Illyana Rasputin had known from day one that the Super Human Registration Act was yet another disaster waiting to happen. They government had tried the same thing with Mutants before, with varying degrees of bloodshed. Doctor Strange was a practical man, perhaps the most level headed person she knew, save Professor Xavier. However, it was that same practicality that had him taken. He put too much trust in the other side to do what he believed was the sensible thing. Fear made people stupid, reactionary... They would attack anyone that didn't fit into their mantra because that was the safe thing to do. Clea had allowed Janet Van Dyne into the Sanctum, despite her allegiances, out of compassion and respect for their previous relationship. She betrayed that trust by not only stealing a powerful artifact, but proceeding to use it for reasons still unknown to them. Given the gem’s known thrall, it had to be assumed it wouldn't be it's last use either. The Soul Gem could not be allowed to remain outside the protection of the sanctum. If her and Clea could feel the effects of the gem’s use, there was no telling what other beings already knew it's location. With such potent energy, it was only a matter of time before someone else chose to go after it. And she severely doubted that Ms. Van Dyne was capable of conjuring the sort of wards necessary to keep the gem contained. Clea understood the risk, but the fact that they had Doctor Strange as a hostage made retrieval difficult. Any move made against Van Dyne could potentially be brought down on him. Unless, of course, it was someone the enemy didn't know. It was fortunate that, up until now, her tutelage under the Sorcerer Supreme had remained mostly uncommon knowledge. The use of stepping disks as entry and exit points made the risk minimal. The only problem was determining its exact location. The use of the gem had generated a magical shock wave in the area, but nothing concrete. Under Doctor Strange’s instruction she had learned many things, including the capabilities of several artifacts in his possession. The one she needed was not difficult to acquire. It lay on the desk in his study, as if it has simply been discarded there by mistake. No, what was difficult was finding the courage to use it. The Eye of Agamotto felt cold and heavy in her hands, it's golden surface dull. Illyana cupped her palms around it, closing her eyes as she reached out to the Vishanti. “I know I'm not Doctor Strange, I may not ever be close. But even if you are not mine to wield, I want to help. This is how I can do that.” There was a flash of light and for the briefest of moments, she was magic, energy racing across the mystical ley lines of New York City. There was a street, a building, a room then as quickly as the vision appeared it vanished. The light faded, leaving her alone with the knowledge she had been seeking. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” -------------- Stark Tower was a monolith of a building, complete with a state of the art security system, practically impenetrable walls, and one cocky billionaire. Fortunately, whatever disintegration rays or slaughterbots he had couldn't do much about teleportation. Getting in was as easy as a thought. With a flash of smoke and hellfire, Illyana stepped into the suite, dispelling the portal behind her. She unsheathed her Soul Sword, it's light casting a ghostly glow on the immaculate room around her. In the half darkness, it was easy to make out the body of a sleeping Janet Van Dyne. Leaning casually against the wall, sword slung over one shoulder, she used a boot to kick the overstuffed mattress. “Sorry to wake you, but you took something of mine that I’d really like back.”
Fruitlessly, and not for the first time since he’d been locked in, Hank pulled his hands against the cuffs and tried to straighten his back against the restraints. It wasn’t the restraints themselves that were so uncomfortable, but the position in which they kept him. Some time between their friends leaving and now, a clock had sounded not far away. Hank couldn’t tell from where, as he couldn’t turn to look for it. By the time it sounded a second time--the only way he could tell the time, as his wristwatch was on the wrong side of the cuff--he finally allowed himself a sideways glance at his wife. As small as she was, she could almost stand up straight and her hands looked as if they could almost slip free. Almost--there might have been some magic or technology keeping her from slipping free; the same technology that kept either of them from shrinking out of the restraints.
“Do you want to say it, or should I?” Jan broke the silence.
“Jan--I don’t want to hear it.” Whether it was one of her apologies or a plea for his, Hank was still far too angry with her to have this discussion.
“It looks like we made fools of ourselves; lock, stock, and barrel.”
Hank shot her a look of reprehension. He could see that Jan was trying to break the tension, but he didn’t want it broken. Tension felt pretty good right about now; she deserved tension--he wanted her to realize the gravity of what she’d done and stew in embarrassment of it for the rest of the night. Admittedly...that was a good one. At any other moment, he might have laughed. Somehow, it bothered him even more that she’d ruined a perfectly good joke she could have used at another time by telling it now.
“Well, it could be worse. At least nobody’s throwing rotten food at us.”
Hank pulled again at the cuffs and repositioned his chin to take some of the weight and relieve his neck. After a few seconds, he found he couldn’t breathe like this and bent his knees in a half-squat.
