tushanshu_logs

"It's not his real name," Jim says dryly. "It's 'McCoy. Leonard McCoy'." And you can bet he drops into the Doctor's own southern drawl to spit out his name, exactly the same in pitch and cadence as it was the first time they met. "But he told me his wife took everything in the divorce and just left him with his bones. Plus, sawbones, right? Made sense at the time and it stuck."

Jim hops down from where he's sitting and comes to lean over the table, getting almost up close and personal with that microscope. "So how long've you been into all this stuff, anyway? Science, I mean."

Not even Bruce can resist a twitch of amusement, glancing up over his glasses at Jim, at hearing that imitation. They must be good friends if he can get him down that well.

Normally Bruce likes more personal space than this, but he's used to putting up with Jim by now, so he merely goes back to what he was doing, adjusting the focus on the microscope. "Since I was a kid. I used to steal physics textbooks." This much he can manage to admit about his childhood, impersonal as it is. "They, uh, they wouldn't let me skip grades until I was older. I was pretty mad about that."

"I skipped a grade," Jim says conversationally, remaining exactly where he is, half in Banner's personal space. "And then I failed like, the next four." Okay, the number is nowhere near that, but Jim's own personal rebellion had manifested in skipping out on school, intentionally blowing off tests and just generally being a little shit. Landing in and out of 'behavioral correction facilities' or whatever you wanted to call them. Genius level repeat offender, right?

It was always a tiny Pyrrhic victory to his young self, seeing the way his stepfather fought down the irritation at his bad grades. Jim always was the perfect student before his brother left, and the reversal had been frustrating to the man. Jim liked pushing him. Daring him to go one step further.

In hindsight, it was pretty puerile. But sometimes it's all the fights you walk away from.

"It's all useless at that level anyway," Bruce says dismissively, not totally paying attention to what he's saying as he reaches over to grab a pipette and an unmarked solution. His respect for organized institutions has never been high, given how largely unnecessary they were to his own learning.

He squeezes a droplet of the solution out onto the slide, peering intently through the lens as he does so, and waits in patient silence for several seconds to watch the reaction. "It's definitely regenerative," he concludes, not taking his eyes away. The aftermath is just as important as the reaction itself. "I can't tell you to what extent without further trials, but it looks significant."

"Well thank you for crushing my inner nine-year-old's ego." It's said in jest, and there's no heat to the statement. Banner's statement, though, makes the playfulness drop away from his presentation.

"Awesome," he says, in a tone that means anything but. "It came from a human donor. Don't even ask me why it works on a tribble." So maybe science isn't his strongest subject, but he's pretty sure that you really shouldn't be able to just crossover the species like that. He rubs a hand across his occipital bone and then down against his neck. "Do you think you can isolate it and-- I don't know, recreate it or something?"

It definitely shouldn't work across species, but that's the least of Bruce's scientific aggravations in Keeliai.

He drags his eyes away from the oculars and gives Jim a more considering, level look. "Theoretically, maybe. What do you want it for?" So sue him for being leery of replicating an insanely powerful, cross-species regenerative for someone from the military. Bruce likes Jim, maybe even trusts him a little, but some suspicions are deeply ingrained in him for a reason.

Jim grimaces. He really doesn't want to get into this, but-- sometimes, you have to give to get.

"There's this man from my world. Khan. He's a genetically engineered supersoldier. That's his." He nods to the slides. "The blood, not the tribble. I got killed back home, and my doctor... used his blood to bring me back." He doesn't look pleased about that. Maybe it's Kyle rubbing off on him a bit. Dead things should stay dead. But he waves a hand, dismissive. "If Khan ever shows up here, odds are he's going to try and use his blood as a bargaining tool. Say if someone gets sick, or injured, or doesn't trust the people here that use magic--" Like Korra, and he taps his foot against the floor. "Let's just say I'd rather he not have a monopoly on it. He's kind of a psychopath. I don't care if you want to keep it locked up in a lab, but I do not want him to be able to hold this over people's heads."

