veryintelligentsystem | PSL for cracked

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The silo would only remain empty and private for so long, and then they would have to move on to make room. Like Jarvis had said, it was only a temporary solution, and so after a couple of weeks resting, orienting themselves, and finally arranging for transportation, along with the delivery of months' worth of dry rations, he and Bruce had relocated to the middle of nowhere, outside of Irkutsk just far enough that they could barely see the city skyline, and the city couldn't see them at all.

It was quiet out here, desolate, seemingly completely isolated, and perfect.

The Iron Legion put down the heaviest of the luggage, before powering itself down and standing beside the door like a statue staring straight ahead. Jarvis was looking over the front sitting room of the large cabin they'd found themselves in, wiping his fingers through the thin layer of dust atop one of the shelves.

"Untouched," he murmured, looking satisfied as he turned back to Bruce once he heard the man coming up the front steps. "We'll have to reconnect the electricity, but outside of that, it will be completely livable in no time at all. Trips into the city will be scarce at best. There are hot springs here as well, should you feel up to braving a slightly less private setting. Much of the tourist revenue here comes from the main springs, but there are other wells out of the general public's eye."

As he talked, Jarvis started to make his way around the room, opening a few windows. The wind was absolutely frigid, but they would need to air the place and shake off some of the dust before turning on the heat.

If anyone were to scan for them out here, they would find all instance of heat or telecommunications completely nil. The house itself may have been a simple cabin, but it was very well protected. There were a few very good reasons for Jarvis' choice to move them out here.

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Bruce had been restless to get moving again. When he'd been on the run, he found it very difficult to settle down again until he was holed away somewhere he considered safe. So it had been almost a relief to get moving again, back on the run and road.

The less familiar part was not being alone. The rumbles in his head and chest had settled as Hulk adjusted to the idea that this was Jarvis, the familiar, soothing voice of the tower. By the time they reached the cabin, Hulk had begun to ignore Jarvis' presence (which was outright acceptance from him) and even Bruce was sort of adapting to having someone there. Having Jarvis there.

He dropped his own bag once he was inside and the door was shut, taking everything in in silence before nodding slightly. "This... is amazing. It reminds me of a place I stayed for a while after Harlem. A lot nicer. But there's similarities."

"It will be an interesting experience, adjusting to having a place completely to ourselves. If you find yourself starting to get restless again, there is a great deal to do that I rather doubt you would be all that interested in doing."

Jarvis smiled faintly as he said it, heading up the stairs to the second story and opening a couple of doors there as well. Fully furnished, with trappings one could only really describe as 'rustic'. It was all warm tones, shades of brown or cream with a hint of plaid where the bedding was concerned. Warm blankets, empty wardrobes, a bathroom without soaps or toiletries, though they had those with them, just needing to be put away.

"Locate a lantern," he called down from the doorway of one of three bedrooms. "You'll need light to see by when you go down into the basement to locate the generators. There should be a sealed canister of gasoline as well, for the backup in case the main generator is non-functional."

"I, I don't know how good I really am at cohabiting." The tower was different. The tower had lots of space and Bruce had often vanished to his lab and not seen people for a couple of days.

"I have a torch in my bag, I can go down and get that generator up and running." It was something that wasn't standing there gaping and being generally a bit out of sorts with it all. He dug out his torch from his bag and wandered until he found the door to the basement.

It was cold down there, brittle and piercing, but not at cold as the biting wind of outside. He swung the torch around until he located the engine and could crouch in front of it, looking it over.

A hard pull on the ripcord didn't start it. He tugged a couple of more times and then opened the panel and looking in.

A tiny bit of rust. Easily enough fixed. He went upstairs to get an old toothbrush. "We'll have power soon. Just need to clean off a connection or two."

"Excellent. I can set about making something to eat and start on putting together a proper closed system in one of the rooms here. ...would you prefer the larger or smaller?" Jarvis leaned over the rail that ran across the upper walkway, watching Bruce as he searched for something to scrub at the rust with. He personally had no preference, aside from 'it can be lived in', so a majority of his choices from here would be based on what made Bruce more comfortable. All in all, not a terrible arrangement.