“I’ll bet Susan told you.”
She seemed so genuinely disgruntled with her friend, and that was finally what pushed Hank over the edge. She was acting as if Sue had any more responsibility for Jan than Jan herself did. “Don’t put this on Sue.”
“So it was he--.”
“I said it’s not her fault.” He spoke up to cut her off. He fumed, and, thankfully, Jan didn’t try to add anything else to that.
Back inside, behind them, and on the rooftop of the palace, music played and the occasional whoop of laughter could be heard through the night. Perhaps several of the nearby houses and shops could overhear the royals’ partying. After a few long minutes, the song stopped, and a chirping sounded in the distance. He bent his head towards the noise, and found a crick was in the process of developing. Lights came from just over the wall. Perhaps they were Asgardian fireflies that chirped and chimed. They didn’t seem bothered when the music started again. “I’m glad she told me what was going on.”
“What?”
Hank turned to face her. “I said, I’m glad she told me--can you fix that?” She’d worn one of her stupid dresses that was cut so low that, bent over as she was in the stocks or from the manhandling that got her there, one of her breasts had more or less worked its way free. He looked out at the dark palace grounds to avert his eyes. When that proved to be less comfortable than it had been earlier in the evening, looked directly down to save his neck from further strain.
“Oh, sure, let me get right on that,” she said with a sarcastic bite to her voice that Hank didn’t quite understand until he heard her bracelets jingling against the stocks.
“Can’t you just...adjust yourself?”
“Not like this, I can’t. Why don’t you adjust the pencil end of your tie about eight inches?”
“I know you’re angry...and you’ve got the right.” He heard tapping against the flagstone, and looked up to see Jan’s long, billowing skirt all the way up to her chest, and it took a moment to understand what she was doing.
She stood on one leg, and was trying to use her knee and the post to move the fabric of her dress. But after a minute of this, she got frustrated and put her leg down, having been entirely unsuccessful. “Whatever,” she muttered, “they’re always out, anyway.” She looked like she was on the edge of tears.
“They sure were tonight--”
“Henry Jonathan Pym,” she screeched, “you EAT THAT!” As Jan’s screams got louder, she stamped her high heels. “You scheming bully, you take it back!” Hank thought for a minute she was going to find a way to rip herself out of the confines and come after him. “Take it back! TAKE IT BACK! AAAAHHHHHHH!” Jan’s face grew red as she pulled and screamed. She carried on for several minutes, until tears and snot rolled down her face and onto the flagstone with moist drops and splats, and Hank almost thought she’d pull her own head off in the process.
Eventually, she either ran out of tears to cry, or she tired herself out. Jan could no more wipe her face than she could fix her dress, but she snorted and sniffled when she was finally done.
Up on the rooftop, the band played on.
Hank stayed quiet for a moment longer. No quip should ever have warranted such a violent reaction, and now he only wanted to hold her, to wash her face with cool water. It was red and swollen now, and not just because of him, and he wanted to help, if he could. “Do you...want to talk about it?” There wasn’t much else to do, like this, when they could no more sleep it off, hug it out, or get some space.
“No.” She sniffled again, this time with more force. “Not particularly.”
“I’ll say. You scared me.”
Jan laughed cold and mercilessly. “You’re one to talk.”
Hank’s hands formed fists, then relaxed enough to grip the edge of the cuffs. He took a great effort to calm himself before explaining, “I thought you were going to hurt yourself.”
“So what if I did?”
“So what? Jan, I love you--”
“Do you?” she said, still in that horrible laughing voice. It made her seem insane and unreasonable.
“What kind of question is that?” He opened his hands, palm up, “of course I love you; you’re the mother of my child.”
“Knew it.” Her peeved, cold voice rang across the courtyard.
“Knew what?” What had he said this time to get her so angry?
“You only love me because of Junior.”
Hank was immediately speechless. Jan seemed to understand the gravity of what she’d said because she started tugging at her wrists and neck fastens, with less violence than before, but more intent, muttering, “no no no no no.”
Hank let her struggle for a moment--he only loved her because of Junior? Of course he loved their son, and of course he loved Jan for having made their son. “How can you possibly think that?” They’d spent years together before starting a family, since practically the day she could date.
“You just said it, Hank. ‘Of course I love you; you’re the mother of my child.’ Well, I’m not stupid, Hank--I know what that means!” Hank had to wonder if, perhaps, she did manage to pull herself free, if she would pick up where they had left off on the roof. “It means I’m a big fat milky milk cow and there’s nothing left to love!” By the end, her voice was back to the chriscendo pitch.
