Manhattan.
Avengers Mansion.
Its empty now. It has been for the past fourteen months.
Fourteen months. Has it really been that long? It certainly seemed like it. Fourteen months.
Little over a year since he had been sitting here before—as he sat now—waiting for anyone to come out. Waiting for her to come out and ask him if he was alright. Then he would answer no, or maybe yes, and she would make it okay again.
He missed that about her.
The Scarlet Witch. Wanda Maximoff.
And as he sat there in the cold, Billy Kaplan still wondered where she'd gone. And recriminated himself for thinking such a stupid thought. I know she's gone, he thought. I just don't know where.
Where would a psychologically broken down superhero go after destroying her team and reordering reality?
"Iwanttoknowwhereshewent."
He said it fast and precise and surprised himself because of it. Billy touched his chin and smiled thinly at the fact that he had managed to stave off the onslaught of pubescent stubble, and said it again."Iwanttoknowwhereshewent. Iwanttoknowwhereshewent."
"Excuse me."
Billy had been sitting in a weak fetal position, legs gathered up closely on a stone bench across the street from the Mansion, trying to shield himself from the cold breeze. When he heard the voice, a calm and thunderous and authoritative one, he went stiff, legs properly in front of him, back properly rigid. Eyes wide. He looked up to his right shoulder…
Where she had been standing the first time, Billy, you remember?
…And saw him.
A hovering man in a yellow suit, glowing almost against the coming twilight. His blue cape fluttered in the wind behind him, and where Billy was close into himself shuddering against the dropping temperatures of a Manhattan winter, the golden man wasn't.
He looked…warm.
"You're…" Billy stumbled over the words. "You're the Sentry."
"Yes," he replied and lowered to the ground. To stand like people do. "Mind if I join you?"
Billy's eyebrows flashed apathy, and he slid down on the bench to open a spot for the Sentry.
His eyes were locked dead ahead, staring at the locked gates of Avengers Mansion and the ruin behind them. Billy thought for a moment he almost saw a tear in those narrow and golden eyes.
"You usually patrol the run-down relic part of town?"
"No," Sentry said. "I was on my nightly rounds and I couldn't help but overhear you."
"Over…hear?"
"Yes." Then he turned slowly and looked at Billy. "Wiccan, is it?"
"Sure," Billy said awkwardly. "I think we ran into each other before. You helped El—Patriot—during the Kree-Skrull thing a while back. Before that Registration crap came up."
"Ah yes," Sentry replied, as his brow furrowed and he touched his chin. He stood abruptly and extended one hand to Billy, and Billy accepted the handshake on instinct. "My name is Robert Reynolds."
"I know, sir. Billy Kaplan."
"Billy, then," Sentry said with a smile. His eyes twinkled and his eyebrows slid up as he smiled. "As I said, I overheard you. My powers…allow me to hear a butterfly in Singapore, if you'll pardon the hyperbole."
Hyperbole. God. Good looks, Billy admitted and thought of his predilection for blondes, and good word choice It was sweet, Billy thought, and even a little wrong. How old is this Sentry fellow? How old do you have to look for superpowers to kick in and make you forever 30? Hmm. Nick Fury's stuck at 50 or so, and if this Sentry's as powerful as they say he is, then he's at least—
"What's wrong?"
The question shocked Billy back to reality. "Nothing," he said. "Just a lot on my mind."
Sentry relaxed his posture a bit and motioned toward the mansion. "Has to do with that, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Billy said sheepishly. He didn't want to admit anything, and if Sentry wasn't going to probe, then—
"Yes, I suppose so. It was…something, wasn't it? That day?"
"I wouldn't know." Billy rubbed his arm to warm up and looked away. And felt a little guilty. If she'd been here, and if I'd been here…maybe none of this would've happened. Or then…I wouldn't be a Young Avenger. Billy's eyebrows turned down as he frowned. "It was…before my time."
"And mine," Sentry said, and Billy swore he detected a hint of fondness in the man's voice. When Billy looked back, Sentry was looking at him. "I wish I could've been there. Maybe I could have stopped her."
