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Somewhere in the haze of drug concoctions pumped into Banner's body on a constant drip, his eyes begin to flicker. He's had the most intense dreams ranging from an iguana face that continues to terrify him, a reoccurring dream of a dead dandelion whose white fuzz yanks off slowly in the breeze. And he dreams of the large brown eyes of his mother who has been dead for some time.
"Mom?" Bruce calls out as his eyes flicker open again and his voice echoes off of the metal of his cage. "Mom? I'm thirsty."
*
Betty lays on the floor with her back against the wall. Still dressed in yesterday's clothes with a lab coat overtop for some semblance of posterity or professionalism. She's rumpled, frazzled, and half asleep when the voice cuts into the silence. She slides to a sit and then shuffles her barefoot up to a stand. The pair of high heels next to her are long forgotten. Instead, she slides to he glass that separates the pair of them.
"Bruce, Bruce… it's Betty. Your in SHIELD. In New York… can… can you hear me…" she's already surveying the room dizzily for some source of water.
*
"Betty."
He clearly knows she's there, and he clearly knows who she is, but it's tough to make it through the soup in his mind.
The image flickers in his brain/memory/imagination. A windy day in San Francisco out on a pier not far from Candlestick. He can see the bridge in the distance and the water and sky are very blue except for the white clouds and her brown hair that gets in the way as the wind blows and into her ice cream because they both have ice cream.
"New York." He says it, but he's thinking San Francisco.
*
"Right," Betty offers as she presses her hand to the observation glass that prevents her from getting too close. "Betty," she repeats. She fights the frown, "Do… are you thirsty?" she asks quietly. "I can… I can figure out," her voice cracks, "how to get you some. Just… are, are you okay?"
*
"I feel ok," he says breathlessly.
Inside his cell, Banner sits inside a smaller cocoon. There's a mask over his face and he cannot move. Still, she might be able to see that he's slowly getting to be more coherent.
"Betty."
He says it more normally now. He even smiles faintly.
"Always told you I wanted to bring you to the nicest places."
"This isn't what I had in mind."
*
A vague nod follows the assessment. He's okay.
He's okay.
Her hands both find their way to the glass, trying to get as close as possible, despite the barriers purposefully put between them.
"I work here," Betty manages to almost sound casual. "It's… not so bad." She manages a faint smile. "Probably not the nicest place, but.." she shrugs "…it's a living?"
*
Bruce laughs, and actually looks bright eyed for once. "I'm just glad I didn't hurt anyone. At least I don't remember hurting anyone."
But before he allows her a chance to respond, not being in the full frame of mind he needs to for niceties, he goes on. "Do you remember that time outside of Alamagordo after we stopped to camp and that beatnik asked me if I wanted peyote?" He begins to laugh. "And I thought it was a mexican appetizer?" His laugh begins to be more intense after that. "I'm even higher than that right now."
*
Bruce's laugh puts Betty at easy. Her hand falls from the glass and her head cants to the side. Her lips part to respond to the assertion about hurting anyone, but she's easily distracted by the memory. Her eyes find some of their old sheen at the memory. She presses her fingers to her lips to suppress a vague chuckle; it feels inappropriate. Even if Bruce is laughing, it doesn't feel right.
But the memory is easy to follow. "I remember you thought your hands were growing. Ad that the clouds were marshmallows… you really wanted to eat those marshmallows." Finally she stifles her own chuckle.
Her hands drop to her sides. ""…is it a good high, at least?"
"
*
"You know," he says in between laughs. "I've had a hankering for smores ever since."
After the smiling fades her looks at her more fully. "It is. I feel amazing." But then, his eyes are sad. "Betty, I'm so happy you're here. But it's bittersweet. I am so sorry I have put you through this. I would give anything I have for things to be different."
*
"Good. You deserve to feel amazing," Betty observes softly. Her hands retreat into the pockets of her lab coat. Her eyebrows lift and her tongue clucks lightly, "Hey, hey, hey," her voice softens and she nods lightly, "It's not…" her cheeks flush, "….you didn't exactly … I care about you. All I've wanted is to help you." She swallows hard, "To.. be close to you."