“Jan--” It hurt Hank, physically hurt him to hear her talk about herself like this. “Jan, nobody thinks that of you. Who’s put this idea in your head?” He would have to track him down, next, as soon as he’d talked Jan back into her senses...and got himself free of the stocks.
“Oh, so now I can’t have original thoughts?” Her voice was heavily laden with sarcasm. “How about Junior, Hank? How about our son who cries when I come close, who cries, then eats, then cries again, then falls asleep, but not before he shits himself?”
“That’s...Jan, that’s all he does,” he pointed out. Jan seemed to think she was getting singled out with some kind of specially vindictive treatment by their son, but Henry wasn’t smart enough for that yet. He didn’t even know how to speak.
“No, he smiles at you.” Hank could hear the pout through Jan’s voice. “He laughs with you and Lacey and he’s sour with me; he hates me. I’m just a feeding mechanism. Isn’t that right, Biochem?”
How long Jan had felt like this, Hank couldn’t say. This was all new to him. If she’d been this upset for a week or a year, it was the first time he had heard any of it. “No? He loves you, Jan. He only has one Mommy.”
Jan didn’t argue further. She snorted and sniffed, and Hank heard something wet hit the ground, then she spat. “What time do you think it is?”
Hank tried, again, to glance at his watch, but found he still couldn’t. The chimes of the clock hadn’t sounded in a good long time. “I don’t know.”
“I’m really thirsty…”
“How much did you have to drink?”
She paused, then answered, “too much. I’m still thirsty.”
“No kidding.”
“Okay, smart-ass. One--” Hank heard a jingle of her bracelet as she lifted her fingers “--It’s been 16 months since I’ve had anything to drink. I’m entitled. Two--” another jingle “--I didn’t know you were going to get us thrown in the stocks, so maybe I could have gotten a glass of water.”
“I got us thrown in the stocks now?” Hank tried to swivel the whole stocks towards Jan, but when this a practice in the impossible, he turned his head again to the left. “Because I have a feeling we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t caused a scene.”
“Me, caused the scene? Are you sure you remember the scene correctly?”
“I seem to remember every guy at the party getting to know my wife a little too well!”
“Oh, every guy at the party, is it?”
“Oh, and that’s not justified? What else am I supposed to think--Sue tells me she pulled you off of Fandral, and when I come to check on you, you’re in Tony’s lap? TONY?”
“I’m telling you, it’s not what it looked like!”
Hank scoffed. “Really? Well, I’d love to hear--”
“It’snotwhatitlookedlike!”
He couldn’t keep the anger and snap out now. “Then what was it, Jan?” She stayed quiet, seething to herself. Hank wondered if, with all the laughter and whooping they could hear from the terrace, if they could hear Jan’s screams from down here, or if the noise got lost on the way up, so that the happy party goers could enjoy their time in peace. If they could hear, they didn’t come down to check on her wellbeing. The clock struck again, and Hank counted to seventeen, which told him nothing about the time of night. “Why did you--”
“I wanted to feel beautiful. It had nothing to do with either Fandral or Tony.”
This made no sense to Hank. “What does being beautiful have anything to do with cheating?”
“Have me wear the scarlet letter, will you? What I did wasn’t half as bad.”
“What do the two things have to do with one another?” he asked again.
“I really don’t want to talk about this, Hank.”
“Too late. You’re going to act like this; we’re going to talk about it. Jan, why did you need to do that to feel beautiful?”
He heard the jingling of the bracelets as she gestured with her hands for a moment. She seemed to be searching for words, so Hank didn’t interrupt her. “Because they don’t know I’m not.”
“You are--”
“No, I’m not,” she insisted. “They don’t know that my breasts are saggy and milky. They don’t know about the layers of loose, wrinkly belly that keeps hanging on, no matter how little I eat or how much I exercise. They’ve never seen the stretch marks from my breasts down to my knees. They don’t know I’m so mangled and so gnarled from getting stitched up that I can’t have sex. Nobody up there knows I’m broken and disgusting.” Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “You do.”
Hank could hardly believe what he’d just heard. None of this had even occurred to him that she felt this way. He’d never even noticed any of that, or cared. “I love you anyway...isn’t that better?”
“I know you like me because we made a crotchfruit.”
Eww. But more importantly, “do you really...is that what you call him?”
“Not to his face.”
