spit_it_out | (no subject)

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After his first foray into the bar, his thoughts are a little more ordered. People were less hostile than he thought they'd be. It helps.

But it doesn't address the underlying issue. Not the science of trying to get rid of the Other Guy, but his own lack of ability to deal with it. And now he knows for sure that killing himself isn't an option. He also knows that that thought shouldn't be the agony it is.

He's always been the kind of man who fixes problems. It's increasingly clear that he's not doing very well at managing that on his own. And besides, it's logical. It's law, isn't it? Someone turns up at a hospital as a suicide attempt, they're automatically given a therapist.

He leaves a note at the bar for Charles. He doesn't know if he can trust him, but Guppy seems to think he knows his stuff. He can only try. If it doesn't work, he'll just have to try something else.

He asks for the guy to come to the cell in the office. He's started to hate it, but at least it's secure. There's always the chance this could go very wrong.

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He remembers. And no, he doesn't like the idea of it much. But, needs must.

'Can you draw a line beyond which you won't, or can't, go? Say, based on age - like, nothing before when I was eighteen, something like that? Or is it that you just choose not to read certain thoughts that come up?'

"I'm not going to go into your memories without your permission as my normal method is to hear thoughts as they're thought. I could filter out specific ones as they arise,"

Going into memories is something that can be helpful but he doesn't do it normally.

He takes a long moment to think this over. His fingers fiddle with pens and pencils on the desk as he does.

'I don't want to get into any family stuff. It's not relevant, so I'd like you to filter that out.'

He has no doubt thoughts on it will arise, because it absolutely is relevant. But he won't go there, and he'd feel a hell of a lot more secure if the guy promises it won't be an issue.

It bothers him intensely that he has no way of knowing whether his wishes will be met. But if he has to trust someone, he'd rather it be someone that could help.

'Have you been here for the last few days?'

"I can do that,"

He'll have to observe to see how the family thoughts come up but he won't speak of them or connect them to anything else.

"Yes, I have. I felt when you entered."

He nods, a little relieved.

'So you know about...him.'

That saves an explanation or two.

'What did you feel?'

"Anger, pain in some of the most concentrated forms I've ever felt. A storm of emotion,"

He ended up with an awful headache but he won't add that, Bruce doesn't need something else to blame himself for.

He looks away.

Then stands up, and gestures to the cell.

'Can we go in there? I promise you'll be safe. I'll leave the door open. Just...if anything happens, get out quick.'

Baby will take care of the rest.

Charles nods and stands up, given time and working with Bruce, he probably could exert some control on his other side, but that will come later,

"Yes, wherever you're most comfortable."

He brings a chair in for Charles, and sits on the cot. Then gets up, and starts to wander around. There's nothing really to fiddle with, but he can't sit still.

After a while, he thinks he should probably find somewhere to start.

'It's not about Him. Why I'm talking to you, you know? I've been living with that for more than five years now, and I was starting to get a lid on it.'

His mind calls him - if not a liar - then expresses extreme doubts.

'I lived in Brazil, I got a job, I didn't have an incident for over a year. It only came back when the government caught up with me.'

The face of General Ross is clear, along with some very pointed annoyance with the guy.

'But that's not - the point is, I don't think I can keep doing what I've been doing. But I can't get out of it either. And I'm not...well, I tried to fix it a few days ago, and you saw what happened.'

"What would be the ideal situation for you? If everything came together as you would like it to. It doesn't matter how impossible it seems, I want to know what you want. Then we can figure out what's possible and what steps along the way make the most sense,"

Charles watches Bruce's hands and pulls a pencil from a jacket pocket which he hands to Bruce.

The gesture makes him smile wryly, but he takes the pencil all the same.

'Thanks.'

The question is easy.

'I want to be rid of it.'

"Is that possible or is what happened like my mutation, a part of you?"

'I don't want it to be part of me.'

This comes out in a harsh tone, a statement of pure emotion. He hates it so badly, it's almost a physical pain. And everything's raw at the moment.

He takes a breath, and paces by the clear wall.

'I know it's not possible yet. I haven't found a solution, and I'm the...well, there's no one in the world who knows as much about this stuff as me.'

There's no pride when he says this. It's just the truth.

'But that doesn't mean I'm giving up. Another scientist and I had some success in suppressing an isolated incident. But the data for that is gone. If I can find it, I might be able to expand on it.'

He is mentally refusing to accept any notion that it might actually be impossible. But there's still a sense of hopelessness about the whole endeavour.

Charles winces at that statement and adjusts his shields as he nods,

"Then if there's a way you'll find it. I know my science is from earlier than your time but my work is in genetics. I'm glad to help in that aspect as well as helping you to understand and contain until you find a solution."

'I'd appreciate that.'

Though he's not sure genetics would help. It isn't a hereditary thing. It's cellular - but then, his DNA has been effected, so he'll take what help he can get.

'But that's not why...I mean, it's not the real reason I asked to speak with you.'

"I know but its another aspect that I can help with."

'And if you can, I'd accept it.'

