"Alright, what the Hell are you doing in here now?"

Bruce jumped awake from where the left side of his face had been resting on the workbench. "Oh, God, what is this?" he exclaimed, trying to get his bearings. When he saw the microscope in front of him he realized he'd conked out in the middle of his experiments again. He gave a soft groan and drug his hand over his face, peering at the scientist who'd re-appeared through the spaces between his fingers. "Not again…"

"You know, I didn't want to, but I'll call the police if that's what it takes to get you out of here," the man said, hands poised on his hips again. "I've had other companies send people to try and steal my research. I have good lawyers; it's never ended well for them."

"I'm sleeping, it's a dream," Bruce told himself out loud, shutting his eyes in hopes that when he opened them again, the man would be gone. "It's one of those dreams where you know you're dreaming..."

But the 'hallucination' didn't vanish, it fact he seemed to become wordier than ever, if that was possible. "We probably could have been friends, you and I. You know, if we'd met at a convention and hung out at the bar and gotten to know one another or something first, but instead you seem to be intent on breaking into my lab over and over- which is a good trick, by the way, you're going to have to tell me how you did that… Are you like some kind of super-specialized cryptographer? I thought my codes were practically fool-proof against every decryption cipher in the book."

The physicist clapped his hands over his ears. "Get out of my head!"

The dark-haired man tilted his head to the side like a curious bird. "Wait, lemme get this straight… you think I'm-" he pointed to himself with both hands- "up in your head? Wow, okay. I'm flattered, I guess. Sorry to give you a rude wake-up call, buddy, but this is me: living, breathing, in-the-flesh." He motioned up and down his body as proof. "I don't get any real-er than this."

Bruce just stared at him, dead-pan. "You can't be real." He rubbed at his eyes again, swearing under his breath.

The apparition walked over to him and leaned out towards him, seemingly studying his affect a moment. "Tell me something, have you been losing a lot of sleep lately?" he guessed.

Dr. Banner gave a wry chuckle. "I usually do."

"Listen, I know a thing or two about sleep deprivation myself," the scientist said, starting to pace around the lab again. "You might start feeling paranoid, like everyone's out to get you and do you in. Or you might start hearing voices or seeing things…"

"Yeah, you're telling me," Bruce mumbled with a roll of his eyes. God, this was really ridiculous, the man he was imagining was attempting to diagnose the fact that he was imagining things. That had to be irony at its very best.

"Now, what I'm saying here is that you've fantasized, and quite convinvingly, I must add, that you've rented a laboratory that, in fact, belongs to me. Pick up that bunsen burner," he commanded and Bruce frowned. "Pick it up, it's okay, just look at the bottom real quick, I'm trying to make a point here. There's some residue left from when I accidentally spilled a mixture of carbonic acid and potassium hydroxide." The physicist turned it over, spying the white grainy substance and he swabbed his thumb over it suspiciously to confirm the claim, since any good chemist could tell you the mixture resulted in water (which would have long since evaporated) and potassium carbonate, a white salt. He licked his thumb and gawked at the taste, not knowing at this point whether he should be surprised or not that it was just as the other scientist said it was.

"Now, seriously, how else would I know that?" the dark-haired man questioned, holding his hands out. "Or how about the fact that the microscope you've been putting your face all over is an Omano OM239P Polarizing Trinocular Compound microscope?" he rattled off. Bruce blinked and readjusted his glasses to examine the label on the side of the device. "Yeah, go ahead, check the manufacturer's seal. That puppy cost me two grand." He held up two fingers.

Dr. Banner frowned and peeled the glasses off his ears with a sigh, having verified that too. Either he was really nuts or this guy was for real. The older man stood in front of him and folded his arms across his chest. "I think you need to come to terms with the fact that this is my laboratory. This is my workspace, my equipment. That's my coffee machine, that's the arc reactor that… hey, where's my trophy?"

"What trophy?" Bruce asked, interest piqued by the mention of a 'reactor'.

"There was a glass case with my arc reactor…" the man seemed legitimately upset that finally something wasn't where he expected it to be. "It was right here on the shelf."

The physicist shrugged, folding his spectacles into his chest pocket. "That bookcase was completely clear when I moved in."

