That Radium Glow

Chapter 4

The gentle curve of Lake Shore Drive, illuminated with glowing yellow streetlamps, clung like a pearl necklace to the black void of the lake. We drove north in contemplative silence. Rogers and I would wait at my place until Coulson could figure out the jurisdictional mess of Banner's case.

I had the feeling it was going to be a long day and we'd have to look the part of respectable Feds, so I laid out a fresh shirt and my least wrinkled suit. Rogers surprised me by busying himself in the kitchen while I showered, and when I emerged, clean and dripping, the smell of coffee and bacon had permeated my little flat. My stomach rumbled hungrily while I dressed and shaved.

The telephone rang, and I heard Rogers answer it through the bathroom door. By the time I'd rinsed and toweled off, he'd hung up. Two plates of bacon and eggs, one half-eaten, were set out with the precision of a military mess on the table. I took a seat in front of the untouched plate and dug in with satisfaction. There was something about hot food that just made a guy feel generally at peace with the world. I was already feeling a lot more human, even before coffee.

Rogers emerged from the kitchen in his shirtsleeves with two steaming mugs of coffee. "Gee, Cap, you cook for all your dates?" I quipped.

A shadow flashed over Rogers' face, so quickly I thought I'd imagined it. "One time offer; new partners only," he retorted with a smile, but I could tell his heart wasn't in the banter. I raised an eyebrow. He passed a mug to me and sat down to finish his eggs. "Coulson called. Said he had to raise hell about national security and call in his last favor with the chief, but we're keeping the case. At least until they've got enough to formally charge Banner with murder. Then they take over."

I took a long drink of coffee and nodded approvingly. Rogers made a good cup. I'd let his sad look and changing the subject ride, at least for now. God knew I didn't want him prying in my personal affairs. "Fair enough," I said around a half-eaten piece of bacon. "With some luck, that will give us through the autopsy."

The day dawned gray and blustery, though the rain had since faded to a half-hearted drizzle. The city around the central police station never really slept, not with the constant coming and going of beat cops and black-and-whites, but it was slow to come to life at that early hour. The only sign of non-police movement was a man delivering stacks of the Tribune.

We showed our badges to the desk sergeant, who snarled and scowled at us just in case we were feeling welcome on police turf. A young patrolman led us up to the interview room. Talbot was standing outside, looking sour in his lieutenant's bars while we rustled his case. I winked at him, and heard Rogers sigh with exasperation. I opened the door.

Bruce Banner was already inside, seated at a small rickety-looking table in an even more fragile looking chair. He was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands. I could see the metallic glimmer of handcuffs around his wrists. He was dressed in an ill-fitting gray shirt and pants, though still barefoot. Evidently they had let him get cleaned up, because I didn't see any blood on his hands. He glanced up at the sound of the door, and I could see his face was clean as well. In the four-odd years I'd been an agent, I'd never seen anyone look so relieved to see a pair of Feds.

"Doctor Banner," Rogers greeted him cautiously. "I'm Agent Rogers, and this is Agent-"

"Barton, right?" Banner said in a soft voice. His eyes were much clearer than they had been when I last saw him. They dropped back to the table. "You were, uh, kind to me last night. I remember."

I felt my cheeks go warm at the tired gratitude in his voice. "Don't mention it," I shrugged uncomfortably.

Rogers glanced at me as if asking for approval, and I gave him the fraction of a nod. Letting him lead was a bit of a risk, as questioning Banner was going to be a delicate thing. He was a smart guy and probably knew enough law to know his rights, and our job would get a lot harder if he decided to lawyer up. We'd have to be a little gentler with him than I'd normally be with someone accused of such a brutal crime.

"We have a few questions about last night," Rogers stated.

"I figured as much," Banner replied quietly, reaching up with his bound hands to rub his face. He sounded drained. I guess that was understandable. "You and everyone else."

I raised an eyebrow. This was usually when the chorus of I didn't do it, it wasn't me, I've been framed! started. "And the past few days," I added.

Banner looked up sharply. "Days?"

Rogers and I exchanged a look. "Doctor, you've been missing for three days."

The blood drained so rapidly from Banner's face that for a moment I thought he might faint. "What?"

"Near as we can tell, you disappeared sometime Sunday night," Rogers said neutrally.

Banner's eyes went wide and flicked rapidly between me and Rogers. "W-what day is it?" he stammered.

"Thursday," I told him.

"But that- that can't be right!" he exclaimed. He tried to run a hand anxiously through his hair, but with his wrists bound, it was impossible. He slumped back into his hands. "Oh god."