"Maybe," Billy said on instinct. And then he looked at Sentry, and thought about the unbidden irony of he and the Sentry entertaining the same thoughts.
We're talking the freaking Sentry here. A guy who regularly lifts up oil rigs like they're a wet tissue. A guy who can fly to the moon and back in the time it takes you to blink. A guy who was in prison because of a serious mindblow and only ended up free when a bunch of supervillains started running crazy.The Sentry. Watch it, Billy.
Sentry laid a hand on Billy's shoulder. Billy let it rest there, and took in the warmth. Way this night's going, I'll freeze before I do anything else. "Go for a fly with me?"
Billy looked at him. Don't do anything stupid. He might throw you into the sun for offending him. The Sentry—Robert—was already a foot in the air.
"What if there's an emergency?" Billy asked and immediately felt foolish for it.
"I've factored that," The Sentry said, and extended his hand to Billy again.
Stark Tower.
The Sentry's Watchtower.
"So it just…reappeared over the Tower?"
"Yes."
Billy ran one hand through his hair. "Huh."
"What is it?" The Sentry hovered an inch above the ground on one of Stark Tower's three rooftop helipads. They'd been standing there for the past thirty minutes, and for thirty minutes Billy Kaplan, dressed in his Wiccan suit, had been avoiding Sentry's questions. Billy's eyes were locked on the magnificent black monolith of the Sentry's own Watchtower, fixed definitely atop Stark Tower.
"Nothing," Billy said at last. He looked out at the cityscape once, and turned back. "Ask you a question?"
"Alright."
"Why help me, Sentry?"
"Because I decided I need to get out more," he replied and steepled his fingers, thinking through his answer—or so it looked like. "I've been part of the two Avengers teams for long enough, and I've spent most of that time doing my own thing—pursuing my own goals and missions, when I should be working on a larger scale. This seemed a good starting point."
Billy's eyes narrowed. "Reaching out to your friendly neighborhood Young Avenger?"
Sentry turned away. "Well, yes."
"Great," Billy said. "Thanks, Robert."
"Billy, wait."
Turned away from Sentry, Billy rolled his eyes. He should've just left then and there. But Billy Kaplan, crazy superhero mother or regular, tolerant Upper West Side mother….Billy, you were just raised too well to turn your back on someone older than you. It's bad form, you know.
Which is exactly what Robert Reynolds is. Just someone older. An authority figure. But if he took the time out of what could only be a busy day—busy life—then maybe you owed him something, Billy.
"Billy, can I ask you something?"
Billy looked at him, sighed, and lowered to the deck. "Why not," he said and scratched his head tiredly.
"Sometimes you talk to yourself, right? In the heat of battle, I mean, when things are at full throttle and if you weren't laughing you'd be crying at all the bad things happening."
"Sure, who doesn't?" How forward of you, Sentry.
"I don't," Sentry said plainly enough. "At least, I don't think it's me."
Billy raised an eyebrow. What's he talking about?
"I'll be upfront with you. Sometimes I hear those voices in my head, and I don't know whose they are. They're not mine—not all the time at least."
"So whose are they?" Billy asked delicately and instantly knew himself to be on thin ice. One slip and you could offend him beyond all repair and that'd be that. So much for the sage counsel of a superhero who, for once, doesn't want to shut you down.You could zap him in enough time and wash your hands of this weirdness. Or he could throw you into the Sun. At least its warmer there.
"A supervillain." Sentry's voice is as calm as it was before. But there was frailness to it, Billy noted. Fear.
Idon'twantSentrytobeafraid
"My supervillain," Sentry added. "His name is the Void."
"Doesn't ring any bells," Billy said.
The Sentry looked away, slightly defeated. "No. No, it wouldn't."
Billy frowned again. "Why did you bring me here?"
"Because I thought…we could maybe help each other."
"The old mentoring angle," Billy felt slightly used at the idea.
"Yes," Sentry said. "I know I'm not Tony and I'm certainly no Captain America. But I thought…we have our fair share of problems. Maybe we could work through them."
