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Bruce woke up and things were fuzzy. Things came over him in waves. Acting like a fool in front of guards. Trying to help with gamma radiation. Peg being shot. It gets worse and worse the longer he things about yesterday. In a little while he gets to be updated that it wasn't Peggy, that it was some alien. The bigger problem is that they don't know where to find her. So, in his cell, Bruce is in a sad funk.
*
And not far away, the cells have become increasingly occupied. Although, thus far, others in the prison have been relatively quiet. That's not to say that they don't, occasionally, make noises, but overall, the quiet seems to permeate the prison.
While Bruce does see guards and others from time to time, few folks just stroll in. Even less rap gently on the wall when they make an entrance. Which probably means that Bruce has an idea as to his company before she enters his field of vision.
Dressed in a white lab coat overtop a black dress with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, Betty Ross treads into the cell. The stethoscope around her neck, and the mishmash of pens protruding from her pocket suggest she's 'at work' instead of merely at work. But the plate she carries with a single cupcake on it is definitely not work-related.
She manages a tight smile for Bruce, but the deep circles beneath her eyes, tight ponytail and paled skin speak more to her state of mind than much else. "Hi Bruce," she manages to sound bright enough. "I… it's devil's food cake. Homemade." Pause. "Well, Betty Crocker." Her gaze turns up towards the ceiling. She studies him a moment and takes a step back from whence she came, "I can — " she motions back towards the door with her head " — if you'd rather be alone."
*
Bruce gives a shake of his head as he steps out from under the shadow of the overhead shelving and comes out towards her. "No, it's good to see you." He smiles faintly at the cupcake. "Devil's food." He pulls a seat out so he can sit by the edge of the glass surface. "It's funny that they made the bad one taste better."
*
The smile eases some, becoming more genuine as Bruce steps towards her, and Betty responds in kind by further entering the small room. She carefully sets the plate in front of him. "Funny and probably telling about human nature," Betty chuckles lightly. "The sinful one is the best." Her eyes narrow slightly, "Or, maybe, it's that sinful things have all the delight in the moment?" Her smile turns lopsided and fades slightly. "I wish I could say this is just a social visit." Her chin drops slightly. "But I know you know what happened yesterday. Or… some semblance of it."
*
Bruce sits and rubs his face, "If delight in the moment is a sin, send me to confession. It's good to see you." He nods a bit as she talks. "I saw it on the cameras."
*
"I think it depends on the nature of the delight, Bruce," Betty attempts to be coy, but the flush in her cheeks tells a different tale than the one in her words. "It's always good to see you." She reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. "I miss you when I'm not here." She shrugs.
Back to the issue at hand, the smile falters, "Things are a mess. A science crew was transporting reactive materials to the base under construction when someone in the labour crew attacked them, and caused gamma radiation to fill the area. This same someone proceeded to kill a woman we thought to be Peggy Carter, but wasn't along with other agents." Her shoulders slump some, "He was exposed to gamma radiation. He's now green. I… don't really know what to do. He's not huge. His forehead is… elongated. And, according to personnel files, he definitely wasn't green before the accident, and looked, well, normal."
*
"I miss you too. It's my main reason for someday wanting to get out of here." Bruce's glassy eyes roll around wearily. "So he's green too. Looks like it has a different effect on everyone. Let's think back to me. What changes were in me…biologically…?"
*
"Exactly. It's different, but it's similar enough. And the cause seems to be there," Betty reaches around for one of the plastic chairs in the room and sits across from Bruce. "My memory is spotty. And if there's any way you could remember better — " she cringes slightly. "I'm sorry. I mostly remember cellular changes, but they weren't stable. Were they?" She squints. "How it works on a cellular level continues to baffle me."
There's a pause as her chin drops. "And… I owe you an apology in advance. I had them change the dosage on your meds here. I'm sorry — I just… I needed …" her cheeks redden further "…you're the expert here. You know better than anyone. And I need you lucid enough. I promise I'll return it to whatever you need to feel safe and secure and confident. I promise."
*
Bruce shakes his head, "You have nothing to apologize for. It makes total rational sense. And to be honest, it's a little bit nice to be thinking more clearly. In any event, from what I understand, it has something to do with adrenaline. When that gets into my system it works as a catalyst for everything. The cells change, but only temporarily. I've feared that it could be a Pavlov's dog sort of thing, to, because I will sometimes turn way before there's any way that the adrenaline could kick in."
*
"I should've asked first," Betty says earnestly. "You're here because you choose to be. You chose to come here and be in this place. You get a say in what that looks like." Her eyebrows lift. She nods at the mention of adrenaline, "That makes sense. I know we linked it to your heart rate, hence the monitor. And we've discussed it before, and it kicks in and prevents you from injury, correct?" Her eyes narrow slightly.
"But then, what it's doing to this fellow confuses me. It confounds everything I know. Already, twenty-four hours later, he's read every book available to anyone in this facility and has requested new ones. It's this strange academic veracity. And I wouldn't find it odd if it weren't for his background. He's not… he's not a scholar. Our files suggest he's a construction worker. No training outside of that. No obvious interests outside of that aside from labour rights." Which is how it all started in the first place.
