Inside Voices ▷ Bruce Banner | ✓

17 - A HUMAN NOT A PERSON

He sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to tamp down the headache already forming. "What do you mean by that?"

She took a deep breath, sighing. "I don't know if my mutations are gone. I mean, I can't see as well or hear as well, but that isn't to say that I'm still not as strong, I'm still trying to see if my ability to retain information is just the same as it used to be, I could still be a danger to you and everyone else, and I hurt people."

"So that means you deserve to die?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "Because you hurt people when you had no control over yourself?"

"But I still hurt them," she pressed, "You don't understand—"

"I understand better than you think, because it's one thing to see it and be unable to do something, but it's another to wake up to find that you've torn down buildings and killed innocent people," Bruce said, staring down at his notes, taking deep breaths, and she felt a sharp spike of fear in her stomach and she immediately reached out, ready to push herself off the table and run at the first sign.

Bruce was able to calm down, however, but pointed towards her. "You see? I hate that. Not you, but the fear. Because it's true, there's a monster inside of me and, damn it, he and I aren't on the best terms. I think he likes me, maybe, but he's looking out for himself. I shove a gun in my mouth, he spits out the bullet, you don't know what it's like, I want to die, I just can't."

"But I can," she argued, and he shook his head furiously, waving his hands.

"That is not what I mean, no, what I'm saying is is that it's not your fault and you shouldn't—" he stopped, sighing as he buried his face in his hands, trying to find his words, and she let him, waiting for him to justify why she should be allowed to live when all the other people she hurt weren't.

"You didn't want to hurt those people and I didn't want to hurt those people, so no matter what you think, you don't deserve to die," he said, finally, dropping his hands onto the table, "That's the shortest statement I can make of it, because I realize using myself as an example isn't smart, because your situation is different than mine."

"But you have more reason," she argued, because she needed to find some way to convince him that she deserved to live just a little bit less, "Because this is another side of you. That is a monster you have no control over, the hands that hurt people weren't your own."

"But it wasn't your intention or your choice to hurt those people," he argued, reaching out to touch her arm, "Listen. I don't need you to justify anything to me, I'm fine. What we need to focus on is you."

"I could hurt you!" she cried, ripping her arm away, "You don't know that I can't, I have these thoughts, I don't like them, but they're there, and I see myself hurting you here or in your room or in the kitchen, and it scares me, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," he said, reaching out towards her arm, wanting nothing more than to touch her, "You won't, because you don't want to hurt people. You won't, because you're a good person, and you weren't responsible for what happened to those people."

"If I wasn't, then why could I see?" she demanded, and he sighed, shaking his head, now holding onto her arm.

"If you could do it again, without the serum, without the compliance, without anything except the clear head you have now, would you kill them?" he demanded, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Of course not—" he began, but he stopped her, holding up his hand.

"There. Right there. That's what I'm talking about," he said, releasing his hold from her arms, because he was holding her much too hard, but she could hardly feel it, her entire body thrumming.