We didn't have time to waste with him going to pieces on us. "Dr. Banner!" I said sharply, and Banner looked up. He looked sick and more than a little scared. My heart twisted sympathetically but I kept my neutral lawman voice. "Please. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Waking up in the alley," he said in a shaky voice. His eyes closed. He swallowed hard and pulled himself together. "It was wet, cold. Someone was touching my neck, uh, feeling for a pulse, I guess. Then the shouting started, and the next thing I knew I was in handcuffs."

"No idea how you got there?" Rogers asked.

He shuddered. "None at all."

Rogers and I looked at each other again. If it was an act, it was a damn good one. My gut told me it wasn't. "And before that?" I prompted.

Banner's eyes closed again in thought. "Uh, leaving Tony's," he said. He took a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. "Tony Stark's, I mean. I think there was a taxi," he elaborated. Apparently he was afraid it sounded ridiculous that he knew millionaire Tony Stark, because he quickly continued: "We worked together in the war; I was at a party there-"

"We know," Rogers interjected. His poker face was a lot better in the interrogation room than Coulson's office; I'd give him that. "We talked to Stark."

"That was Sunday night," I reiterated. Banner's eyes flicked desperately to me but I had no comfort to offer him. "So you're saying you don't remember anything that occurred between Sunday night and very early this morning?"

Banner's hands dropped to the tabletop. The thumb of his right hand began to work nervously over the knuckles of his left, over and over and over. He looked sick. "I guess I am," he said softly.

Rogers leaned back in his chair, studying him intently. I got up and poured a glass of water. I handed it to Banner and took my own seat. His knuckles were white on the glass and his hand shook as he sipped it.

"Do you drink, Dr. Banner?" Rogers asked neutrally.

Banner set the glass down and rubbed a hand across his face. "Not really," he said, with just enough embarrassment that I knew he was telling the truth. "Sometimes."

"Did you drink at the party?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, looking ashamed. "Tony- Mr. Stark…well, you met him. He's a difficult man to refuse."

I smirked. Rogers' eyes narrowed slightly. I'd heard it too, a slight reluctant note in Banner's voice under the raw fear and panic.

"What did you and Mr. Stark talk about, Dr. Banner?" Rogers asked.

He sat bolt upright in surprise. "How-"

I glanced approvingly at Rogers. It was a good catch. "Just answer the question, please, Doctor."

Banner sighed. "I had a fight with my fiancée," he admitted. "Over the telephone. She's in New Mexico, visiting her father. He's never liked me and he's, uh… sore over the wedding. Going to the party was just an excuse for me to see Tony. I went to him for advice."

"Stark doesn't exactly seem the marrying kind," I observed.

"He's not," Banner said without looking up. "But he knows the General." He sighed again sadly. "Does Betty know I'm here?"

I'd throw him the bone. There was no harm in his knowing, anyway. "We've been trying to contact her, but the Air Corps is making it difficult," I told him.

He chuckled hollowly. "That sounds like General Ross, all right."

"What did you fight about?" I asked.

Banner let out another humorless chuckle. The corner of his mouth tugged upward. "You know, I don't even remember," he said sheepishly. "It seems so…trivial, now."

"Have you ever been to the Black Widow Bar?" Rogers asked, clearly hoping to catch him off guard.

He seemed puzzled by the quick change of subject. "I don't think so," Banner said hesitantly, turning to face him. "I don't go out much."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Banner replied. He shot a pleading look in my direction, but I let Rogers continue his bombardment. It was a risk, but I thought it worth taking.

"You were seen there the night of Stark's party," Rogers said flatly. "In the company of a tall, dark-haired man. Had an English accent. Sound like anyone you know?"

"I-I don't know," Banner stammered. "I've never been to the Black Widow, that I can remember. And I don't know anyone English by that description, I swear."

"There are a lot of gaps in your memory, Dr. Banner," Rogers observed. He stared at Banner with a cold blue gaze that would have made Stalin himself squirm. "Inconvenient. Or convenient, depending on how you look at it."

I held my breath. If he was going to lawyer up, Rogers' words were probably going to be what pushed him over the edge. Banner went very pale. "Oh my god," he breathed, looking between us. "You-you really think I killed that girl, don't you?"

"Nobody's saying that," Rogers said. The yet was implied. His chair scraped loudly across the floor as he pushed back from the table. Banner flinched at the harsh sound. Rogers rose and stalked out into the hall.

It was a classic move; right out of the academy. He was leaving me, the friendly face, to try to get a little more out of Banner. It also gave him a chance to compare notes with Lt. Talbot without me there to rile him up. I chuckled inwardly. Not bad for a rookie.

The table creaked as Banner sighed and slumped onto his elbows, completely overwhelmed. I had a green light, now that Rogers was out of the room. I pulled my flask from my breast pocket and unscrewed the top. I took a quick friendly nip and offered it to Banner. He hesitated, and I smirked. "Go on, you look like you need a drink."