*
"I have chosen to be in here, but that doesn't mean I disagree with the decision. Timing is of the essence in all things. I trust you to make the best decisions on my behalf all the time. It's when I'm safest, to be honest. In any event, we have to assume that exposure treats everyone differently. Perhaps this man has had his brain augmented"
*
"I'm sure you make better decisions than I do," Betty offers in return as her head shakes slightly. "Besides, you chose to be in here — that's not a decision I would've made on your behalf. And I think it was a good decision." At least it seems to be. "I conceded as much to — " she frowns. " — I don't know where Peggy is."
Her lips purse and she goes back to the topic at hand. "Right. Enhanced mental acuity and capacity. The elongated head could be part of that. I need to get him into the lab for more testing." She finally tugs the glasses from her nose. "I think he's likely to be here long-term, but I'd like to resolve his gamma radiation exposure if we can. It's possible that if we get it under control we can transfer him to a regular prison to await trial. As it stands, I'm not even sure about letting him out for testing." She pinches the bridge of her nose and manages a weary smile.
*
"We'll find her. Someone will find her," Bruce says, as hopeful as he can.
"Perhaps the cells themselves have become supercharged. Or maybe they're just physically bigger or multiplying. One thing I would worry about is if he is already expanding his cranium, at some point that could rupture and it'd be a heck of a time trying to save him."
*
"Annnnnd that is something I hadn't even considered," Betty replies with a sigh. "New problem." Her eyebrows lift and her smile turns sheepish. "My goodness, this case is surreal. He hasn't gone back to a regular colour either. I'm not sure what to make of it." She rubs her temples lightly. "And believe me, Doctor Banner, I've seen many things already. This one.. " her head shakes. "The exposure was in a gaseous state. It's possible that even the delivery system made a difference." Her teeth play at her bottom lip. "If I bring in test results, are you willing to go over them with me? Honestly, Bruce, I'm at a loss." Her lips twist to the side, "Sam Sterns' case baffles me. I don't even know how to start treatment. He has no telltale signs of radiation sickness either. No nausea. No burns. Nothing."
*
"Well, it's good that he has no symptoms of pain. You'd think if your head was expanding like that it would be extremely painful. So that's a good sign. And I would be happy to review the data with you. Any way I can help you, Betty. You know I'd do anything for you. This is small."
*
"Right. Good. Good," Betty nods to reassure herself rather than Bruce. "And thank you." The offer of help, and its rather all-encompassing nature causes a very different smile to win Betty's expression. Two deep dimples accompany a bashful smile that twitches as she attempts to find some semblance of professionalism. And she utterly fails as she notes, "Bruce, when you're no longer here… when you don't this place is necessary anymore… I've been thinking…" her eyes drop to the floor. "…would you… I mean, if you wanted to, and only if you wanted to, and I'm worried I'm being too… but there's…" her smile remains and she continues to stare at the floor. "…I'd like you to consider moving into my apartment." And then, as if the rest wasn't obvious, she adds, "With me, I mean. I really need to keep my apartment, finding a rent-controlled apartment in New York isn't exactly something a person gives up, but share, I mean that would be…" her cheeks flush. "Think about it. Don't answer now. There's time. Plenty of time."
*
"Yes," Bruce says. "I don't want to be away from you. And the first thing I want to do when I get out of here is to take you to California and go spend some time on the ocean. And go wine tasting. And then drive down the Pacific Highway and go to the Joshua Tree park."
*
The answer causes the good doctor to virtually melt. "Oh," Betty replies warmly, "that sounds perfect. And lovely. I want to experience everything life has to offer with you." She can feel her face becoming warmer. "We'll sort it all out. Together. The Sterns case. Your case. How to manage all of it." Her eyes dance with unmarred hopefulness. "Here we are, on the cusp of a brand new year," it is new year's eve after all, "and 1964 is full of promise." She grins at him. The grin subdues some: "Just… please don't push me out again. Please?"
*
"I won't. I promise. I thought it would be a way I could protect you. I was wrong, and I'm sorry for that," Bruce admits. "There will be no easy ways of getting rid of the Hulk. If he can be gotten rid of at all."
*
There's a slow nod that follows the words, "I know." Betty's fingertips lift to graze Bruce's cheek. "I know you've said you need me, but I need you too. This isn't a one way street." There's a long pause. "I still don't think he'd hurt me. Honestly. I read the case file from when they picked you up," after he'd mentioned it during their chess game, "and he really does seem to have logic. He reasons through things. He thinks about things. It's incredible, really." She manages that same semi-sheepish smile, "Maybe we just need to accept him. Maybe." She shrugs. "Regardless, I'm not going anywhere."
*
"It could end up being a better way of dealing with him. What we have been trying doesn't work." Bruce shrugs and shakes his head, "I'm not going anywhere."
