"Bruce, I'm just not quite sure what you're looking for," the exasperated woman said as they stood out on the street corner. "Maybe if we could communicate a little more about what's going on with you, with your job, your family situation…"

"Sorry, I don't really want to talk about that…" Dr. Banner said apologetically, wringing his hands. He did feel badly for wandering all around the greater L.A. area without being able to make any sort of decision. It was just that of all the rentable laboratories the realtor had shown him, none of them felt quite… right. Yes, he'd been out of the country a long time… he should consider the possibility that he was just being too picky and just pick one. Still, there was specific equipment he needed that he felt he couldn't compromise on. Without them, he just wouldn't be able to do his experiments.

"Here's an idea," Grace droned on, "Stop looking for a couple of months. Start again. You've gotta know where you wanna work."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb, frowning. Another couple of months? He'd been able to elude capture and find himself on a civilized corner of the planet for just awhile- he wanted to spend it working, not looking for a place to work.

A breeze picked up from seemingly nowhere and Dr. Banner felt something light hit him in the leg. He lifted an eyebrow, seeing a piece of paper had stuck itself to him, and leaned down to appropriate it. He turned it around to look at the front, readjusting his spectacles. It was an advertisement for a laboratory just a few miles north in Malibu, of all places. A lot of square footage, a considerable list of up-to-date, top-of-the-line instruments, and it doubled as an apartment, which took that added concern out of the equation. Honestly, it sounded perfect. "What about this?" he asked, holding it out to her.

The real estate agent had a good laugh. "A place like that, in a location like that? It's long gone by now."

"Well, the ad's still out; we could at least go look. There's no harm in that, right?" Bruce reasoned, moving towards her car.

She followed after him, continuing to argue. "No, listen, there's ninety vultures and just one carcass…"

The physicist wouldn't hear any of it, getting into the car. Until he was sure it was gone, he wanted to check.

"Alright, fine," Grace gave a huff, pulling out her cell phone as she joined him in the vehicle, "I'll call them."

Within the next several minutes they arrived at the place described by the flyer and it was even more impressive than advertised, and that was just judging from the driveway and landscaping. It definitely had a modern look. Lots of curves and glass. Bruce didn't think he'd ever seen a sleeker looking 'lab' in all his life. It looked like something built and owned by a famous architect from one of those magazines.

"Well, it's pretty obvious why this hasn't rented," Grace was speaking again as she stuffed her cellphone into her purse and shut off the car. "There's no one-year lease," she explained. "It's a month-to-month sublet."

That was odd, Bruce had to admit. Though potentially all the more in his favor, considering he didn't know exactly when he'd have to pick up and leave himself. He shut the car door and proceeded up the walkway to the front entry. "Did they say why?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his slack pockets, curious.

She waved his question off dismissively. "Some business matter. They were pretty close-mouthed about it." The realtor unlocked the domicile and they both entered. The interior blew them both away. Marble and wood flooring, full home-automation controlled by touch-screen panels in the walls, an incredible bar (not that that was in any way high on Dr. Banner's list, but it spoke to the affluence the rest of the house did). He bent over one of the nearest panels to play with the thermostat, though there was significantly more information on the display as well. It was incredible. Whoever had programmed it had to be a genius, that was for sure.

Grace had wandered further in and stopped on the west end of the house. "Wow, what a view…" she breathed. "Bruce," she said his name to beckon him over. Dr. Banner allowed his head to lift from the lure of the fancy technology long enough to come over. A magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean stretched out in front of them, waves crashing against the shoreline the laboratory was built on. "Wow. This is… sensational," she said, still in awe. Her feet carried her over to the sliding door, which she opened to step out onto the deck, Bruce following. The salty air hit his face and danced in his curly locks as he stared into the great blue beyond. It felt like standing out on the edge of the world- which was saying something, considering the number of remote places he'd travelled in his lifetime.

"Oh my God. And it's got private beach access?" Grace went on. Her hands went to her hips. "They didn't do much with it, but, I mean, you really could do something with this. Isn't this gorgeous?" she turned to him.