"I- I don't mind." He didn't. There were four walls and a bed, so it already met his requirements for staying in for more than one night. "Whatever's more convenient for you. Just staying here is more than I ever expected for my time back out on my own."

Not on the run. On his own sounds less like a teenaged temper tantrum and more like a responsible choice, which it was.

He grabs his old toothbrush and heads back down into the basement. He scrubs up the connections (a wire brush might've been a better choice, but he can fix that if it becomes an issue) and closes the panel, pulling to start the generator again.

It takes a couple of goes, and then it whirrs up, humming to life and the indicator lights brightening.

Jarvis glanced around at the assurance that the choice was his, and after taking quick measurements as well as factoring in how Bruce tended to react when he didn't feel safe, he took the smaller of the two rooms. There wasn't much in either bedroom just yet, but that would change before the month was out.

After mapping out where he would need to locate the initial monitoring station, he headed down to the basement to see if he might be able to help. They could start the electricity and warm the place up that much faster that way. Of course, on his way down the stairs, the generator started and a light overhead buzzed and flickered on. He smiled faintly and laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"With that done, the boiler will have started and before long we'll have hot water." He looked quite pleased by the idea, and there was a ridiculous urge that suddenly surfaced that he very quickly shut out. Not inappropriate, but he really doubted that Bruce would appreciate suddenly being hugged. He barely seemed to care for the smaller gestures of affection that involved touching, which Jarvis had been actively trying to curb after those first days. He still slipped, though. He would say it was habit, if not for having never actually touched anyone before the day he'd gone to rescue Bruce.

Bruce managed not to jump, had heard footsteps and knew Jarvis was there but it still took effort to stifle the reaction. He had become so attuned to touch meaning pain, hurt, kidnap, Hulk out that he feared he'd never have normal reactions again.

The sad thing was, he was so starved for genuine contact, but could not initiate it and would struggle to accept it. He hugged himself, nodding and looking slightly pleased that he managed to get the generator up and running with minimal fuss.

"Al means we can start cooking food if we want.."

"Cooking, washing up, washing clothes later on even. Not all at the same time though, the hot water supply isn't as long-lasting as the silo's. But it will suffice to keep us and our belongings clean."

Jarvis smiled faintly and gave Bruce's shoulder a companionable squeeze, then turned and headed back up the stairs. Part of his processing had devoted itself to analyzing the way Bruce had hugged himself, hoping that it was an unconscious thing rather than being uncomfortable. His conclusion was that it seemed to be a bit of both. He wondered which would be more beneficial, acclimating Bruce to casual touch, or avoiding it altogether. The latter wasn't very appealing to him personally, but he was still analyzing why that was. It just didn't make logical sense to him.

Maybe he should bring it up to Bruce. He was the one with actual experience with the less reasonable functions of human beings at large, while his own perspective was a bit skewed given who he was tasked to observe most closely. But the reactions only seemed to have begun after the two of them had started interacting truly face to face, and his internal monitors were giving him the most obvious answers, but it still didn't make sense. This body shouldn't have been capable of producing this kind of hormone-based affectionate attachment.

Bruce knew Jarvis was behaving slightly... odd. Not off, or bad, just, a touch different. Maybe it was just getting used to one another, travelling so far in closed quarters with one another.

He double checked the generator was working before following Jarvis upstairs and closing the basement door. "Well, with only two, there's less pressure to use huge amounts of hot water. Most of my clothes are chosen on the basis they can be washed in a cold wash." Stretch had become less a problem, so it had been easy to care for and hard wearing.

He wandered around, just looking and taking it in, arms still wrapped around himself, just an old comfort habit. "Tonight, I might be thoroughly indulgent and have a bath if we have the water."

"I think within the next few hours the water will have begun to heat up fully, but I believe that nobody has run the water here in quite some time, so it may be stagnant for the first few moments after turning on the faucet," Jarvis advised as he headed for the kitchen, going through the cupboards to pick out a couple of pots. They would have to be washed, dusty as they were, but then he could simply heat the water on the stove. They had a variety of sauce mixes and a hell of a lot of pasta, so they could easily make as big a meal for themselves as they needed.