"Thanks," he said. He took a large swig and coughed. "See, told you I don't drink much."

I chuckled, but Banner looked so, well, scared, that I quickly sobered. "For what it's worth," I said aloud, "I don't think you did it."

Anyone else would have jumped on the opportunity to again tell me how innocent they were. Banner didn't. Any doubts I had that he legitimately did not remember where he had been or what he had done these past three days were rapidly evaporating. Nobody in their right mind would use that as a defense if they had any reason not to do so.

"Captain America seems to," Banner replied glumly.

I leaned casually on the edge of the table. "Well, even Captain America has to prove that, in a court of law."

"True," Banner said with a sigh. He didn't sound hopeful, not that I could blame him. He reached up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. "I presume you're going to be searching my office?"

"Your home, too," I replied with a shrug. "Standard operating procedure."

Banner flinched at the thought of the invasion, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I see," he said in a passably even voice. He glanced up at me sheepishly. "I'm…I'm not in a position to ask for anything, but I, uh, seem to have lost my pills."

"Pills?"

"They're nothing special, just to protect against accidental exposure to radiation," Banner explained. His fingers worked together anxiously, over and over, on the table. "You have to take them every day to maintain the effect. If by some miracle I get out of this, Agent Barton, I'd like to return to my work as soon as possible."

I studied him. It was a small enough favor, and it might win me some crucial trust with Banner. "I'll keep an eye out."

"Thanks," he said quietly.

There was a knock on the door. That would be Rogers. I levered myself off the edge of the table and left Banner to worrying his knuckles.

Rogers was waiting for me outside, frowning. He had a bag containing a slender leather wallet, a tiny silver pillbox, decorated with a geometric turquoise inlay, and a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses.

"The stuff Banner had on him when they brought him in," he said by way of explanation.

I took out the pillbox and twisted it open. Four or five little green pills stared back at me. I closed it and tossed it back in the bag. "Apparently the pills are for radiation," I told him. "Some kind of prophylactic."

Rogers grunted in acknowledgement and handed me the wallet. I quickly rifled through it. A little cash, a few business cards with addresses mostly around the University, a driver's license, and what appeared to be a government-issue identification badge emblazoned: "ARGONNE NATIONAL LABORATORY". Nothing we didn't already know. I tossed the wallet back to Rogers and sighed.

"I think he's being honest," I said. "He really doesn't remember what happened, for three solid days. You got to wonder why."

"I don't like it, either," Rogers said. "But that doesn't mean he didn't kill her." He handed the bag of evidence back to the lieutenant and we moved to leave. We'd spent enough time this morning in hostile territory. "What I do like," he added while we walked to my car, "is that he went overboard at Stark's party because he was upset with his fiancée. Ended up at the Black Widow for a few more, one thing lead to another…and, boom, dead girl."

It was a plausible scenario, and in our business, the simple explanations were usually the right ones. But it still didn't feel right to me. "Three days, though? That's one hell of a bender, Rogers. I've a hard time seeing a quiet guy like Banner on one of those."

"You'd be surprised," Rogers said with a shrug. That statement smacked of personal experience. I shot him a questioning look, but he refused to elaborate. "What do you have in mind for our next move?"

I sighed and started up the Ford. So far this case had been nothing but a lack of breaks, and it was getting frustrating. "Search his house and office," I said. "We need to figure out who this English guy is. Guess we got to do it the hard way."

The weather had not improved during our interview with Banner. I'd managed to retrieve my overcoat before leaving the station, and I was glad of it, because the wind was gusting off the lake again. Rogers was quiet, watching out the window with interest as we drove south, away from downtown. It had been so long since any of the city had been new to me.

The gothic towers of the University of Chicago sprouted incongruously from the surrounding neighborhood like a diamond tiara on a dowager's fading gray hair. The grass of the quadrangles was brilliantly green against the gray stone and the gray sky, though the trees were still bare. Rainwater dripped from their naked branches and down my neck, somehow always managing to find the gap between my collar and the brim of my hat. The air smelled like books and manifestos, mingled with a whiff of trust fund. I hunched uncomfortably into the protection of my coat and pulled my hat brim a little lower. I should have stayed in the car.

Rogers, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at home in this bastion of academic life. I followed as he cut confidently through the crowds of co-eds in slicked back hair and letter sweaters, or bobby socks and saddle shoes. Unlike me, he looked like he belonged. A little part of me envied him for it.