Billy thought about it, and started pacing. Okay, he thought. Maybe's there's something to that. Maybe you need help, Sentry, if you're hearing your archenemy's voice in your head. If you're having as much self-doubt as you're showing here and now. If you're so interested in helping me be a better hero—if that's what I'm getting from all this mystery and bravado.Okay.
"Okay," Billy reiterated. "You're one of the few Avengers who hasn't tried to shut me down yet, so thank you for that."
"Because I know what you're trying to do, and while it doesn't matter much if your team has the public backing of the Sentry, I hope you'd at least feel comfortable knowing it's a private support."
"But I don't know if this works well. For you. I mean I know I'm registered now and whatever, and I'm not even freaked out by the prospect. But. Here's the thing. What would your employer say?"
"Tony?" Sentry seemed thrown by the name-check. He looked away, pondering his own words. "Tony...Tony and I have an understanding or two."
"Like what?"
"Like his new Avengers team. Like the Initiative. Like putting your talents to good use."
"Like 42," Billy said. His voice was flat. Unimpressed by the Sentry's flattery. At a dumbfounded look, Billy explained. "You wouldn't know much about it, Robert, you only saw it for a short time when my boyfriend busted the inmates—including me."
The Sentry looked away, staring pensively at the night sky. One of his eyebrows slid up and for a moment Billy entertained the thought that Robert maybe did know something. Something he was keeping close.
"Your boss—Iron Man—locked my ass in there," Billy said. "And then proceeded to deal some not so vague threats, Sentry." Billy found himself pointing an accusatory finger at the Sentry. "So don't tell me he's a nice man, or a visionary, or any more of that futurist bullshit. Because I've seen him, and spoken to him, and I'll tell you right now, Robert. Tony Stark isn't looking out for anyone but Tony Stark. So maybe you should factor that. And anyway, I don't think superhuman patronage is gonna help my situation any more than it already has."
"How do you mean?"
Billy looked at Sentry hard, and said, "Being a Young Avenger is great. Euphoria of helping people which you're probably definitely familiar with. But its an old-school pain in the ass. Nature of the world, Robert. I try to help people and when some armored alcoholic can't stomach it, he throws me in prison. Do you know what that feels like?"
"Yes," Sentry said sternly and folded his arms over his chest. His eyes glowed yellow for a moment. "I know pain. And separation."
"And," Billy refrained as he put it all together. "You think I have those same things. That's why you asked me here."
Sentry nodded once. "We're heroes part-time—the other part spent being actual people with lives and loved ones and responsibilities. And I'm not offering you therapy or anything. God knows I have enough of that myself. But maybe, I thought, we…"
"Could help each other out."
Sentry nodded again. "I know you probably don't—or can't—trust me, Billy. Being part of Tony's new Avengers doesn't help my case, I know."
Billy thought about it.
"But," Sentry continued. "It's your call."
Billy raised an eyebrow and turned, looking as serious as he could. "And I'm to assume you know everything about me, then."
"I read the Pulse exclusive, if that's what you mean. Look, I'm sorry for the presumption, and I'm sorry if you think I'm taking pity on your or something. In thirty minutes I have to go on rounds again. You can stay out here as long as you like, I don't think Tony will mind, now that you're registered. So if you want to talk about anything, I'm here. And even if you don't, I'm here."
Billy's mind flashed backward in time three hours ago, when he'd stormed out of the Kaplan brownstone in…well, a huff wasn't a word to do the situation justice. He'd been angry, certainly. And hurt. Hurt that they…didn't do what he thought they would. Or should.
Meh. What the hell.
"Well," he said quietly. "There is one thing."
Earlier.
The Upper West Side.
"I just don't get it, Billy. What's got you so worked up lately?"
"It's you okay?" He'd been avoiding the question for forever, and Rebecca's latest prod broke the camel's back. All night long it had been Teddy this and Gay that and Why Won't You Just Open Up?
"Because you're my parents," he'd said. "That's why. And maybe I have trouble adjusting to the fact that you're okay with this—probably more than I am. Yeah, I'll go as far as to say that! Okay? You're my parents, and I'm not feeling it lately."