*
"Just know that I'm here. For the long haul." Betty leans forward and lightly kisses Bruce's cheek. "Just you mind that."
*
As her lips touch his cheek, Bruce's eyes close as he savors it until the next time she comes back. "I will. And do." After a brief pause he asks. "Beard or no? They said they will give me a razor. I tried to tell them I'm no threat to myself, but only now are they starting to trust me."
*
"I have to admit I miss your smooth cheeks," Betty offers with a one-shouldered shrug. "But if you prefer the beard — it really is the professorial look. All you need is a jacket with elbow patches, a pipe, and a bottle of scotch and you'll be doing your best Professor Reiman impression." Her eyebrows lift, "Did I ever tell you he almost failed me in advanced biology?"
*
"He was a dick and failed almost everyone. I think that only proved your worth," Bruce says with a bit of a snort. "I'm going to shave. It's a weird power thing, I think. And I think it's important for my psyche to choose things that can help me be powerful."
*
"Right!? I swear he lived to torture his students. And hated anyone that got close to pushing the boundaries of his own work," Betty shakes her head slightly. "And good. I like the idea of you being clean-shaven again. You'll look more like you." Her lips twist to the side. "And, if you like," she sucks on the inside of her cheek, "I could give you a haircut. I promise it'll probably be better than last time." Probably is likely an important word here.
*
"Once bitten, twice shy," Bruce says with a laugh. "If you mess up, I'm going to shave it and you'll have to deal with it."
*
"Oh that's painful! No shaving it! If you like it long, grow it out and you'll channel Professor Thurgood — the drama instructor of that elective I had to take in my junior year. He encouraged us to enjoy some grass before rehearsing any Shakespeare. Seemed to think it'd help the performance." She chuckles.
*
"Not really that long. You can cut it, it'll be fun," Bruce says with a smile. "I don't think I'd really want to look much like Thurgood. I never had him, obviously, but I know of him. No thank you."
*
"Yeah, you might think differently if you saw the way his female students seemed to hang off him," Betty's nose wrinkles. Evidently she's not in their ranks. "I swear, he must've been drugging them even outside of class." She chuckles again. "Good. I'll get some scissors and next time I come by, we'll work on that hair. Honestly, you'll look like yourself again." The prospect brings clear delight to her eyes.
*
"I already have the gal I want without having to have resorted to long hair and Shakespeare. I'll take my chances." Bruce smiles, "I'll look forward to getting my hair cut, then. First time I think I've ever said that."
*
Betty beams at that. "Hopefully not for the haircut, but for the company. Else, the pressure may be more than present company can handle." A modicum of mischief glimmers in her eyes. There's a pause and she notes: "You know, if you wanted to have some hands-on lab time, I could probably arrange that. If you wanted." She shrugs slightly. "If you don't, that's okay too. I'll keep coming by to infringe on your solitude."
*
"Well, I think I'd like that. I mean, they seem to be giving me more and more leeway as they trust me more. I do get rather bored when I'm not high. So I'll do janitorial work if they want me to. I don't really care." Bruce shrugs his shoulders and smiles, "I mop a mean floor."
*
"Oh, I know, I've seen you work~" Betty virtually sings in return. "But, in all seriousness, I could really use the help on this. Plus, I can't imagine anyone saying no. It seems ridiculous to have the gamma radiation expert in the building and not work with him on this case." She grins at him. "And, it means I can spend more time with you during actual work hours. Which… that seems like a win," the playful lilt to her tone is rather telling.
A few cells away, just down the hall, a loud voice calls rather dryly, "Doctor Ross, if you're done flirting, I have finished this text on biomolecular physics and would appreciate new reading material!"
Betty rolls her eyes, and her voice hushes, "Sterns." Her head shakes slightly and her eyes roll. "At least he called me Doctor Ross," she murmurs softly.
*
"If you can swing it, I'm there. Whatever you need, I'll help with," Bruce says with a smile before it falters when they're interrupted. "Sounds like a sweet guy."
*
With another roll of her eyes Betty straightens in her seat, "The sweetest." She stifles a chuckle behind a fan of fingers. "Geez. You'd think I was the librarian rather than his attending physician. Seriously."
*
"Best looking librarian I've ever seen." Bruce shrugs his shoulders, "Or attending physician for that matter."
*
A smirk tugs at Betty's lips, "You're only saying that because I'm coming up with things for you to do." She rises from her chair with a small sigh, "Apparently duty calls," the smile softens some. She leans forward to press a light kiss to Bruce's forehead. "Happy New Year."
*
Bruce gives her a noncommittal smirk, one of a guilty man. "Happy New Year Betty. Love you." He looks to the small table next to his bed and at the newspaper.
*
The smirk earns one in turn followed by a sharp lift of Betty's eyebrows. "Love you too," she says softly as she trails to the door. "Enjoy your cupcake." She sighs softly and then disappears from the cell, back to whatever mundane task Sterns bellows about. "And… do shave. I think the beard could get in the way of the lab," she calls back.