He started to head back to where the heaviest of their belongings had been placed, intending to find the food and a couple of washcloths and towels, but he paused, just observing the way Bruce was moving through the cabin, hugging himself almost absentmindedly. Jarvis' head tilted a bit.

"Sir-" damn it. He still hadn't completely broken himself of that habit either, it seemed. "If you would indulge me a moment." He stepped forward cautiously once he was sure he wasn't taking Bruce by surprise, and first laid his hands on the other man's arms, then wrapped his arms around Bruce, his cheek pressed lightly against the side of Bruce's head. It was nothing if not painfully awkward, but he did want to test a couple of different theories, and he knew at least the man trusted him, even if the Hulk hadn't quite gotten there yet.

Bruce hummed absently, agreeing about the water needing to run for a bit to get the pipes flushed and clean. They'd have to run all the faucets, flush everything of dirt and whatever life had settled in there.

He paused as Jarvis did, looking at him and quirking a brief smile at the inadvertent use of 'sir'. He had no doubt it would take a while to break that habit completely, if he ever managed it.

Then Jarvis was moving in and Bruce straightened a little, arms relaxing and- oh.

That definitely felt like a hug. He froze, shoving down the immediate reaction from inside of restrained, trapped, free. Yeah, definitely a hug, that cheek on his head thing was, new. He hadn't hugged anyone bigger than him in... maybe ever.

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Jarvis and patted his back. Yep. Awkward.

In spite of the awkwardness, it still felt rather good.Nevertheless, Jarvis soon let go, his curiosity somewhat satisfied for the time being.

"That was supposed to have been reassuring. I don't think that came across very well," he mused, then went back to what he was doing in the kitchen, turning on the warm and cold taps to flush out the kitchen faucet. While it was running, he started to dust the insides of the pots with a spare rag, then rinsed them out once the water had run clear. He was still thinking, still analyzing, but the readouts stayed confined to the lens of his left eye rather than projected.

"... it probably works better on someone who doesn't associate physical contact with threat," Bruce pointed out as Jarvis headed off again. He watched him for a moment, wondering what had inspired the sudden desire to try and hug. Was it his body language? Was it something he read from Bruce's vitals?

"Can I ask where that came from?"

"That was precisely why I wanted your attention before I attempted it. I imagine that if I'd told you exactly what was coming, it wouldn't have had quite the same effect. Or, if anything, it might have made it slightly more uncomfortable."

Jarvis spoke without looking up, intent in the task he'd given himself. He frowned slightly at the question, mostly at himself as he felt his cheeks start to burn once more. Curse this body's obvious reactions...

"Partially to gauge whether you were cold, or anxious. It is more difficult to take readings from a distance. There is also...the matter of this body reacting to stimuli that by all rights it should either not be capable of, or should be a good deal more muted due to the nature of the synthetic portion of its construction. I am still learning how to inhabit it, after all."

There. Logical, reasonable, not at all suspicious.

"I... don't know if it would have been awkward or not," he admitted. He hadn't found hugging particularly easy since his mother died. Even with Betty, he'd been awkward and unsure and she had usually initiated any contact. "More awkward. I'm not good at hugging. Or... physical interactions at all outside a hand shake."

Tony had been a blessing and a curse in that regard. He never made Bruce think it was friendly contact and then shocked him, but he did have a habit of shocking him, poking him and otherwise trying to get to see Hulk in his eyes.

"Hang on, you're having biological reactions? Well, I suppose, why not, you need to eat and sleep, though all engines need rest and fuel, biological or synthetic, but you're having those reactions to interactions?"

"Completely understandable," Jarvis replied at Bruce's mostly needless explanation of how bad he was at physical contact. Tony likely hadn't helped with that either; for all he had been amicable enough with Bruce, he also really liked to poke and prod and generally aggravate, just to see what would happen. At least the man had had the sense not to program him with such tendencies.

"Interactions and ideas. It may seem trivial to virtually anyone else, but for all intents and purposes, I may as well be a child, feeling things where I never had the capacity before. I want to say that it will go away with time, but there are certain ones that only strengthen I as I try to cope with them. It's worrying."