Billy's dad, until this point had been content to sit there and half-listen while he hammered away on the Times Sudoku. But the accusation of Billy's problem being his fault—his and Rebcca's—set a fire under Jeff Kaplan and simultaneously depressed him.
"Is…is that what you think?" Jeff Kaplan offered weakly. "That we don't love you?"
"No!" Billy exclaimed. "I know you love me, and you know I love you. But this thing…its just too much, okay? A little too much a little too soon. You took the Avenger news as good as anyone I've seen take any news—"
"It's what we do, Billy," Rebecca interjected.
"—And now you're taking the news that your son—your oldest son whom you love very much, and have told him this repeatedly—is gay. You're taking this news in stride. You're treating it like a nice dinner conversation. Like you expected it to just pop up someday!"
"Honey, we knew for a while. We didn't bring it up because we didn't want to pressure you."
"Pressure? Jesus, whose interests were you looking out for? If you knew, like you say you did, then you should have brought it up!"
Billy sat finally, and felt hot under the football jersey. He sat on the floor in a poor Indian-style, and ran his hands through his hair on each temple.
"It's not supposed to be this way," he murmured. "You knew it, guys. You knew how I felt and who I was seeing, and you just sat on it." Billy's vision clouded, and he wiped the tears away a moment later. "You should have just said something and spared my feelings."
"Billy," Jeff said thickly. "That's not what we wanted to do. We wanted to respect your rights. Its something I try to carry home from the hospital, you know. Confidentiality. I guess respecting your privacy was a failure."
"A failure?!" Billy looked up as the tears kept coming. "You didn't even try! You saw Teddy coming over here daily and you knew and you said nothing. You said nothing while he and I snuck around like convicts on the run, too afraid to do or say anything that might give us away! You don't know what that's like. You don't—and please don't tell me you do!"
Rebecca Kaplan slid out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. Billy got up and sat in a proper chair and supported his chin on his palms.
"You weren't supposed to be okay with it, guys. This is supposed to be a turning point, a life-change. You're not supposed to welcome Teddy into the family and ask him how he wants his eggs. This is supposed to be tough, and the fact that it isn't—that you're both taking it so well—tells me that you probably don't care that I'm gay, and wouldn't care if I was straight. You wouldn't care either way. And that hurts."
Rebecca Kaplan thought about it. "What's wrong, Billy? There's something behind all this anger."
"I just," Billy said weakly and shut up for fear of losing it. "I feel left out, is all. Like I don't even matter."
Rebecca Kaplan sat back in her chair, defeated. "You know we love you, Billy. We thought we were protecting you, and Teddy too. If this is how you feel, then I'm sorry."
"Your mother explained it to me in no uncertain terms, Billy," Jeff Kaplan cut in. "She told me about you and then she told me about Teddy, and I was happy for you. I was happy because it meant my little boy was finally happy. It meant, or so I thought, that you'd found someone who made you happy. I was willing to let my stupid little protests go if it meant your happiness. If it meant you not coming home with bruises anymore. Does that make sense?"
"Yes." Billy had to admit it.
"Your mother and I know you're responsible. And we know you've had a hard time of it since you started high school. You're right to say we don't know what its like to be you, Billy, but damn it we've tried. We've tried for sixteen years to keep up with you and damn if you don't keep throwing us curveballs. You've surprised us—you've surprised me—every day since the day you were born, and I thank God for that, Bill, I really do."
Billy wiped the tears away, pulled a comma of hair out of his eyes, and looked at his father across the table.
"We love you, Bill," Jeff Kaplan said. "I hope you know that. Your mother and I would do anything to protect you. I guess we failed at this one."
Yeah, Billy thought and didn't say. That would have been cheap. Bad form.
"Billy?" Rebecca Kaplan asked. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Billy said and stood and sniffed. "I just…it's not supposed to be like this."
"Nothing's ever easy, Bill," Jeff Kaplan said.