"I should have realized you were a college boy," I grumbled while we walked towards the building a gawky boy in glasses had indicated as housing the Metallurgical Laboratory. It didn't make any sense to me, either, but Rogers seemed to know more about Banner and his project than I did. As I didn't have any better ideas, I trusted his opinion.

"Not quite two years at Columbia," Rogers said, and there was a note of pride in his voice. "Before the war."

"What did you study?" I asked.

"Art," he replied, and I did a double take.

"You?" I exclaimed. "Captain America studied art? They sure didn't put that in the newsreels!" I prodded gleefully.

He shot me an exasperated look. "Oh put a lid on it, Barton."

I grinned. "You can do the talking, then, College Boy."

Rogers rolled his eyes, and I followed him inside. Another student pointed us in the direction of Banner's office, and with the assistance of our badges, we convinced a secretary to open his door.

Banner's office was small and pleasantly cluttered. Academic journals and mimeographs littered his desk around a shiny black typewriter. Most of the wall space was taken up between a small window and bookshelves, which sagged under the weight of books with titles I did not understand, but sounded very scientific. A large piece of foamy-looking green glass sat on one shelf, beside a small photograph of four men in a cheap cardboard frame. I picked it up while Rogers rifled through Banner's desk.

The men in the photograph were outside, in what looked like somewhere in the Southwest. The mangled remains of something steel were twisted in front of them. I recognized Banner, looking a little thinner and a lot happier. Tony Stark stood beside him, with a rakish grin and his arm thrown over one of Banner's shoulders. I did not recognize the other two men. One was tall and unsmiling, with his arms folded across his chest. There were thick white streaks in his dark hair along his temples, and he stood a little aloof from the others. The fourth man was shorter and blond. He smiled, though he did not look particularly happy. I flipped the frame over. It was labeled in black ink, in a fine, feminine hand: "It worked! B. Banner, A. Stark, R. Richards, H. Pym, 1945."

"Barton," Rogers said. He held up a pill bottle. "More pills."

"Bring 'em along," I said, handing him the photograph. "Take a look at this. Guy on the end is tall with dark hair."

"You think that might be the one Miss Romanoff saw?" Rogers asked.

"It's possible," I said. "She would have-"

I was interrupted by a frantic shout of "Dr. Banner! Dr. Banner!" from the hall outside. Rogers and I looked at each other, puzzled. A second later, a kid in a maroon sweater emblazoned with a large white C skidded into Banner's office. He froze in the doorway when he saw me and Rogers.

"Uh, sorry," he panted. There was a piece of paper clutched in his right hand. He looked between us suspiciously. "Where's Dr. Banner? Has he come back yet? He really needs to see this telegram."

"Dr. Banner won't be back for a few days," I explained, hoping it wasn't a total lie. I held up my badge and the kid's eyes went wide as saucers. "Government business. Who are you, kid?"

"Uh, Rick Jones," he said nervously. "I'm one of Dr. Banner's students. Is he in trouble?"

"I'm afraid we can't comment on that," Rogers said smoothly. "May I see that, please?"

Jones handed him the telegram. "It's one of Dr. Banner's colleagues," he explained. "Dr. Pym, out in California. He's been found dead."

I retrieved the photograph from Banner's desk and slipped it into my breast pocket. Pym, like H. Pym. Rogers and I exchanged looks and I knew he had realized the same thing. He looked like he liked it even less than I did.

"We'll be sure to let him know," Rogers told Rick Jones. It was a dismissal. The kid looked like he wanted to ask for the telegram back, but Rogers raised his eyebrows at him. The kid swallowed and left the office. "I vote we check his apartment," Rogers said to me in a low voice. "And then we get Maria Hill working on this Pym fellow. According to the telegram, he'd been dead for weeks when they found the body. I don't like this timing, Barton."

"Agreed," I said. "Might be a coincidence. Might not."

We never made it to Banner's apartment. As soon as I started my car, the radio hissed and crackled to life. "Agent Barton. Agent Rogers. Please come in, over."

I glanced at Rogers and lifted the transmitter. "Barton here," I said. "What is it, Miss Hill?"

"Where have you been? I've been trying to raise you for an hour!"

Rogers smirked and I rolled my eyes. "Doing very important police work, Miss Hill. The kind that requires leaving the car. What's the emergency?"

"You're not going to believe this," Maria Hill's voice crackled. "Banner's had some kind of breakdown. The cops aren't being forthcoming but it sounds like it was pretty violent. They've taken him to the psych ward at Cook County."

"The hell?" I muttered to Rogers. "He seem crazy to you when we talked to him?"

"Not at all," Rogers said. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously. "Certainly not like that. The dead girl might disagree."

"Point," I grunted. I clicked the transmitter button. "Thanks, Miss Hill. We'll go right away."

to be continued... please review! 3