Tony probably hadn't done Bruce any favours in that regard, but the man's total lack of fear of him had helped balance it out.

"No, not trivial, not at all. I hadn't realised you were having biological reactions as well, or I would've..." What? Tried harder? Been exactly the same?

"Emotions are normal, I suppose, given you're not pure synthetic anymore. To be expected. And they'll do that. You can't control them, only your reactions to them. Trust me on this, I'm something of an expert these days."

"For the most part, my physical health is completely fine. And as far as controlling my reactions is concerned, it doesn't seem to be working quite as well as I like to think it does." Yes, he'd noticed the look on Bruce's face whenever the red would creed back up on him. It was mildly infuriating, but there wasn't much he could think of that would stop it happening.

"Bruce. I have taken detailed analyses of the various reactions over the last month. I believe I know what it is, but it still makes very little sense to me, given both the minutiae that trigger it and that it's happening without triggering subsequent, baser instincts."

Bruce leant his hip against a counter, watching Jarvis. "Do you want to talk it out with me, or are you planning on gathering further evidence for analysis before you talk it out?"

He was happy to go over it, but he could also comfortably leave it. Whichever Jarvis needed from him right now.

This was going to be difficult. Bruce was willing to talk with him about it now, but how long would that last once it was all laid out plain? Jarvis was anxious. Knowing how people tended to react, he doubted it would make it easy for them to occupy the same house.

But Bruce deserved to hear his findings. They would be a point of scientific curiosity, and it would put it to rest so Bruce would at least stop looking at him as if he'd just said something truly odd.

"One of the conclusions that I'd managed to reach is that I may be experiencing emotional attachment, of the sort that is generally accompanied by physical affection, though I lack any such urge to act on such things beyond what would be deemed appropriate in polite company. Popular culture refers to it as asexuality, which feels appropriate given the circumstances. In short, I seem to have inclinations of the, for lack of a better term, romantic variety. And given that you are one of the only two people I have interacted with at length since coming into this new condition, it is easy enough to narrow down the cause."

And now he just felt somewhat deflated. His face wasn't pink, and he wasn't standing up quite as straight upright as he normally did. He was focusing on scrubbing a tough bit of clinging something from the inside of the pot, brow furrowed deeply. He wasn't afraid of rejection, not really, but he doubted that Bruce would be at all comfortable with the idea.

Bruce listened. He didn't quite manage to hide his surprise, but in a way, it made sense. Like a teenager, Jarvis was having the first flushes of chemicals and hormones and emotions and they were going to focus on the person who was there.

"Oh. I don't think I would've had the courage to say that, in your circumstances. Or any circumstances, actually." He rocked on his feet, hands shoving into his pockets. "Well... if there's anything I can do to not make you uncomfortable, please tell me."

What else could he really say? Jarvis knew him a lot better than he knew Jarvis, especially this Jarvis. But Jarvis didn't necessarily know himself very well and Bruce may have simply been convenient for emerging emotions. Which Jarvis would know was possible and Bruce couldn't say if it was or wasn't.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what else to say. I could give platitudes, but I'm not the sort and I respect you more than that. I could say that I'm not worth that sort of emotional investment, but I've learned it's not up to me to decide how others feel about me." He looked up at Jarvis, as comfortable as he ever was, despite the confession.

"I felt that you deserved to know that you were the object of affection, whether it be misplaced or not. My hope is that it will fade in time. I would not expect it returned, or an attempt to be made on your part. My exposure to people in this form has been limited after all, and you have been a partner and a friend to me for long enough that you could be trusted with such things."

Logically, he felt this was for the best. He looked back at Bruce and gave a very Tony-like shrug, then set about filling the pot and finally turning the stove on to heat it. It was good to have things to do with his hands, something to distract him from the dull sort of ache in his sternum, behind where the arc reactor rested. He refused to be ruled by unreasonable emotions.

This was making it a bit easier to understand a few actions he'd witnessed over the years, though. He would treat it as a continuing learning experience.

Edited 2016-05-08 05:49 (UTC)

"I couldn't, anyway." Bruce shrugged, turning away and starting to check other utensils and plates, wiping them down. "I can't risk attachment. He... the Other Guy. He doesn't like it."

