporary, but it's enough to show you the truth."
Bruce's wide eyes darted around the room in panic, until he froze. Standing beside his own soul—towering, massive, and unmistakable—was another figure. Green-skinned, hulking, and simmering with a quiet rage. The Hulk.
The two souls were distinctly separate, yet bound together by a shimmering thread of light. The Hulk's glowing, green essence pulsed faintly, its presence powerful and overwhelming. Yet it didn't attack. It simply stared back at Bruce with an unreadable expression, like a reflection in a warped mirror.
Bruce staggered back instinctively, though he wasn't sure where he could even go in this state. "What the hell... is that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Stephen's voice was calm but firm. "That, Bruce, is the other half of you. The Hulk. Not just a mutation or some byproduct of gamma radiation. He's a second soul, tied to yours. A second personality, born from everything you've tried to repress."
Bruce's breathing—or whatever the spiritual equivalent of breathing was—grew heavier. He shook his head vehemently, his hands curling into fists. "No. No, this—this can't be right. He's not... he's not part of me. He's a monster. He's everything I hate about myself."
"He's everything you've been running from," Stephen corrected, his tone unrelenting. "Your anger. Your fear. Your pain. The Hulk isn't just some outside force, Bruce. He's you. And until you accept that, you're going to keep fighting him—and yourself."
Bruce turned back to the Hulk, who hadn't moved. For the first time, he really looked at the creature. The rage in its eyes was undeniable, but there was something else there, too. A flicker of pain. Of confusion. Of... loneliness.
"I..." Bruce started, his voice cracking. "I don't want this. I never wanted this."
"No one's saying you did," Stephen said gently, stepping closer. "But that doesn't change the fact that it's your reality. You can keep denying it, keep trying to fix something that isn't broken the way you think it is. Or... you can try to understand it. To find balance."
Bruce swallowed hard, his gaze still locked on the Hulk. "Balance?" he echoed bitterly. "How am I supposed to find balance with... with that?"
"You don't have to love him, Bruce," Stephen said, his tone empathetic. "You just have to accept that he's a part of you. Until you do, you're going to keep fighting yourself, and that's a battle you'll never win."
Bruce exhaled deeply, the weight of Stephen's words pressing on him. "I don't know if I'm ready for that. But... I guess I can try."
"It's not easy," Stephen admitted, his voice quieter now. "But it's possible. You're not the first person to struggle with this kind of duality, Bruce. And you won't be the last. But the first step is acknowledging that the Hulk isn't your enemy. He's a part of you. A part you need to face."
Bruce's hands trembled as he stared at the Hulk. The creature's massive chest rose and fell slowly, its glowing green eyes meeting Bruce's with an intensity that made him feel like it could see straight through him.
"I don't... I don't know if I can do that," Bruce admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Stephen placed a steadying hand on Bruce's shoulder, his touch grounding despite the ethereal nature of their forms. "You don't have to do it alone. There's a place that can help you—Kamar-Taj. It's where I trained. They won't cure you, because this isn't something that needs curing. But they can help you find clarity. Understanding."
Bruce didn't respond right away. He stared at the shimmering thread that connected his soul to the Hulk's, his mind racing with a hundred conflicting emotions. Finally, he turned back to Stephen, his expression a mixture of doubt and desperation.
"I'll... think about it," he said softly.
With a wave of his hand, Stephen guided Bruce's soul back into his body. Bruce's eyes shot open, his chest heaving as if he'd just surfaced from underwater. He sat up on the couch, his hands gripping the fabric tightly as he processed what he'd just seen.
"Magic is real, Bruce. And it's not here to replace science—it's here to expand on it. You don't have to believe me right now. But deep down, I think you already know the truth. You've been exposed to forces beyond your comprehension, and you're trying to make sense of it all with the tools you have. But those tools aren't enough."
Bruce stared at the portal for a long moment before finally looking away, his shoulders slumping. "Even if I believed you... I don't know if I can face that. Or if I want to."
Stephen tilted his head slightly, his expression softening further. "I get it. Believe me, I do. But if you ever decide you're ready, if you want to try something different... Kamar-Taj is an option."
Tony, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke up, his tone light but cutting through the tension. "So what I'm hearing is, you've got an invitation to Hogwarts, and all you have to do is say yes."
Stephen shot him a dry look, though his lips twitched faintly. "Always the comedian, Stark."
Tony shrugged, unbothered. "What can I say? It's a gift."
Bruce glanced between them, his brow furrowing. "I don't get it. Why do you care if I go or not?"
Stephen hesitated for just a moment before replying, his voice steady but low. "Because I've been where you are, Bruce. I know what it's like to fight a part of yourself you don't understand. And I know what it's like to think you're alone in that fight." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "You're not alone. Not if you don't want to be."
Bruce hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee as he processed Stephen's words. "And you really think they'd take me in? A guy who turns into a giant green monster when he gets angry?"
Stephen's smile was faint but reassuring. "They've seen worse. Trust me."
The room fell silent, the weight of Stephen's words settling over them. Finally, Bruce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll... think about it."
Tony leaned back in his chair, smirking. "And if you change your mind, Bruce, make sure you pack a wand. Maybe a little pointy hat, too. Also, If he does decide to go, are you going to take him yourself? Or just open one of your fancy portals and shove him through?"
Stephen's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "If Bruce decides to go, I'll personally escort him. It's not exactly the kind of place you can just wander into."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "So you'd come with me? Even after everything?"
Stephen's gaze softened, his tone firm but kind. "If you're willing to take that step, Bruce, then yes. I'll be there."
The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of Stephen's offer hanging in the air. Finally, Bruce nodded, a flicker of something like hope crossing his face. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I'll... keep it in mind."
Stephen inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable but not unkind. "That's all I ask."
Tony, sensing the heaviness in the room, leaned forward with a grin. "Okay, so now that we've covered Hulk therapy and wizard retreats, can we get back to the food? Because I've got to tell you, cold Thai isn't my thing."
Bruce huffed a quiet laugh, and even Stephen's lips curved into a faint smile. "You're impossible, Stark."
"Yeah, but you love me anyway," Tony shot back, picking up his chopsticks.
Stephen watched Bruce silently as he ate, giving him the space to breathe. And though Bruce's gaze was still filled with doubt, there was a flicker of something else there, too—a seed of possibility. Of hope.