“Who are you?” It didn’t seem so long ago that Jan had been perfectly happy with her new palace and her Avengers’ team and and her faerie tale life all put together. Somewhere between then and now, she’d bittered. It was as if she had aged ten liniar years and aged forty in cynicism. She had bittered to the point where she couldn’t smile at their child, never found herself at home, and had to cheat to feel self-worth.
“No, you don’t get to do that, Hank. You don’t get to pin this all on me. Tell me--did it make you feel like a big man to deck me like that? Huh? If we were out of the stocks, would you hit me again, for bringing it up?”
The accusation gripped Hank around the chest and made it hard to breathe for a minute. But he fought off the guilt. She had betrayed his trust, and besides--she was as capable a fighter as anyone else on that roof. “You’re acting like it’s completely indefensible to get angry when I see you curled up with another man--who makes you feel like I can’t make you feel--how am I supposed to react, Jan?”
“You didn’t know that at the time!”
“I didn’t need to! You betrayed my trust, Jan. Yeah, I got a little angry, but my face is still burning from that chemical sting of yours.”
“And my eye’s swollen shut!”
Hank looked up at her, but her left eye was on the far side and he couldn’t see. He supposed if he had been thinking, he really should have swung for Tony, but Hank had been so angry at Jan for being a fucking lying cheating adulteress that he hadn’t given it a second thought. He’d pulled her off Tony and decked her across the face, then she’d let loose with her stingers, which had left him blind enough for her to break something glass over his head. Blindly, Hank remembered scrambling for her, but something--Sue’s force field--kept getting in his way, then Vision had grabbed him from behind. The band had stopped playing, but Hank hadn’t noticed until the blood stopped rushing in his ears that everyone in the vicinity had stopped to watch. “Get off me,” he’d spat, trying to recover, but neither Vision nor Sue were willing to let go, and with the official guards, had marched the pair of them down to the stocks.
The fluttering, chirping lights from earlier had disappeared, and Hank realized belatedly--as they pair of them were facing away--that the sun was starting to rise. It wasn’t until they heard boots on the flagstones over the music that still hadn’t stopped playing that he finally spoke up. “Jan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got jealous when you’ve been hurting. I want to do everything I can to make this up to you, starting with reminders of how amazing you are, no matter how much I love our son.”
Jan was silent so long, he was sure she was coming up with ways of turning him down. But eventually, as the guard turned the keys and let Jan out of her stocks, she replied, “thank you. I’d like that.” It vanquished the last of the anger Hank still held for her, and gave him the hope that maybe, when they went home, they could start to make this right.
When Hank was let out, he straightened, only to find that his neck had stiffened overnight and he couldn’t hold it straight. He crossed to his wife, and balled up the cuff of his jacket and wiped away the crusties that had formed on her cheeks, nose, and lips, before pulling her into an embrace, and kissing the crown of her head. “Do you want to go back to the party?”
The guard interrupted, “You are not to return to the reception. I am to escort the both of you back to Midgard.”
“That might be more my speed anyway.” Hank agreed. “Jan, we’ll get you an ice pack and a bath...and I need something for my neck after all that. Do you like the sound of that?”
“I do,” she replied, perfectly emotionlessly. She was exhausted. There was a bruise forming on her eye, but her cheeks were streaked with exhaustion. She leaned against him. Hank could feel her shiver, and realized for the first time she’d been underdressed all night. Hank wrapped first his jacket, then his arm around her before following the armored guard through the town and across the rainbow bridge.
Water Rising (Peggy & Jan & Natasha & Tony & Hank) 22 July 2016
“but then...well, one thing led to another, you know?” Angie was sobbing into her microphone now. “Nobody would have known if I was still a nobody.”
Peggy listened quietly, conscious both of Angie’s need to vent her pent up, hopeless feelings and of the company she kept in the little hotel room. “Angie...you can call the police about them, you know that, right?”
“I did, I did. Lynn’s being really good to me and asked the police to wait by the back door, but they can’t keep everyone away. I don’t know what’s worse, Peg, the haters or the furries.”
“Furries?” she asked.
Angie changed how she was sitting, and the camera moved about. “It’s this fad. Maybe it’s not, but they’re these cosplayers--they dress in animal costumes and I think are sexually attracted to animals. They’ve decided that I’m their...leader? Queen?”
Peggy had to hold back a snort of laughter and ducked off the screen for a moment while she gathered her senses. This clearly bothered Angie, but the idea was so ridiculous. “I’m sorry,” she said, still fighting a smile. “I’m sorry, but they what?”
Angie looked back at her so nonplussed that Peggy managed to fight the smile off her face. “They gather around the exit and shout abut how shout about how they want to pet my ears and beg me to shift. But we can’t keep them at bay like we can with the others, since they’ve only ever said things to me.”