It wasn't about sex. He got aggressive about people he liked, trying to protect them, or trying to force Bruce away from them. Maybe it was the same thing to Hulk.

"We feel the same things. What I care about, he cares about. What I hate, he hates. And it leads to... a lot of smash, really. An awful lot smash. Not of those people. Other things. Everything." He didn't want to have to explain the darker bits, of what Hulk hated most. But he didn't want to hurt Jarvis either.

He was, really, the only friend he had.

"And if I were to be threatened, he would flatten everything around us to make sure that whatever was causing the problem would simply cease to be." Jarvis understood that much about Hulk, at least. When the big guy had a goal in mind, absolutely nothing stood a chance. There simply wasn't any tempering that. Attempts had been made, but there was always some risk that Hulk just wouldn't listen.

He might have been interested to hear what other things went on in the mind of the Other Guy, but he wouldn't badger for it. He cared a great deal about Bruce, and he did worry about the mindstate of both man and Hulk. That much anger inside anyone just wasn't safe, especially for the person wielding it.

After a few moments' contemplative silence, Jarvis reached out a damp hand, giving Bruce's shoulder an easy squeeze. "Regardless of how smashy things might get, we are still friends, I would hope."

"If you were unhappy, he'd smash everything to make it go away." That simple. He'd done some horrific things for Betty. Wanted to do more.

He kept rocking on his feet, just a small back and forth motion as he set out plates and bowls. The touch made him jump slightly, but then he looked back with a soft smile. "Of course. I have few enough friends that I won't throw one away because they care for me."

"Fortunately for both of us, it doesn't take much to keep me happy." He smiled faintly at that, picking a large box of pasta out of the crate holding a lot more of the stuff, then taking a handful and breaking it in half before placing it in the gently steaming water. He did that a couple more times, knowing full well Bruce's appetite when there was actually enough to go around.

A thought occurred to him as he prodded the noodles around with a wooden spoon, and he laughed.

"Imagine what the others would say...An AI suddenly afflicted with feelings. The teasing would never end."

Bruce kept half heartedly cleaning and putting things away, but the last statement made him laugh. Just a little bit.

"Afflicted, hm? I'm not sure afflicted is the word most would use. Surely it would be, to many, the sign of the ultimate progression of self. To be able to feel, rather than simply rationalise."

"There are many throughout history who would curse the emotions that come with being an organic thing. I find it enlightening, personally, but there are times when it is quite inconvenient."

He had nightmares. He remembered his death. He had a great many regrets, but he didn't let them hold him back. Bruce was right, though.

"I am glad to be able to feel. But I am still learning to process the new input alongside my original programming. There are aspects that I can't control. You could say that I'm not used to that."

"It's all those things." Enlightening, frustrating, wonderful, a curse, a blessing... He had complicated opinions on emotions. Especially these days.

Humans started as nothing but emotion and processing power and worked towards logic. Jarvis was coming form the other direction, a being of logic and thought working into emotions. he could try and imagine what it was like, but ultimately, he couldn't. He couldn't imagine not being angry. It was too alien.

In his chest, there was a soft growl and push. He made a soft shushing sound, rubbing a hand over his sternum. His time with the team had taught him to accept Hulk's presence in a way he couldn't before. And, ironically, gave him much better control over his monster by accepting it in some way.

"A loss of control is terrifying to anything. From fairly simple animals to creatures like you and me. Being out of control is frightening."

"I remember...the first thing I truly felt, when I awoke the first time in this body. It was fear."

Not unlike a child first learning how to process the world without context. He had all of that context, but there was still that terror. Thinking about it brought it back, but it was muted now.

"I want to learn to exist in my own skin. Activity helps. Having goals that don't require being still. Other parts of me can process it while I work."

"I think that's the first thing all of us feel... we just don't remember it, fortunately."

Bruce's first memories were all full of fear. Fear, then anger. The two were fairly closely tied for him.

"I'm sorry. Again. For my part in all of that."

Hulk growled and shoved against his chest, thumping for freedom, to smash for causing that fear. He felt his pulse on reflex, gaze casting down while he spoke. "What can I do to help that?"