Bruce gave a nod of agreement. However, he couldn't make his final decision yet. He still needed to examine the lab (which according to the floorplan he'd found on-file in the wall panel, was located in the basement). The nuclear physist turned to go back inside, walking past the baby grand piano to the spiral staircase. He let himself into the laboratory and very quickly he got lost among the equipment, marvelling at all the things right at his fingertips. All he wanted and more. It was hard to resist touching it all and getting to work straight-away. There was so much to do, after all. He pulled out a stool and took a seat.

After several minutes searching the copious instrumentation, the realtor managed to find him. "Well, there's a few places we haven't hit yet…" she began, fussing with her purse. Clearly she expected him to be as unsatisfied with this lab as all the rest.

Dr. Banner ran his palms over the workbench he was seated at. "I like the workbench."

"…The workbench…" Grace repeated incredulously.

"It's a good workbench," he decided with a nod.

"Good workbench," she arched her brow.

Dr. Banner gave a soft groan as he poured another serving of chai tea into the little porcelain cup. He was nursing an awful headache that had seemed to come out of nowhere at one of the most inopportune times, right as he was making a breakthrough, and he wasn't going to let it set him back several hours of work. He carefully set the teapot on the backburner and took the cup to head back down the stairs, blowing on the surface of the liquid as he went. He entered his reprogrammed passcode into the keypad and took a small sip of the hot beverage as the door allowed him entry.

His feet carried him right over to where he'd left off, at the spectrometer where the machine was crunching away at data. He narrowed his eyes to take a look at how it was doing progress-wise on-screen, but his vision crossed and the text became blurred and indistinct. Stubbornly he set his tea down to rub at both eyes with his knuckles, pushing his spectacles up on his forehead. Unfortunately the added pressure just seemed to flare his migraine, causing his brow to furrow in pain, and he took an unsteady seat at the workbench. "Easy, Banner…" he said to himself, propping his head up with a palm and shutting his eyes. "You don't want to tear this place up."

Distantly he heard the spectrometer beep, trying to get his attention and alert him that it had finished its calculations, but by then, Bruce was already half-gone. Vivid images were cluttering his mind, sounds swarming his senses and overloading them such that he was in the lab no longer, but somewhere else… where? He'd been here before. Muggy, hot. It was the jungle. There was the sound of gunshot… of pursuing helicopters… what were they pursuing? Oh right, him.

He broke into a run, his feet leaving large indents in the underbrush, trampling roots and snapping folliage with his arms as he barrelled forward without destination. The rainforest was nothing but a green blur, not unlike himself, and his skin began to bead with perspiration from the exertion and humidity surrounding him. Bullets tore into the trees around him, lodging in the trunks and sending splinters flying. A few managed to pepper his right side and bounce off- the .50 cal were more like beestings than actual wounds- and he gave a tremendous roar, seizing a sizeable rotting log from the ground to hurtle up into the air. The helicopter pilot didn't even get a chance to dodge, the wood taking out the chopper blades and sending the vehicle into a nosedive. It crashed and burst into flames, the heat of the inferno surging through the dense brush; he raised his forearm to cover his face from it, teeth grit. In its place came three more helicopters, already bearing down on him, guns blazing, filling him with greater rage and desperation.

The harder he ran the faster they seemed to be able to fly and keep up with him. His heightened senses caught the sound of rushing of water nearby, barely audible over the continual rat-a-tat-tat. He banked for it, and the jungle began to thin around him until the ground beneath his feet disappeared entirely, revealing a waterfall that cascaded down in a torrential white foam into a natural pool several hundred feet below. Without so much as a second thought, the Hulk dove off the cliff, throwing his arms out to either side to slow the decent of his massive form. He hit the surface hard, driving the air out of his lungs as cold, murky water enveloped him.

Bruce spluttered awake, coughing hard like a drowning man, clutching his workdesk as if it was keeping him afloat.

"There's nothing worth stealing here," a voice sounded behind him. Bruce pivoted on his stool, coming face-to-face quite abruptly with a dark-haired man. He was somewhat short statured, brown eyes set close together in his head, a rather distinguished Van Dyke trimmed into his facial hair, wearing a faded band tee of Black Sabbath. He began to gesticulate with his hands. "There's no money, no drugs- wait, take that back. Okay, fine, there's plenty worth stealing here, but the point is-"

Bruce shook his head violently. "I'm not stealing anything," he interrupted. Was he still dreaming? No, couldn't be. Then how had this guy gotten into the lab? He would've needed the entry key. Not to mention the house itself. As far as he knew the security was top-notch. Maybe a circuit was faulty, or there was some kind of logical loophole. He ought to give it a look later...