Billy looked at his father. "All my life, everything I've ever done, I've consulted you on. Every last goddamn thing. You know I didn't ask for this—didn't ask for Teddy to come into my life. You know that. And for the life of me, I don't have a clue why you thought it was okay to tiptoe around us, guys. You could have saved us a lot of trouble and time and headaches." As Billy spoke, his voice became weaker. The tears were on their way back. "I mean…it took bad timing for me to actually own up and forcibly come out. That's horrible! Teddy came out to his mom the old fashioned way, you know. And I did it because I was backed into a corner. You can't know what that's like."
"Of course," Jeff Kaplan behind focused and caring eyes.
"Of course," Billy repeated thickly. Mockingly. "I even prefaced coming out by saying it'd be hard to deal with, and yet here we are. You're perfectly okay with the fact that your little boy likes boys. And your little boy isn't even okay with it. What does that mean, Mom? What the hell does that mean?!"
"It means you're different, Billy. No better, no worse."
"Different," he repeated in the same half-mock. And more abruptly: "Can I…I'm going out. I need some time alone." Billy stood and made for the front doors.
"Where are you going?" Jeff Kaplan asked, as defeated as before.
Billy didn't reply.
Stark Tower.
"And that's what brought you to the Mansion?"
"Yes," Billy said. "I…used to go there to see my m—The Scarlet Witch. She made me…alright."
"But she's not there anymore," Sentry said and told himself he was making a point. "Is she?"
"No," Billy said. He looked out at the cityscape. In the distance, a wisp of flame burst out from the roof of the Baxter Building. A jet-engine whine followed, heading towards Queens. "You…don't know where she is, do you, Robert?" Billy called him Robert and felt okay with it.
"No," Sentry replied. "And I doubt anyone would tell me."
"How do you figure?"
"I'm just the Sentry, Billy," he said. "Power of a million exploding suns doesn't match men who punched Hitler or rely on a suit of armor to stay alive."
Billy had to smile at that. The great Sentry comparing his life to Hank Pym, of all people.
"Ask you another question?" Billy asked and gave a prying look.
The Sentry hovered an inch above the ground, looking out at the cityscape, probably, Billy thought, looking at the Baxter Building's outline in the distance, too. "Sure," he said.
"The voices. Do they ever…stop?"
"Only when I sleep." Sentry looked the inch down and smiled. "That makes it alright. Story of my life, really."
Silence.
"This is it, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"The life of a superhero. The life I got myself into. We try to save the world and people hate us for it. And we find ourselves confronted by the one thing we can't beat. Ourselves."
Robert Reynolds smiled. "Yes, I suppose so. A wise man said the greatest battles are fought within."
"You believe that?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Sentry lifted into the air again. "I have to go on rounds. You're welcome to come along. " His golden eye winked at that last part.
And Billy Kaplan smiled. "Can you take me to the Daily Bugle?"
Stark Tower.
"You just left him there?"
"Yes," Robert Reynolds said and shot Tony Stark a focused look. His eyes burned and he privately wanted a test. Try me, and see how often I tell the truth, you little—
"Doesn't matter now, I suppose. He's registered like the rest of them."
"The other two are still in hiding. Following Cage's team," Robert mused. "I could find them now, you know."
"No," Tony said distantly. "We'll go after Cage as a team. And the Young Avengers project looks to be good PR, don't you find?"
Robert Reynolds looked at Tony. "Billy's already registered. What's it matter?" He paused. "Besides...we won. Isn't that enough?"
Tony reclined in his chair and ran on hand through his hair. At the back of his head, he groaned. That's what they all say, isn't it. That's the kind of thinking that got us into this mess.
The Daily Bugle.
Billy walked—he enjoyed the manual exercise—to the front of the building. And there he was, not even wearing his Hulkling suit.
Teddy.
He turned at just the right moment, and met Billy in a hug. A big one that lifted him off his feet and got him looking straight into Teddy's eyes.
"You okay?" Teddy asked.
"I am now," Billy said and smiled. "Just hug."
Then, he thought. Then we'll go home and sort this out. And things'll be alright for a change.
End