*
"You deserved better and you know it," Bruce says faintly. "Best years of your life are gone and you're sitting in some prison hanging out with your loser ex boyfriend." He sighs. "I'm so sorry, Betty."
*
"Hey!" Betty calls back. "That's not fair," she chides softly. "I'll forgive it because you're drugged. But my best years are whatever I make them. And when I want them. And…" her eyes lid lightly "…if I recall there have already been some good ones." Her smile turns bittersweet. Her head shakes lightly, "You don't need to apologize to me. I'm not looking for that. I was never looking for that." Her lips quiver, but she resolves to keep her emotions as locked down as possible. SHe's a physician, she delivers bad news all the time.
*
"You haven't wanted it, no. But what you needed was something better. And I really wanted to be that for you. If I could have, I would have given you anything," Bruce says sadly.
But the sadness can't linger for long. Because for the first time in a long time he isn't stressed about turning green and wrecking a joint. He's relaxed. "Thank you for coming, though. Let's talk about something. Anything other than this. Let's talk like we used to, huh?"
*
The remarks about what Betty needs earn Bruce a discerning hum. "I just wanted you. You know that don't you?" Her eyes squint back at him, but then the subject changes and she follows the bunny trail.
Her lips twitch into a sad sort of smile; she's not high — flipping from one subject to the next isn't so easy. Her ears cross over her chest and she leans her side against the glass. "What do you want to talk about?" her lips hitch higher on one side. "I remember flirting madly with you over samples? Not sure I have any of those here…"
*
Bruce smiles and his head hits the back of his sarcophagus as he looks at the top of his cage. "Oh, man, I remember that. There was that guy in the office where you used to work. I…I can't remember his name, but he always said you were flirting with me. I kept putting it off just assuming he was wrong." He laughs. "Not the most observant."
*
"Stuart Gallagher," Betty fills in the blank easily enough. "He was perceptive." Her cheeks flush, "Honestly, I didn't think you were remotely interested. I worked hard to turn your head at all." Her face reddens further and she giggles like some former version of herself. "I remember when I finally got up the nerve to tell you that I was interested in you. It was a last ditch effort. I was so sure you already knew how I felt about you, but the surprise on your face when I took the direct approach…" she laughs again.
*
"I'm really sorry about that," Bruce says with a smile. "I had put the thought of dating anyone so far out of my head."
"I don't know if you realize this, but I'm kind of a nerd."
"Surprised. Floored. Didn't know what to say. I think I almost passed out. God, that was fun. Those days were so fun."
*
"And I don't know if you recognize this, but you're in good company, Doctor Banner," Betty chuckles lightly. "I'm not exactly the ideal woman. I'm pretty sure the General hoped boarding school would turn me into a lady. Apparently had the opposite effect." Her eyes sparkle with mischief.
Her nose wrinkles, "I was pretty sure you were having an aneurysm. But then you picked your jaw up off the floor and.. well. History." She smiles.
*
"You are the perfect woman. You are what little girls will wish to be like in 20 years. Don't ever forget that. /History/." He repeats her words. "History is what the old ways are."
Bruce frowns, "I tried to kill myself. I figured that was the only way to save others. It didn't work. It won't work. The only way I can fix this is to fix him. To make him go away."
*
"I'm far from perfect. You of all people should know that," Betty offers quietly. "And I'm definitely not the General's ideal daughter. He made that pretty clear some time ago." He sighs softly.
The last causes her smile to falter. It's jarring information when not high. "I… know. Well," her eyes turn upwards. "I assumed." Her lips turn down and she swallows hard, "I got your note." The last has her emitting a soft sigh, "I… was relieved it didn't work." Her eyebrows draw together. "When I heard — " her shoulders slump. "I was so relieved."
"How can I help?"
*
"Well, the General and I disagree on a great many things. Because I find you to be very ideal."
