"Expect the best, plan for the worst, and prepare to be surprised." – Denis Waitley
Dead End Talks
It's been a little over a month.
In the first weeks, Bruce does his best to help Mitra between his appointments. The poor girl barely speaks or eats, but Bruce tries to gently encourage her and help adjust to her new (temporary) home. It becomes clear pretty quickly, though that he isn't finding her another home in just a few days. The girl had just watched her mother waste away from illness, and the doctor belatedly realized that simply packing her a bag and sending her away with strangers was something he just couldn't do. Right now she needed time, and Bruce was, unfortunately, the one who had to give it to her.
So he waits for her, knowing full well it's a terrible idea, and hopes for the best. The weeks go by slow and quiet, with Mitra recovering bit by bit as the time passed, and Bruce begins to see glimpses of the girl he'd first met at his doorstep. She starts asking him questions about his work and why he's there, and for the most part, Bruce can answer her without too much difficulty. There's no denying Mitra's a cranky little thing, acting more caustic than even he is at times. She's bossy and a little rude, but Bruce can't help but find her grumpy face and huffy attitude kind of endearing for some reason.
(He, of course, tries to ignore that.)
Once Bruce feels sure Mitra is doing better and would be alright moving forward, the doctor began searching for her new home. He finds the women from the funeral in the redlight district pretty quickly and almost immediately recognizes that their courtesy appearance had been just that – a courtesy. He talks to the priest from the funeral to see if he knows anything, but the old man dozes off at almost every other sentence while they quietly sip tea, and can barely remember what he was doing before Bruce came by. He finds nothing on Mitra's father; no forms, gifts, or even a goddamn picture of the man.`
So, Bruce talks to neighbors, but they're all very reluctant to even discuss Mitra, much less take her in. They do reveal, however, a likely tumultuous relationship between Mitra's mother and grandparents, and the result seemed to be the older couple washing their hands completely of their daughter and granddaughter. With no information on them other than that barely useful bit of gossip, Banner hits yet another dead end. Three weeks pass while he searches with no progress, and Bruce was starting to really regret hoping for that damned miracle.
"I want to be doctor."
Bruce pauses midway through putting away his equipment. He'd just come back from his last house call of the night and had barely set his bag down before being hit with a demand. He stares awkwardly at the girl, who's glaring as if he'd already done something wrong by just coming through his own front door.
"…O-Oh…Uhh… That's good?"
Mitra rolls her eyes.
"I want to be doctor. Dr. Bruce, teach me." She demands curtly.
He's long stopped questioning Mitra's odd (and/or rude) habits; like how she hides her old Raggedy Anne Doll under her blankets like it's some sort of shameful secret, or how she kicks at his legs (with just enough force to be annoying) if he ignores her for too long, or like now, when she just says things out of left field and expects an immediate response like it wasn't completely out of left field. Bruce decides pretty quickly that asking about it won't do him much good, only more glaring and kicking probably, so he leaves the girl to her oddities – if for no other reason then so she'd leave him to his.
"While I appreciate that you think I can teach something as complicated as medicine, you'll really have to go to school for that." he says with a nervous laugh and goes back to settling in for the night.
"Do not," Mitra responds in the stilted English she'd been practicing almost since moving in. "And I ask for you teach me because you doctor. I no go to school."
Bruce snatches up the pan of leftovers from the hotplate on his beaten up coffee table and sits down across from her.
"If you want to be a doctor, then you can't just not go to school, Mitra." He says as he takes a spoon-full of dhal. "That's not how it works."
"Say, fake doctor."
He sighs loudly; they've had that conversation more than once by now.
"I am NOT a fake doctor. I'm just not technically a medical doctor. I still know how to help people – that's what counts."
Mitra stands up from her seated position on the floor with her shoulders squared, seeming to think the new height will make all the difference in her case.
"It count! So, teach me to fake doctor like you!"
"Hey, even a 'fake doctor like me' had to go to school to learn how. An education is good for you to have."
"I not need school. I have books!" Mitra exclaimed.
Which is somewhat true, at least. The child had quickly found his collection of books that were for both entertainment and scientific study after moving in and had even brought a few of her own workbooks. Mitra seemed to very much enjoy reading and learning, and Bruce has, for the most part, let her do as she pleased while living his messy shack. She couldn't read any of his books at all really, but Banner quickly found that Mitra was unbelievably stubborn when she wanted something. By this point, she could read at least a small amount of English without his help, and while that was impressive, he really didn't think that counted as a well-rounded education.
"Well, uh, believe it or not, books can't actually teach you everything. And what about friends?" Bruce inquires, switching tactics. "Don't you want to have friends to play with? Someone your own age to talk to?"
The girl scoffs loudly, and the sound is disturbingly out of place coming out of an eight-year old's mouth.
"They stupid."
"…Well, that's not very nice."
"Is true."
Bruce shakes his head over his small pot of lentils.
"I don't really understand the problem here." He says with a dry laugh, passing a hand over his face and combing fingers through his hair. "School can be a good experience for you, and I think you'd really like it if you gave it a chance, Mitra."
"I cannot."
"You like learning. I know you do; I've seen it. Would it really be so bad to go to a place that is exactly for that?" he insists.
"I tell you, I cannot!" Mitra yells angrily.
His brow quirks at her statement, confused. Banner knows that his best option is to let the subject drop, to just let her yell what she wants and move on, but…
"What do you mean you 'cannot'?"
Mitra immediately tenses at his question. She is quiet for a long while, avoiding his eye and pursing her lips together tightly in thought. Neither of them moves, and Bruce tries not to look uneasy in the heavy silence.
"I…uhn…I do not…" She replied haltingly but starts to backpedal. "…I mean…No–"
Her face scrunches up in frustration as she struggles for words. After a few more moments, Mitra sighs in defeat and mumbles an answer.
"আস্থা."
Āsthā.
Trust.
The doctor takes a second to make sense of what she's saying.
"You don't…trust schools?" Bruce asks slowly, with bewilderment in his voice.
Her cheeks momentarily flush at his tone, but she doesn't yell at him for it like he kind of expects her to, and instead simply nods determinedly at the doctor.
"I do not," Mitra replies quietly.
She gives him something of a long, calculated look, almost daring the doctor to say something against her. Then, after another long (uncomfortable) moment, Mitra walks away to her sleeping mat on the far corner of the room; abruptly ending the conversation she had all but demanded of him when he came in.
Bruce doesn't know why he's even surprised.
"…O–k. Good talk, then. Goodnight, Mitra." He says, not even trying to hide his exasperation.
Mitra mutters something that sounds suspiciously like an insult, but Bruce lets it go. He thinks she must have forgotten her original goal in the midst of conversation, as children are wont to do, and he's relieved to not have to argue the issue anymore. It would do neither of them any good to spend more time with each other and get attached. Plus, if she really wanted to be a doctor, there were far better ways to do it than forming some medieval apprenticeship with Banner, of all people. Anyway, he was still hoping (really, really hoping) to find her another place to live, preferably a real honest-to-goodness family and – even more preferably – far away from the ticking bomb that was Dr. Bruce Banner.
He goes to bed thinking he's dodged a bullet and falls asleep with the slight relief that there was at least one thing he didn't have to worry over.