If. It's a big gamble, but it's one that he can't help but take. If Khan shows up. If he's from the right time. If, if, if, and Jim hates operating blind. Oh, he's good at it. All the dumb luck in the universe, right? But it's not the game it used to be, not any more.

The words genetically engineered supersoldier do nothing to help Bruce's paranoia. If anything, it heightens it, sharpens his attention to a fine point as he takes in every word. He has to agree that dead things should stay dead-- he's always taken a sour disposition toward his own presumed immortality, and uncomfortably tries to avoid thinking on it.

That Jim doesn't care if he doesn't have control of the extracted regeneration factor is what convinces Bruce. Letting Bruce keep unilateral control over something is a fast way to get him to agree.

"I'll keep a sample of the blood," he decides out loud, seeing the logic in Jim's concerns and not discounting it. "I'd rather not have the concentrated substance sitting around. It's too easily abused. But I can keep some blood on ice, and if it comes up later, let me know. If he shows up and starts with the extortion-- this is my area. I'm confident I can replicate it."

That's the most he'll promise. Bruce isn't keen on absolute commitments, but if those terms are acceptable, he has no problem with it.

"That's fine. If you're worried, don't tell me where it is, okay?" Because Jim understands why people - why Banner - would be concerned about something like this. Hell, he's concerned by this. The Eugenics war was not a bright shining point in human history, it was a brutal fucking massacre and it's the reason that humans in his day and age hate any sort of genetic tinkering, tweaking or improvements.

He gives Bruce a brief, grateful smile, and it's like a weight's come off his shoulders. "Thanks. Have I told you lately that you're awesome?"

Maybe someone else would take that as an opening to reassure him that he trusts him. Not Bruce. He takes it at face value, and nods, satisfied. "I won't lose it, and I won't tell anyone," he promises, signifying that he's going to take him up on that, and keep it somewhere secret. It can join the place he keeps the modified samples of his own blood that he'd used to research the cloning.

Then he's thrown slightly off balance by the compliment and the gratitude, and Bruce's business like attitude dissolves into a characteristic wry answering smile. "Not lately, no. You just like having someone to do secret science for you." It's a mild joke, not an accusation.

"Oh come on. I've got Spock for that. And Bones. They have to do what I say just because I outrank them." Jim's smile settles, becomes a little bit fond. See, this is exactly why he likes Banner. The guy's not afraid to tease him, he's not a pushover, and he's smart as hell. All these things are things that Jim looks for in the people around him, and admires.

"Maybe I just wanted your charming company, princess. Ever think of that?"

"Princess?" he asks skeptically, giving Jim a look that amounts to a more dignified, tolerant, oh please. "That's the nickname you're going for?" It's less aggravating than Tony's, but that's not saying much.

"And sometimes you need someone who doesn't have to do what you say. I get it." Bruce thinks he does get it. Sometimes you need that outside perspective. At least, that's what he'd come to value Jim for, himself.

Since they've moved on to the pointless witty snark portion of the evening, Bruce turns and starts cleaning up, carefully saving a portion of the sample as he'd promised.

"You got a better one?" He is all cheek, okay? Sorry, Bruce, this is your life now. Pray that Jim and Tony never become friends, it'd result in a black hole of smarm.

And then he smiles, shakes his head and claps Bruce on the shoulder. "Anyway, you're right on the money this time, I probably shouldn't stick around. Thanks for the science, Doc." He's got, you know. Tribbles to hunt down.

(These things really are trouble. Bones was right to name the damn things.)

So, if Bruce adds nothing further, Jim will head for the door with a final cheery wave.

There's no way he's about to suggest some of the awful things Tony has come up with to call him. El presidente is just the tip of the iceberg.

Bruce quirks him a smile and a wave back, not even bothering with a you're welcome, considering it unspoken. This is another responsibility to take on, holding onto this blood sample, but Bruce doesn't mind. Jim has good reasons for it and he's letting him stay in control of it.

He's also, he realizes after he's watched him walk out the door, left him with a tribble when he'd so assiduously been trying to keep them out of his lab.

"Damn," he sighs.

closed

bullshit science blood that can heal people from the dead across species!!!

gasp sounds totally legit!!

trek science man. trek science.

the original technobabble.

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