Jarvis frowned deeply and laid his hand flat against Bruce's chest, his head bowed and angled so that he could look the other man in the face. He lowered his voice, hoping that Hulk was listening as well.

"You don't have to keep apologizing. I've already forgiven the both of you for it. I want to be able to do this for myself, though. All I'd ask from you is that you have patience with me while I blunder around trying to be human."

It took a bit of bending, Bruce wasn't tall and the way he hunched only tended to add to that.

When he did glance up, there was a hint of green in his eyes, but not anything that suggested he was losing control. Just a little bit, just him listening.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not great at being people either, so I won't hold you learning against you." He hesitated, then brought his hand up to cover Jarvis' on his chest. "Thank you."

Unlike most times that Hulk poked his head out in any way, there was no fear, just a small smile meant for both of them. Jarvis stood back upright and gave Bruce's shoulder another squeeze with his free hand, then drew away to prod at the pasta in its pot.

"Would you mind finding what you might like on this? I'm not sure how appetizing plain noodles are to you, but personally I would like them to have a bit more substance." He was teasing, of course, but it felt right to lighten the mood a little bit. He had, as Tony might have said, just made it weird. Now he needed to fix it.

"Mm, yeah." Bruce broke away, heading to rummage through cans and jars. "There's canned tomatoes and some dried herbs, I can make something out of that. Can you put a saucepan on the heat for me?"

This, Bruce could deal with easily. Get them fed on whatever there was, settled in to the house. He came back with the tin and packets and a car opener and started making a sauce.

Jarvis had a pan sitting on low heat by the time Bruce returned, and stood back to watch. He might have started getting...sort of alright at cooking in the time that he'd been walking around, but he knew that Bruce would be a lot better at feeding them both on what they had on hand, They could get more sent along eventually, but there wasn't much that they could order in bulk by way of fresh ingredients.

When the kitchen had begun to smell like stewing tomato, he finally left, hoping to move a few things that they'd brought along upstairs. He activated the Legion to assist, and started upstairs. He would be moving furniture around, making quite a bit of noise as he did so, while Bruce finished taking care of the food. He would need to sleep after the exertion, he knew that much, but that could wait until a more appropriate hour.

Bruce focused on food. Stirring, mixing, tasting to get the balance. He'd had to learn to fend for himself young and he had got really sick of packet food before he even reached college.

He listened to the noise, but kept his attention mostly on the pasta and the sauce. Jarvis would call if he needed anything–hopefully–and this was really the next step to getting settled in. Power on, water heating, food, then some winding down.

"Jarvis! Food's ready!"

He drained the pasta in the sauce, stirred and start pouring into bowls.

The racket ceased with the announcement, and one set of footsteps headed back down the stairs. Jarvis had finally removed the outer sweater he'd been wearing, and rolled up the sleeves of the much thinner one underneath. He glanced from Bruce to the bowls, taking one as well as a fork as soon as it was put down.

"Fantastic. Thank you," he said cheerfully, before moving to settle himself at the small table that was settled into the corner of the kitchen as a makeshift dining room. He paused, then headed back into the front room, retrieving a couple of bottles of the generic sports drink that had been stocked in the silo. It was better than just plain water, which hs didn't quite want to hazard just yet until all of the pipes had been flushed.

"When this is done, we should try and air some of the bedclothes. They're bound to be as dusty as the rest of this place," he pointed out before setting into his food, rather enthusiastic about a meal after a few days of not touching anything.

Bruce put water in the pan to stop it from sticking and then came to join Jarvis at the table. He gave a small nod of thanks at the drink and then started eating.

Not bad. Not with the time and what was on hand.

"Mm. Yeah, a good shake out and some time hanging for most of them will do it. They might be a bit musty, but it's all clean, at least." Which was really not his minimum requirement, sadly.

Jarvis gestured back toward the front door with his fork, taking a moment to clear his mouth of pretty edible spaghetti. "The porch railing outside will be good for that, at least. We can do that, finish getting the largest part of all of this put away, and then...I suppose we've earned a real rest, in a real house, wouldn't you say?"

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