"It was just there," the man pouted. "You know what? I've had enough, you think you can just snatch things out of my lab and get away with it; I'm calling the police."

Bruce shot to his feet. "Whoa, no, now hold on, that won't be necessary!" If he was arrested the next step would be military-involvement, back to General Ross attempting to cage him and keep him under lock and key. His stomach turned flip-flops, heart beginning to pound dangerously in his chest as the Hulk stirred within him.

"A little late to explain yourself, buddy," the scientist said, leaning over to poke the control panel on the wall. Except his fingers phased right through the buttons. Bruce did a double-take. "Hey, what the heck did you do to my touchscreen?" the dark-haired man demanded, looking suitably flustered. He tried poking it a few more times ineffectually. "Why can't I…?" Bruce stared in wide-eyed awe; he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was as if the other man wasn't… solid… as if he were a phantom.

The apparition pointed at him threateningly. "You stay right there. I'm going to use the one in the antechamber." He turned quickly on a heel and stormed out of the lab and just like that, he vanished like he'd never existed at all.

It had been around four in the morning when he'd had his second sighting and interaction with the man in his laboratory. Bruce tried to busy himself tidying up a bit and making some semblence of a breakfast, but he kept glancing over his shoulder and around corners, half expecting to see him again. As soon as eight o'clock rolled around, Bruce wasted no time in picking up the phone and calling the realtor, knowing she should be available in her office at the beginning of the work day. She picked up on the very first ring. "Hey, Grace. Bruce Banner here," he greeted efficiently, drumming his fingers against the railing of the outdoor deck where he'd chosen to make his call. Call him crazy, but part of him was nervous if he made it down in the lab, the guy would show up and interrupt him in the middle of it.

"Oh hi, Bruce," she responded cheerfully. "How are you liking your place? I'm so glad we could finally find somewhere that worked for you," she directed the conversation seemlessly into her business spiel. "It was quite the ordeal. But we pulled through for you!"

"It's great, yeah," the physicist replied perfunctorily, scuffing his loafers on the redwood planks. "I just… had a question."

"Well, go on and shoot, no need to flap your gums," she laughed, not aware of her own hypocrisy by saying such.

He cleared his throat. "Uh… the people who sub-let this lab to me… do you have their number so I could get in contact with them?" he inquired.

"Is something wrong?" she sounded suddenly concerned.

"Oh, no," Bruce lied, quickly wetting his lips with his tongue. "Nothing like that… I, uh, I was just wondering about the owner, that's all." He frowned and glanced out at the waves crashing on the beach as he waited for a reply.

"Well, the woman that I dealt with, she didn't want to talk about it," Grace responded and Bruce found himself nipping his tongue. "It was some kind of tragedy in the company. I didn't press for details cuz I don't need any more drama."

Dr. Banner felt his eyebrows lift. He held the phone closer to his face. "You think the man who owned this place died…?" He was seeing a ghost after all! A ghost of a man who was haunting his former laboratory. Bruce wasn't much one for believing in the paranormal, since usually he liked to assume everything and anything could be explained with science, but the evidence was certainly stacking up in that direction.

"Well, you better hope so," the woman on the other end chuckled. "That's the only way they're gonna get off this month-to-month thing and give you a real lease."

Her attitude made the physicist/humanitarian cringe a little. The lab might be perfect, but he didn't wish harm upon anyone. "That's not exactly the reason I was asking," he started to clarify, but she interrupted again in a patronizing tone.

"Come on, Bruce, grow up. Look, it has a view, a full bar, a piano. People would kill their grandmothers for a lot less in this area."

"Right. Well thanks," he said somberly before quickly ending the call. Bruce sighed and stared out at the ocean again as the sunrays danced on the crests. So he had a spirit in his laboratory and had no idea how to get rid of it. He guessed it was time to hit the books and do some research.

Of all the things he had studied in his lifetime, Bruce never would have guessed he'd become an expert in parapsychology.