“Ange...”
“I don’t know if it’ll go away if I sign or if it’ll only get worse.”
Peggy bit her lip, thinking for a moment before responding. “Angie, I’m sorry this is happening to you. I don’t think it’ll go away...but hold off on signing, okay? There’s still a lot at stake if you sign now, and there’s still time.” Peggy had seen this before. It would only get more difficult to leave the country as the deadline got closer and closer, but this wasn’t the time to capitulate yet.” Natasha got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Peggy seized the opportunity. “Do you trust me?”
Angie sniffled, then nodded.
Peggy dropped her voice low so that Natasha couldn’t overhear from the bathroom. “I’m working on a plan to get you out of the country, if nothing else.” Angie’s eyes widened. “It’s a last resort, but we can find you asylum in England if you like.”
“Peggy, I can’t leave New York. I have a job, and everyone knows I’m a werewolf.”
“Acting jobs don’t last forever. You can try again in West End. At least in England, you’ll be safe.”
“My whole family lives in New York. I can’t leave them.” Peggy grit her teeth and looked to the ceiling. How many times had she wanted to keep some idiot in her life safe? Of all of them, this seemed the most avoidable. There was no cause, no need, no greater endeavor--Angie was just being stubborn.
“Angie, it’s neither forever, no will they be barred from visiting you. Please,” the toilet flushed and Natasha came out of the bathroom. “Just consider it.”
“Peggy,” Peggy was glad she wore ear buds. “I can’t do that. Thank you, but I can’t do that. My life is here.”
Peggy folded her hands under her chin and smiled, like their conversation had turned sweet and innocent. “I know you do, and I find it quite fetching.” She winked, trying to signal that the discussion was over and left at a draw.
“Fine. I’ll consider it. But that’s not a yes.”
“Hmm,” Peggy winked. “I had a feeling you’d come around.” Natasha was setting up her own laptop. “Alright, darling. I think I ought to let you go, because my partner needs to use the internet. Promise you’ll be careful around the furries?”
“I don’t think they’re dangerous...Peggy, I wish you were here. It would all be better if you were here. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But I have a feeling I won’t be much longer.” She kissed the air towards her camera and waved her goodbye.
“Call later?”
“Of course. Whenever I can.”
“You don’t call enough.”
“I know. But I love you.”
“I love you, too, English.” The skype call blinked out and Peggy leaned back against the chair. “It’s all yours.”
The Safest Road to Hell | Natasha, Tony, Jan, & Hank McCoy | 20 June 2016
“Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one--the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts...”
- C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters
Monday morning. 0730 hours, GMT-5. Or, 7:30 a.m., Eastern Standard Time, if you preferred. Though the sun had barely been up for a full hour, the day was already muggy, and it was obvious the weather would soon be oppressively hot. Natasha's window-mounted air conditioner in her apartment wasn't working. She was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and running shorts, and she'd cracked the window in her kitchen and turned on a portable fan, but it didn't help.
And it wasn't just the weather that was oppressive today. She'd read the proposed Super-Human Registration Act--they all had. Multiple times. Right now the bill was in its embryonic stages. It could still be edited in committee and, later, amended during debates in the House of Representatives and the Senate. But the gist of it would remain the same, Natasha was sure, and that was this: register yourself as a "super-human" and help hunt down those who hadn't registered, or become a fugitive and be barred from working on any superhero team. Choose between a rock or a hard place. A frying pan or a fire.
If pressured, Natasha knew what her own choice would be. From long experience as a clandestine operator, and as a fugitive from various governments and international organizations, she knew that it was better to adapt to the situation, to become an insider able to change the course of events, than to remain a principled outsider with no credibility, unable to influence the outcome of events except through outright conflict. She'd thought that most of her friends and former teammates would agree with her on that. But her conversation with Steve on Wednesday had shaken that certitude. If he, of all people, couldn't see that the smartest course of action was to lay low and work from the inside, then how many others would follow him?
Plenty. Steve was popular, influential, and persuasive, and if he spoke openly about his resistance to the SRA, it would be a public relations disaster.
As she imagined that scenario, Natasha felt the tension she'd been carrying in her neck and shoulders increase, until it felt almost like a noose around her neck: her instincts, honed over long, long years of survival, saying get out. Leave while you can. But she wasn't a free operative anymore, as much as certain people, friends and enemies alike, would disagree. She had a team, she had responsibilities, she had a life. And she couldn't simply turn her back and flee.
