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Jack McGee, tired and a little bit drunk, fumbled with the key to his hotel room. As he entered, David Banner rounded the corner on his way to his room, missing him by a matter of seconds. He had barely unlocked the door when his neighbor’s was opened again—Jack had forgotten his coat downstairs. David turned his head to say a polite hello to the man he saw out of the corner of his eye, and assumed to be a stranger. At that moment, Jack did the same.
~~~
The clock at the far end of the hall hit 1:04.
David was going to bolt.
They had been in this position, or just about, countless times before. David Banner, or John Doe, would be within his grasp, and then he would slip through his fingers. Jack would be left questioning his sanity, wondering if the man had really looked so much like that dead scientist, or if he was imagining things. Then he would push that thought away and write his latest piece on the Hulk, who'd been sighted in the city not ten hours ago.
But that wouldn't happen, this time. He had tracked the Hulk here only in the hopes of getting what closure he could, considering that this damned story had consumed his life for the better part of a decade. Now that he was standing at the end of a long hallway in a crummy hotel, less than a foot away from Dr. David Banner who was looking at him like a deer in headlights, that seemed kind of funny. Had he only found himself in this position a week ago....
The humor of the situation was quickly overwhelmed by exhaustion. What had Banner toyed with him for so long for? Running him around the country, saving his life one day and threatening it the next? Jack wasn't a cop, he wanted to talk to him, to get his story—yes he’d wanted to bring the Hulk to justice, but clearly all wasn’t what it had once seemed. Now he just wanted to understand.
He couldn't let this be the same as every other close call: Jack needed to say something.
~~~
The clock at the far end of the hall still sat at 1:04.
David was going to bolt.
McGee had an outstretched hand on one wall, allowing him to take up much of the small hallway. David could try to duck under his arm, or slip around his other side: either would lead to a physical confrontation, there just wasn't enough room. There was a window behind him, but they were on the hotel's fourth floor. To go crashing out of it in his normal form was inadvisable, to say the least.
He was scared. Scared, and little sad. That it would really end like this was rough. But what if it didn't end—what if he started to feel threatened, and changed? The Hulk didn't kill, but he would leave McGee with worse than a broken leg at this proximity.
Still, David couldn't allow himself to be caught. He had to do something.
"That Hulk story of mine got dropped."
~~~
David blinked.
"Really," McGee continued, "No progress in years, the readers aren’t interested anymore. They killed the story dead, this time."
"I, um... I'm sorry," David replied, lamely.
"Don't be—I didn't do my job."
The two men looked at each other in tense silence. David faintly registered the tick of the clock hitting 1:05.
"Are you gonna invite me in, David?" asked McGee.
"I…“
"Oh, or do you prefer 'John'? Don't tell me it's 'Mike', again."
He blushed faintly. At least he knew it wasn't worth trying that.
"Why not?" David said. "Come in, Mr. McGee."
He swung open the door, entering first (if he held it for his guest, he surely wouldn't take the bait). As they sat down on opposite ends of a ratty couch, McGee pulled a flask from his pocket.
"Have a drink," he said, handing it over, "I'm already three shots ahead of you."
"So that's why you're taking this so well," David said, with a strained smile. He took a swig, wincing as he was immediately reminded that he didn't drink very often.
“Oh, I’m just too overwhelmed to feel anything right now,” McGee replied, “Give me a few minutes, maybe I’ll have a mental breakdown.”
He handed the flask back over. "What do you want, Mr. McGee?"
"'Jack', please. Don't tell me you've forgotten our weekend in the mountains," he added, raising his eyebrows.
David looked at him incredulously, as Jack drank from the flask. He wondered if he'd had more to drink than he had said.
"You, uh, didn't answer my question, Jack."
"I want an explanation. You jerked me around for a long time. What..." He laughed tiredly, before continuing; "What the fuck happened to you?"
David sighed. The thought had crossed his mind that Jack was lying about the story getting dropped, and this could be a strange trick. But he was uncommonly relaxed, playful even, a far cry from the last time they’d seen each other.
"Okay."
"Hm?" Jack sat up a little, looking at David with surprise.
"Okay, I'll tell you what happened," he said, before taking another swig of liquid courage. He looked the other man up and down, jokingly adding; "You're not wearing a wire, are you?"
"Come take a look, if you're concerned,” said Jack, running his hand down his chest.
He had definitely had more to drink than he had said.
~~~
The clock in David's room read 12:43, not that it mattered since the thing was busted. He had been talking for about an hour, and had only gotten through some of the story; the accident in the lab and his first few years on the run. At some point, he had gotten up and started pacing. Frankly, he was beginning to feel self-conscious.
"When did you realize that I was John Doe, or that I was the Hulk?" David asked, "For that matter, when did you realize that I was alive?”
Jack looked at him thoughtfully.
"Sort of at the same time," he said with a shrug, "But I told myself that was crazy, and John was just involved in the experiment. Then there was that Mike Cassidy business—I still don't understand that."
"Neither do I," David admitted.
"The second time I ran into John, I realized he sounded the same as Cassidy, Cassidy looked the same as you..." He rested his head in one hand. "I didn't know what to do with that, I thought I'd cracked. I'm not sure I haven't now."
David felt a pang of sympathy. He sat down again, this time next to him.
"You really are handling this very well," he said.
Jack laughed. “You have a great bedside manner... I think I've told you that once before. You're comforting the guy who's made your life hell."
"That's not fair. I look in the mirror if I wanna see that guy."
"David—“
"You only cost me some opportunities."
"I remember shooting you with a tranquilizer."
"I shot you back."
Jack opened his mouth to make a retort, then closed it again.
“God, we are quite a pair,” he said, rubbing his face, “I think I’m about ready for that mental breakdown.”
To his surprise, David put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“I, um… I really did come to like you, when we were stranded in the mountains. That didn’t change when my memories came back.“
The two men locked eyes. David wondered if he should have kept that to himself; Jack was looking at him very cautiously, now. Then again, he had started the sweet talk earlier.
“Well… I’m obviously fairly keen on you, too.” Jack paused, and cleared his throat. “I’ve kind of missed John. Like I said at the time, I don’t have many friends.”
“In spite of everything, I consider you a friend, Jack.”
He relaxed, leaning a little against David.
“Like I said, we’re quite a pair.”
For a while, they just sat together in silence. David wondered at one point if the other man had fallen asleep, but soon he asked;
“So, where to next?”
“Hm?”
“Well, you’re not planning on staying here. Where are we heading?”
“We?” asked David, pulling away a little in surprise. “Jack, look—“
“You didn’t think you were getting rid of me, just because I won’t be writing that story,” he said, with a wry smile, “I finally got ahold of you!”
“Y-you’ve got a life to lead, Jack! You can’t just drop everything to follow me to the next doctor or meditation guru or…” He trailed off, noting the serious expression on his friend’s face.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that’s what I’ve been doing,” he said, “Only now it won’t be so lonely; for either of us.”
David spent a few moments wracking his brain for a counter argument. In spite of himself, he was rather pleased when he didn’t find one.
“…Oh well. I’d never have gotten away from you, anyway,” he smiled, “You don’t give up easy.”