At least he was finally finding a use for the ID card S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him, Bruce thought as he swiped the magnetic stripe through the reader. The machine gave a satisfied chirrup of confirmation and the door to the data library clicked unlocked so he could enter. It was quiet inside, only a few other people besides himself there; obviously it wasn't an oft utilized section of the compound. It was a big facility, bigger than Bruce had been expecting, considering it was merely an off-shoot- the real headquarters was somewhere undisclosed in New York, but this was the branch nearest him. The place was a bit of a labyrinth as well, to be honest, twisting hallways, gated checkpoints. Nestled in the cliffs of the San Gabriel Mountains, there were more underground floors than Bruce cared to count, each progressively lower level corresponding to the amount of secrecy involved. He didn't have a clearance beyond B2, but thankfully the library was located on B1, so he had access.

Dr. Banner found himself a spot at an open computer console, keyed in his personal passcode, and plugged in his USB drive. He wet his lips and placed his fingers on the homekeys of the keyboard, staring at the insertion cursor blinking at him in the searchbar, only realizing then that he had no idea what keywords he should start with. Finally he settled on 'spirit' and hit enter, and his eyebrows lifted when the computer returned several thousands of pages of results worth of newspaper columns, magazine articles, scientific journals, dissertations, books, manuals and manuscripts. He coughed and readjusted his glasses. Perhaps he ought to add a few more terms to narrow things down. He added 'sighting' and queried the database a second time.

"Can I help you with anything?" asked a friendly voice behind him.

Maybe it was because the last two times he'd heard voices behind him it had turned out to be a ghost, but Bruce jumped halfway out of his skin. He recovered when he saw the voice belonged to a middle-aged gentleman with a slightly receding hairline and a kindly smile. He was wearing a formal black business suit and had a name tag clipped on his breast pocket that identified him as 'Agent Phil Coulson'. Dr. Banner returned his smile. "No, thanks, that's alright," he declined, clicking on one of the top links that looked somewhat promising. He felt ridiculous enough searching for pseudo-science alone without the added embarrassment of someone else knowing he was.

The fellow didn't go away though, still standing a respectful distance behind him. "I've always found the paranormal to be an interesting subject," he said casually.

Bruce turned in his swivel chair to glance back at him, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. "Do you believe in this stuff?" he asked cautiously.

Phil shrugged. "Well, you don't until you do. Like a lot of things: mythology, astrology, ufology. When you're in my line of work, you learn that everything has a grain of truth to it." He smiled again, bouncing slightly on his heels.

Well, at least with that attitude Bruce didn't have to worry about the guy looking down on him any. He turned back to resume scrolling through the document he had opened.

"That's a little dated," Phil said, coming forward a step. "Mind if I?" he asked, extending his hand towards the mouse.

The physicist hesitated, but eventually sat back in his chair to let the agent take over. He just wanted to help, and he wasn't being unfriendly, so why not let him? Maybe he could make his life a little easier. With an impressive rapidity, Coulson began sorting through the menus and tabs. "So what kind of encounter have you had?" he asked genially.

Bruce frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose again in nervous habit. "I uh… I had an apparitional experience…" he admitted, the words sounding silly on his tongue.

"Right on," Coulson smiled, seeming to pass no judgement at all, his blue eyes practically dancing with excitement. "So do you need information on communicating? I know of some really good material on seance, there's a surprising amount of evidence in favor of it, not that it gets far past S.H.I.E.L.D., unless we want it to."

He actually laughed. "Trust me, communication is not his problem," Bruce said, shaking his head. Could barely get the guy to shut up.

"Got'cha. Don't worry, I can find you exactly what you need," the agent promised. With the words he compiled a number of volumes into zip format, copying them into the physicist's USB drive, nearly filling the little 4 GB stick and making Bruce balk. "That should do you for now," he said with a smile, dismounting the drive and handing it to Dr. Banner.

"Uh, thanks," he took it, and trying to remain polite, he extended his hand for a shake, "Agent Coulson, is it?"

The man returned the gesture with a firm grip. "Just call me Phil."

"Yeah, alright," Bruce responded and let go. "Nice meeting you, Phil."

"See you around, Dr. Banner," the agent responded cheerfully, and Bruce kind of hoped it wouldn't be the case. Hopefully he'd have this all cleared up by tomorrow and he could get back to his work with no further set-backs. He hurried out the door and made himself scarse.