0745 hours. Natasha poured herself a second cup of coffee even though her apartment was way too warm for drinking hot beverages. She put the mug on her kitchen table next to her open laptop, which she booted up. Then she gathered up the printed copy of the registration bill, annotated with red pen in her neat Cyrillic cursive (unreadable to most), along with a few of her own pages of notes, and information on the two committees in which the bill had been introduced: the Senate's Committee on Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs, and its analogue in the House of Representatives. She also had background information on each of the writers of the bill, as well as the SRA's most fervent supporters within and outside of the government. It never hurt to be prepared. The difference between losing and winning a battle was often in the amount of information you could gather for your side. That was doubly true in these kinds of bloodless battles, where reputation and a quick response mattered more than anything else.
0750 hours. There was always another email to read, another tweet to save to the database she was building. A text from Clint Barton asking whether they would have their usual pizza night this week--she tabled that, to respond to later.
0755 hours. Natasha got up and got herself a protein bar. She was hardly hungry, between the stress and the heat, but she knew that she needed to keep up her strength. She'd have to be in top form over the next months, whether her body liked that or not. As she opened the wrapper, careful not to get crumbs onto her laptop, she signed into the special videoconference app--Stark software, triply encrypted on his end and encrypted once more through Natasha's own security systems on her laptop. Hank was already online. The other members of the chat logged in one by one, and even though it was a minute early (well, twenty seconds early), once Tony came online, Natasha bit the bullet and started the call.
0800 hours. "Good morning, everybody," she said as they all answered the call within a few seconds: Tony Stark, Janet van Dyne, Hank McCoy. Her allies, now and in the future, as they tried to do what would be best for everyone, to mitigate the damage to their teams, reputations, and independence. “It’s good to see you, and I’m glad we can all be here.” Those weren’t meaningless pleasantries; it was good to see the four of them putting up a united front--or at least, trying to. “I assume no one needs a recap of this situation.”
It’s been a while since we last talked, but I’ve been following your recent press appearances closely. As one does. You know how it is.
You’re handling things amazingly as usual, but I think this is going to get bigger than just you and Hank McCoy, and I don’t say that lightly. I don’t like the kind of things that people are talking about, and I don’t like the way that this situation is going, but know that I’m behind you 100%.
You know where to find me if you need me.
NR
P.S. And tell Wanda that I say hi. :) I know that there are always two sides to a story, and I know what the media can be like. She’s been remarkably strong through all of this and I’m proud.
...and therefore due to the fluctuation in the colony population over the last five years, it can be concluded that the further effects of uncontrolled carbon and chemical emissions from production plants in northern New Jersey have had not only a detrimental effect on the insect population, but may soon have deeper effects on the people who live here, as well. While they exist with their own right to exist, we may also use them as an indicator for the overall health in the ecosystem, from which we are not an exempt part. The decrease in numbers in these vulnerable populations indicate that the health of the environment as a whole have decreased. In order for our own health and well-being, new regulations must be put in place--
“Hank, have you seen what they’re making us sign?” The door opened heavily as Jan barged into Hank’s office, holding the mammoth full text of the Superhero Registration Act.
“You’re still reading that?”
“It’s a lot of legal jargon, but that’s what my lawyer’s for. Yes, I’m reading so I know what I’m signing.” She held it so that the covers flapped to the sides. “Did you read the summary she sent you?”
It was sitting in his email, unread. He wasn’t sure he actually would get around to it. “Not yet,” Hank replied, and set down his pen and glasses. There would be no way he was getting back to his petition before Jan had finished expressing her dissatisfaction with the state of things. “But isn’t it just asking you to stay within some fundamental parameters set by the US government?” And hadn’t she already agreed to do it?
“Basically, but there are all these new rules like now we can’t have more than eight members on the official roster at any one time.” She fell into one of the armchairs across from Hank’s desk. “When they put it like that, I feel they’re saying we need to be stoppable and finite, which means we’re seen as a threat.”
“Jan,” Hank interjected, “it’s the US government. If they saw you as a threat, they’d shut you down.”
“I wonder if it’s my fault, if there’s anything I could have done. Maybe encouraged everyone to leave their pagers on in case of emergency, then Fandral wouldn’t have had to step in.” Hank thought it sounded more like she was blaming Fandral, but knew better than to point that out when Jan was in a mood.
“It’s not your fault, Jan. But I don’t envy the decisions you’re all faced with.”
He’d meant it to be empathetic, but Jan narrowed her eyes. “You, you’re all...Hank, you’re not signing it, are you?”