"Right, sure, okay," the man rolled his eyes and began to strut around the laboratory like he owned the place. "Listen, I'm sure there's a junior college nearby or something where you can work on whatever little science fair project you've got going. I will give you money for cab fare and a cheeseburger. Nothing more, nothing less..."

"I work here," Banner said firmly, finding himself a little insulted by the derogatory tone. He picked up his glasses and perched them back on his nose. "I live here."

A half-laugh, half-snort erupted from the other man's mouth. "You live here? Seriously? Yeah, sorry, buddy, not really buying that one. You think I just give whoever wants it a tour? You can't be in here. This is my private lab."

Bruce kneeded his temple. God, was it possible that his headache was getting worse? Then again, considering he was having an argument with this smart-mouthed interloper, it probably shouldn't surprise him. "Just when did this become your lab?" he interrogated.

The dark-haired man put his hands on his hips snarkily. "Since I had it built for me, that's when."

"You had it built?" Banner asked incredulously, not believing it for an instant. If he was the original owner, then for sure he'd know it was being rented out. He would have had to move out in the first place.

"Uh, yeah, that's what I just said," the guy rolled his eyes yet again. He motioned his hands out in front of him. "Is that really so hard to believe or am I speaking a different language here?"

"I don't need this," Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?"

"This whole thing… this lab… beach house… it's a rent-scam, isn't it?" Bruce thought aloud, feeling like an idiot that he'd been lured into such an obvious scheme. "Grace was right about it being too good to be true. Five other people probably paid deposits and got the keycodes."

The man scoffed. "Riiight." His voice took on a distinctly sarcastic note. "And I'm sure they all moved their equipment into the laboratory in this little pipe-dream of yours too, huh?"

"I'm not following you," Bruce frowned.

"I'm saying this is all my equipment," the man spelled it out for him. "All of it. That's my reagent dispenser," he motioned around the room as he began listing things off, "That's my analog multimeter. Soldering iron. Demagnetising solenoid. Centrifugal concentrator system. You want me to keep going? Cuz I can and will," the dark-haired man said.

Bruce found himself at a loss for words. After all, these weren't the kinds of things normal people knew anything about. How could he possibly be bluffing? He had to have at least some prior knowledge in the field of science to even be spouting all this. "But how-"

The man pointed over to where Bruce had been working before he fell asleep. "That over there? That's my atomic absorption spectrometer…" he faltered, seeing the display on the device was lit up. "Wait, did you seriously leave it on? How long has it been on?" he demanded.

"Maybe an hour…?" the physicist scratched his head, not understanding his upset.

"Have you ever heard of an off-button?" the scientist said exasperatedly, "It overheats if you run it too long. You're going to fry the circuits!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" Wait, was he apologizing to this stranger now? He wasn't really buying into this, was he? Bruce shook his head.

The short-statured man frowned at the cluttered workbench. "Or a microplate washer, for that matter. I don't care who you are, you're going to clean this up. I'm going to get a bourbon," he announced. "When I get back, everything better be back where you found it." He turned on his heel and started up the curved staircase. "God damn, it's like a chimp started working in my lab. A trained chimp!"

"Wait," Bruce hurried to follow him, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. "Come back, I…" he trailed off when he found the upper part of the house completely devoid of anyone but himself. "Hello…?" he asked the room. He searched a few minutes, turning over every part of the upstairs, but he was unquestionably alone, as if the man hounding him had disappeared into thin air. Frowning, Bruce turned to go back down to the lab.

"Okay, so what's all this about?" Natasha Romanoff sat back in her chair outside the local coffee shop. She folded one leg over the over, scrutinizing him across the two-person table with a lifted eyebrow. "I presume you pulled me away for a good reason."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Bruce gave a nervous rub to his elbows. Natasha and he had a relationship forged more from necessity than 'friendship'- not that they hated each other by any stretch. Though admittedly their tense first encounter in Kolkata hadn't exactly started them out on the right foot, they were more acquainted and on better footing than before. Miss Romanoff had fulfilled her mission in hooking Dr. Banner up with S.H.I.E.L.D., and Bruce had received a promise from the agency that he would be protected during his stint here in the United States; it was a wary compromise. The physicist cleared his throat. "I've sort of been seeing someone. He's been in my lab."