"My note," Bruce sighs. "I wish you hadn't gotten it. I wish you hadn't known." He pauses, and looks away. "There's nothing I can really do to change that now, though. As far as how you can help, I don't really know. Any medical way or any psychological way for either preventing him from coming out or helping me control him. I mean…at this point I'd settle for anything. But everything I've tried has failed. And when it fails, it fails spectacularly."
*
"Bruce, it wrecked me," the honesty is painful. "I…" Betty's eyes lid lightly and she struggles to find words. "I…" she chastises herself for her cowardice, "I care about you." Her mind, heart, and soul ache for a time when she was bolder. Braver. But the memory of the girl she once was — blatantly expressing her feelings for Bruce Banner seems to tip the scales. Even a little.
When she speaks again, it's a whisper, "I love you. The thought that you were gone… I was so relieved…" Her chin drops and her eyebrows knit together sharply.
"Let me in. Please. Let me in again. I know you thought you were protecting me by pushing me away, but you'd never hurt me. Not in any form." Of this Betty seems convinced.
*
"I want to. I want to let you in because I love you, too." Bruce tilts his head. "And in a funny way this is the best thing that could have happened to me. I almost wish I had thought of it on my own."
He looks around at the facility, "For the first time in ages I am safe from the world and the world is safe from me. And you're here." He actually smiles a genuine smile. Like the old days. "I think I could be happy here."
*
"I missed you," Betty hums quietly. "I… hate seeing you behind glass and metal, and… who knows what else." Once more she lifts her hand to the glass. "But you haven't seemed like this in a long time." It's a strange admission. "It's good to see you being.. you."
She chews on her bottom lip. "Happiness is a strange thing, but if you could find it… even here…" she manages a flicker of a smile. "I guess it could be hospitable. A little art to break up the mundane walls — " yes, she is thinking of decorating.
*
Bruce laughs, "And what would you put up if you could put up any painting?" It strikes him as the most important question in the world and his eyes lock onto her large round brown ones. They have always been his favorite of her features. "I miss you too. Seeing you from behind glass is better than not seeing you."
*
Betty's nose wrinkles, and playfully, in a way that Bruce is all-too-familiar, she notes, "Nothing too kitschy." She motions to one of the walls adjacent, "I have a print of a Salvador Dali in my living room I rather like." She shoots him a half-smile, but as his eyes meet hers, their warmth reflects that smile further. "Swans Reflecting Elephants. I can't really explain why I like it, but I do. It's colourful and different and doesn't make sense. But somehow, in the not making sense, I find… weird peace." She rolls her eyes, "I sound ridiculous."
*
Bruce smiles faintly and shakes his head, "You don't sound ridiculous at all." It's probably a pipe dream. He hasn't talked to anyone here, but it's not likely they'll let him hang much of anything. But he loves the idea.
*
"I do," Betty objects with a smirk. "But that's alright. I think I like it because growing up everything had to make sense." She inhales a sharp breath. "Right angles. Sharp lines. Nothing extemporaneous. Always the crisp decided fate." She shoots him a small grin. "And while I'm a scientist and I like answers, there's something strangely reassuring about mystery and knowing I'll never know everything." Her smile warms.
"I'll colour you pictures and tape them to the glass so you can see." She shoots him another grin. Betty Ross, a problem solver.
*
"I can't wait. You'll come to see me again tomorrow then?" Bruce asks hopefully. "I mean, I don't even know where we are. Is it a long way for you? I don't want to put you out. You said you work here, right?"
*
The question merits an easier grin, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." Betty finally drops her hands back to her sides and her he'd shakes, "It's not far. Believe me, it's really not far." And it's not like she goes home most days anyways. On-call rooms were designed for workaholics who doze during shifts. "And you wouldn't be putting me out. I think it'd be challenging to keep me away."
She takes a single step back from the glass, she should actually go do work or something like it. "Bruce… I'm glad you're here."
*
Bruce nods, looking at her for a long time as if trying to memorize every feature for the hours in between. "I am too."