He paused, and looked down at the letter he’d been working on. When he looked back up, Jan looked sad. “No, I’m not. It doesn’t apply to me, Jan. It’s just for super heroes, and I really have no interest in being an Avenger.”
Silence hung between them. For a moment, Jan looked ready to snap, throw something, or storm out, but she calmed down and rubbed her eyes. She looked tired, not just from Henry but from the long hours she was putting into this. “You know I disagree, but I suppose it’s a fight I’ll never win. I’ll leave you to...ants.”
She stood and got up to leave, and was almost at the door by the time Hank called back to her, “Jan?” She turned, hand on the door knob. “Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I think less of you for doing this. I think you’re a fantastic chairman, and I doubt this situation could be handled better than what you’ve been doing. You should be proud of this, and I’m sure the whole super community is indebted to you for the stand you’ve taken.”
Still tired, Jan looked slightly less dejected at that. “Thanks, Hank. Really, thank you, that means a lot to me.” She left and closed the door behind her softly, leaving Hank to himself.
“...in order to protect ourselves, especially the vulnerable youths in this community. Young children don’t know the best ways to keep themselves safe from toxins in the soil, water, and air, and it’s our responsibility not simply to keep them from such pollution but to ensure they have an environment free from toxins. In conclusion, it is in our best interest to reconsider the regulation standards for the local heavy industry.”
Plot Summary: Hank and Jan get into a fight over how much time they spend parenting Henry Jr. and how much time they spend on their jobs/ hobbies.
Hank was home late. It wasn’t the first time since Henry Jr was born that he’d needed to take some deliberte time and space away from home to focus on grading midterms and typing up his most recent research. Having Henry was a blessing in so many ways, but every moment at home was focused on the little guy.
It was almost eleven by the time Hank opened the nursery door, and peeked inside to see if his son was awake. He could hear the sound of Henry babbling to himself. Tired as he was, Hank scooped his son out of his crib and walked with him around the room. “What’s on your mind, little guy?” He seemed to be thinking and feeling something. Hank couldn’t wait for the day when they could talk together about whatever that was that was going on in his little head.
“Some day,” he mused, “you’ll be old enough to understand what Daddy does for a living. It’s pretty neat; I think you’d like it.” He kissed Henry’s fuzzy little head. “I’ll show you the best things our world has to offer, and the stuff from the insect world, too. Now, that’s something you can never get tired of.” Henry gurgled up at him, sleepily. Hank smiled down at him. “You’re so small,” he marveled. Henry had put on a lot of weight, but he still felt tiny; still at the size where he would fit in Hank’s arm, his little head in his daddy’s hand. The little boy yawned a little yawn. “It’s beautiful down there. Things work differently. You have to relearn how you think about everything.”
The infant’s eyes were now closed and hank placed his son in the crib, and quietly closed the door so as not to wake him. Down the hall, he saw Jan’s light under the door. Usually, she would still be awake and working or sketching in her notebook.
When he opened the door, he saw that she instead was laying on her back, in silence, staring at the ceiling. She looked tired. Her clothes from the evening were still on, her shoes kicked to the floor next to her. “Hey,” he greeted. She looked at him under her heavy eyelined eyes.
“Hey.”
“I just put Henry to bed. Here’s for hoping he stays asleep a little longer tonight.” He toed off his shoes and slumped off his jacket.
“Mkay.”
“How was your day?”
“Terrible.”
“Jan, what happened?”
“Spider-man. Tonight was my fashion show, and while he was chasing criminals, he managed to send one driving straight into our building.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Hank asked.
“Pff,” Jan replied.
“Jan?”
“No, everyone was fine, but it ruined the day. I really wanted something to go well. Nothing has been lately.”
As she spoke, Hank unbuttoned his shirt and shed his pants, leaving them on the chair next to his side of the bed. “I’m sorry, Jan. I know how much tonight meant to you.”
“I really needed this.” She sighed and rolled her head to look at Hank. “Can I ask you something? Seriously, am I a terrible mother?”
Hank didn’t answer right away. She sometimes asked similar questions to fish for compliments but this seemed more serious. He rested a hand ono her shoulder. “No. Of course you aren’t. Why are you even asking that?”
“I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. I love him, I really do. ut it’s hard to show it. I wouldn’t want any harm to come to him, but when he’s around me I can’t show it. I’ve seen the way you look at him and I just can’t do that.” She was almost in tears by the time she finished.
“Jan,” he protested.
“I do love him.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” He moved his hand to stroke her longish hair. She was growing it out, he noticed. “I know you do.”
“He doesn’t seem to like me at all. He always cries when I’m around and I’m sure he thinks Lacey’s his mom.”