He stops moving, and pulls his hands down his face. This cell brings back last night - not knowing if he changed, or if the whole thing was a nightmare, or if he really did have a conversation with the Other Guy. He's scared.

'I've spent the last five years trying to - I guess you liken it to the stages of grief. Denial, then anger...I don't remember the others. I know the road is supposed to end with acceptance, but I can't see any way through to that.'

Which is where he's hoping Charles can really help.

"Acceptance takes a lot of time and circumstances to be reached. Let's start with where you are now and how to best move forward. What will help you feel closer to a new normal?"

He comes back and sits on the cot. A tired blink.

'Not being sad that I failed to kill myself would be a start.'

Charles looks Bruce in the eye and says quietly,

"This may seem silly to you but it will help. Tell me all the good in your life. No matter how small."

The thought of trying this cracks something in him. It's not dissimilar to Ben Grimm's unintended punch in the gut earlier.

'OK.'

'No one got hurt on Friday.'

That's very good.

'Molly cares enough to try and help.'

He appreciates it, even though he doesn't even know how to help himself.

'I spoke to X, and she seemed to get it.'

Something he's never had before.

And that's all he can think of.

"What about the fact that you understand what's going on? Also you know a solution is possible. Then there's the fact that I know other people care. Milliways is a small world and you're a good man who has effected it in the time you've been here. X and Molly have told you they care but they're not the only ones. And the one that I constantly come back to, you're not alone in this. Yes, you're the only one with this particular problem but you've found X and there will be others who understand. Also you are free to make your choices. The government isn't here to decide, only you do."

He can't, with any honesty, say he believes he's affected anyone here.

'Yeah, it's good that I understand what's going on.'

He'll readily admit to that.

'But it's not here that's the problem. Having a life here isn't a priority, Charles. I have to live back at home. And I have no job there, and the government is watching wherever I go.'

He doesn't say, and no family, and no friends left, but Betty's face is clear in his mind. Both as she normally looks, and how the Hulk left her - unconscious, and covered in blood.

There's a whole lot of pain that comes with that image.

"Having a life is the problem, full stop. You've started to build one here and you can take some of those lessons into your world. Yes, the government, they always try to watch what they don't understand. I'm currently having to work with them as they have more resources than I do but they don't get to interact first with mutants. How can you exert control on them? What do you know that they don't? Use that. Set those boundaries and then decide what you wish to do."

He's uneasy at Charles mentioning his government work - it's an ingrained instinct by now, to the point where he'll try his best not to look a street cop in the face. He can understand the need for resources, because that was one of the reasons he worked with them. But he'll never forget the way they turned on him.

'My control comes from the fact they're scared of Him. They've thrown practically every weapon they've got at him, short of a nuke. He just keeps going.'

Even when he's down, and tired, the Hulk won't die.

'I know more about the science of it than they do - and some people want that knowledge to make more of him. I won't agree to that, obviously, which is why they won't leave me alone.'

In short, control comes from the Hulk being indestructible (so far), and him running around the world so they can't find him.

Charles frowns, its an awful stalemate,

"Yes, I see the problem. Its a stalemate. The only answer I can see at the moment is doing what you can to live even if they are there. Its your life, not the Other Guy's, not theirs, its yours, you need to do what you want with it. Yes, I know that's easier said than done but you're not alone and we'll figure out how you can do it."

'I know. And I'm sorry. It's not...I don't expect you to come up with an answer to it.'

He thinks, but does not say, that he has given up trying to find an answer to it.

'The only thing I want, is to...'

A mess of thoughts then, because he doesn't really know. Betty, and a science lab. A pizzeria, and someone laughing, and friends, and a brief glimpse of a gravestone, and too much pain, which he immediately shuts off. The Arctic, and a gun resting in a huge green palm. The noise of an ice cliff falling into the sea. The vision of a thousand tons of ground cracking and falling away in front of him.

'I want to be happy I'm not dead. I'd take that. That's it. You know? But you're right, there are people here who know what it's like, and I'm glad about that. It's better than nothing. It's better than it was before.'

Think positive, right? Even if he doesn't feel it, yet. Maybe that'll come.

"And it will keep getting better, Bruce. This is the first step and I don't know how many others there will be, but you're not alone in taking them,"

The images hurt and Charles frowns at Bruce's pain.

'Yeah.'

He looks down at the ground. Adrenaline leaves him suddenly, and he's tired. But at least his mind feels more clear.

'I think I'm done.'

"Okay, whenever you want to talk again just leave me a note or come find me,"

Charles leans slightly forward to offer his hands or himself for a hug, he knows how important touch can be but its also hard to ask for.

He's pretty useless with contact, but he holds out a hand to shake. Without hesitation even, which is rare.

'Thanks. I mean it - it...it does help to talk about it.'

Awkward.

'If you leave your bill with the bar, I'll take care of it.'

Charles presses his hand firmly, "I will."

He'll have to figure out what's appropriate as he'd rather not change but knows it helps Bruce.

'I'll see you, Charles.'

He leaves straight away, and heads for the outside. Space is important, and he's got some stuff to think over.

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