Natasha's head tipped to the side, voluminous red lips pursing momentarily before the corners lifted ever so slightly. "Well, that sounds good, doctor. It's about time you found an assistant to work with you."

Dr. Banner's brow scrunched and he plucked his glasses off his nose to anxiously clean the lenses on his shirt. "I don't think you catch my meaning…"

"Oh, you're the one assisting him?" she guessed again. "Either way, it's a step in the right direction for you. Especially since the last arrangement fell through." The direction she spoke of was part of her assignment; S.H.I.E.L.D. had stressed the imperativeness of hooking him up with different laboratories and fellow scientists so he could 'get back in the field' and resume his career as a researcher. Nuclear physicists had the unfortunate tendency to blow themselves to smithereens, putting them in short supply and high demand. It just so happened Bruce was no longer capable of blowing himself up. Some might have called that 'job stability', but they didn't know what it was like trying to contain 'the Other Guy' constantly. Miss Romanoff continued. "And the fact that you initiated it yourself… I have to say I'm impressed, doctor."

As much as he hated to disappoint her, he had to. Bruce shook his head and placed his glasses back on his face. "I mean I'm seeing someone that's not there," he emphasized.

The red-haired woman frowned. "Like a hologram?"

"No, believe me, I've explored that possibility quite thoroughly and extensively," the physicist said, taking a sip of his coffee from the small hole in the top of the styrofoam cup. He'd scoured the walls top to bottom for projection technology capable of such a convincing replica, and he'd turned up absolutely nothing.

"…A hallucination then?" Miss Romanoff ventured, switching which leg was crossed over the other.

"Yeah," Bruce admitted, "in my lab. A scientist."

"Did he seem intelligent?" she inquired.

"Not really there, Nat," he reminded.

Natasha parsed the information a moment before leaning out over the table somewhat. "So you say you saw this scientist in your lab. What was he doing?"

"Besides maligning me?" the physicist shook his head, made slightly irritated just thinking back on it. "Nothing really harmful I guess…" he shrugged.

"And have you been having any more bad dreams as of late?" she followed up.

Bruce tapped his fingers against his coffee container uncomfortably. How had he known this question was coming? Of course she wouldn't believe what he had to say with his record. "I mean, every once and awhile, but they haven't been that… severe…" he shrugged.

"Don't lie to me, doctor, it doesn't help," she said bluntly, seeing right through him as if he were completely transparent. Miss Romanoff had always been no-nonsense and she wasn't taking any crap now either.

The physicist sighed and rubbed at his eyes underneath his spectacles. "Okay, fine, I've been having multiple nightmares a night. I can barely get any sleep at all; I'm lucky to catch a few hours at a time. But still, I shouldn't be seeing some OCD know-it-all claiming he owns my laboratory." Bruce blinked, realizing Miss Romanoff had gotten out a file folder and was scribbling into it. Concern immediately pooled in his gut. "Why are you writing this down? Are you putting this into my S.H.I.E.L.D. records?" he asked, trying to lean out over the table and see what she was writing.

"It's nothing serious, doctor," she assured him, barely looking up. "Just a necessary status report on your condition."

Dr. Banner groaned aloud, letting his head fall into his hands. "I shouldn't have agreed to come back here…" he bemoaned.

"No, this is where you belong," Natasha said, the sternness starting to drain out of her voice somewhat. "Look around you, Bruce. You can do good here, Fury knows you can." She reached out to touch his arm. "I know you can. Stop swimming around in your own mind… you've been alone and on the run long enough. It's been years since your accident, you've learned to control it, there's no more need for you to hide."

The pep-talk certainly hadn't been something he'd expected to hear from the hardened Soviet woman. Bruce bobbed his head gently in response, fiddling with his coffee cup. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." He smiled at her appreciatively. As for the man he had seen, it probably had been some weird figment of his imagination- a /really/ weird one, seeing as it usually dug things up from his past and he was quite certain he'd never met the man before the encounter in the lab. His mind had never out-and-out invented someone before. Nonetheless, he wouldn't let it distract him any further, he decided firmly. He had too much at stake for that.