“Well,” Hank said, trying to keep the irreverence out of his voice. “Maybe if you spent some more time with him, he wouldn’t think that.” It was no secret that Jan had carried on as if Henry weren’t in the house most days. If he were going to fault her anything, it was that she spread herself thinly where it mattered.
“I do!”
“I mean quality time, Jan. You’re so busy being Chairman and CEO that you forget you have a family, too.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
“Me?” Hank asked in defense.
“Yes, you. Mr. Stays-out-until-eleven.”
“Doctor,” he corrected her.
“Ahh! You’re terrible, you know that?”
“You want to know what kept me so late today?” he asked, annoyance now coloring his words.
“Enlighten me.” Jan sat up and pulled away, ever inch of her seeming to bristle at the accusation.
“Grading midterms. Do you know how boring that is? I would rather have been here; it’s not as if I’m using work as some kind of excuse not to raise our kid.”
“So what? My work is an excuse because I don’t hate my job? You think I should spend less time negotiating multi-million dollar contracts or stop caring about keeping the peace?”
“Jan, we have a son now,” he reminded her.
Jan’s lip trembled, and Hank suddenly realized what the black streaks on her cheeks were. She curled around her pillow. “Are we in over our heads on this one?” Hank moved a little further across the bed and took her hand.
“Maybe. Maybe we are.”
“Why did we ever think we could do this?”
“I think it had something to do with almost dying of an archaic bacterial illness.”
“And I wanted to go to Belize.” She didn’t take back her hand, but she didn’t hold his, either. “It’s been harder than I ever imagined, finding the time to be with him. I can’t put anything on hold; you know that. I can’t scale back or VDI could go under and right now I don’t trust anyone else in the Avengers to take this as seriously as I do? Strange? He has a realm to protect? Scott?” She scoffed. “Seriously? We need consistent leadership and I love nothing else more.”
Jan fell silent. Surely, she hadn’t meant what she’d said. But she didn’t correct herself. “More than Henry?” She looked down at the duvet. “More than our family?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I didn’t have to. You just said you love being Chairman of the Avengers more than you love anything.”
“So what? So I love it, what’s wrong with that? Everyone has a pastime. Mine happens to be putting away criminals. Don’t forget that you were just like me once, or have you forgotten how all of this started?”
Hank frowned at the idea. “At least I’ve changed since then. Can’t you leave this to anyone else? The Avengers were fine before you and they’ll be fine after you.”
“I’m not handing off my title,” she spat.
“Fine. Maybe you are a horrible mother. Maybe your priorities are all backward and there’s a reason he cries.”
The instant the words were out, Hank wished he could have taken it all back. Jan’s darkly lined eyes narrowed until he could barely see the brown that lay beneath her mascara. “Go.” It was all she needed to say. Hank stood, picked up his robe, and left Jan to herself for the night.
He shouldn’t have been so hard on her, but how long would it be until she stepped up as Henry’s mother? She could only play this game for so long. At least Hank was trying.
“It’s hard to overstate how relieved I was to hear you’d be joining me with this.” Jan closed her eyes and let her makeup artist apply the blush to her cheeks. There was just something about the way cameras read her face that made it look rounder than she wished they did. She opened her eyes to glance sideways at the Beast. In addition to his prior connections to Washington, he’d worked extensively within the superhero community and knew about their issues. Their concerns were his concerns, too.
“Wanda’s taken this pretty hard, and the whole team feels for her. Congress, I suppose you could say, has also taken this hard, but I presume you know about that already.” She paused for a moment to allow the artist to draw the lipstick onto Jan’s lips. When she pulled back, Jan pursed an rubbed the color in.
This felt like a last-ditch effort. People, for the most part, had either made up their minds on the matter. Those who enjoyed the protection and support they gained from the super heroes of New York and across the world would be there to support them. The rest, well, perhaps their image of Wanda could still be softened. “She doesn’t have a bad bone in her body; she really doesn’t. She’s just more powerful than the rest of us combined and sometimes that makes people on-edge. I don’t have to explain to you,” she rehearsed her thoughts out loud before she had to make a full address on camera, “that she’ll have to deal with her powers whether or not she’s using them for good. In the meantime, she really does more good than harm on this team, even if she doesn’t always see it.”
“Pym, McCoy, it’s almost time. Are you ready?” Jan waved to show she’d heard and stood, straightening her wrap dress so it lay a little less scandalously across her chest before following to the front of the New Avengers’ Facility. Inside somewhere were her husband and her team. The impression she made today with Hank McCoy might just set the tone of their future as such.
