It was always suprising how quickly love turned to hate. It had taken her longer to realize it, but the truth was, looking back on their relationship, she hated him.
What was it he had said? "It's disgusting! My wife laying eggs and nesting every six weeks, and eating bugs! Bugs, Jan! Tasty beetles and caterpillars! If they only knew you were a mutie..."
Mutie.
That had been the last straw. It seemed as if all her life she had been struggling to come to terms with that fact, and what exactly that meant. Fury probably knew. But then again, Fury knew everything. But Hank...he had been holding that particular Sword of Damocles over her head for years. And then for him to call her that the way he did, it was like a switch had been turned. Something in her had been burned out and replaced by an overwhelming disgust for the man.
"I want a divorce."
Hank had absorbed half a bottle of Jack Daniels, so he wasn't all there. She said it again.
"I mean it. Enough of your shit, Hank. Go ahead. Tell everyone. Tell the world. I don't care anymore. I just want you out of my life."
The look on his face was priceless. It reminded her of the sculptor, surprised the knife in his hand had turned on him. She went to start packing, and paid him no mind.
She should have, as he hit her with a wide blow across the face and said she wasn't going anywhere. Hitting him in the face with that glass jug gave him other ideas. The loft was a big place, big enough for him to enlarge a little. In a second, he had grown three feet and was significantly stronger. He tried pinning her to the floor when she shrank down and flew out of his grasp.
That was when he got the helmet. And the bug spray. Two blasts of industrial-strength Raid, and she couldn't breathe. Hiding underneath the refridgerator wasn't any good either, as Hank sicced the ants on her. That goddamn helmet. It made him the Pied Piper of insects. Those little bastards got a couple of bites in before she flew back out from under the fridge and hit Hank with a bio-electric sting, right in the balls. To hell with fair play and you don't hit a man in the balls.
She was able to get out of the loft, without a thing to her name. Naked, too. Maybe she'd come back in a couple of days, get her stuff and clear out. But where to now?
Wanda? She and Pietro lived at the Triskelon, and she didn't want to show up like this. Getting a beatdown from your soon to be ex-husband, even if this was the last one, was not something you wanted advertised. Betty? They had been tight ever since college. Like sisters, really. But she always go the nagging feeling that somehow, Betty always saw her relationship with Hank and the various physical altercations that periodically came out of it as a way to feel superior. Hank was always bad news, and you never listened. Told you so.
Who wanted to hear that?
Hmm. There was one ticket she could call on. He had said is there was anything he could ever do for her...
Well, got to get moving. Queens was a long way from here.
Peter had to do a double take. It was Friday afternoon, and school was out for Spring Break. He needed some down time before he went out later. Coming down the side steps of his house to the basement entrance, he stopped for a moment.
Tapping on the window, trying to keep warm from the rain, was a naked woman.
"Can I help you, Miss?" Peter quickly turned around as the woman turned to face him.
"Peter!"
That was odd. What naked woman would know him by name? He turned around a second, looked at the face. Hey, it was familiar.
"Dr. Van Dyne. Out of my dreams and onto my doorstep." Peter said, trying to lighten the mood. She looked like she had been through some tough times. Some kind of bites on her legs.
"I need a favor."
His response was automatic. "Name it."
"I'm going through a...nasty divorce, and I need a place to crash for a little while. Couple days, max."
"Of course. Stay for as long as you need. My aunt went to Atlantic City for the weekend, and Gwen won't be back for hours."
Peter handed her his coat and unlocked the basement door, getting them out of the rain.
There was a towel hanging from the fresh laundry rack that Peter grabbed and tossed to Jan. She dried herself off and tied it around her waist, zipping up Peter's jacket about halfway.
"I'm gonna go upstairs. I think there's a couple of my aunt's clothes that'll fit you." Peter made for the stairs.
"No old people clothes, okay?" Jan grinned.
"My Aunt May has no old people clothes. I'll be right back." Sounds of feet hitting stairs two, three at a time.
Jan looked around. Big basement. Laundry machines along the far end, with detergents and bleach and the rest. A couple laundry racks with clean clothes drying. A couple taped up boxes along the wall. But under the window, by the water heater, quite an impressive little lab had been set up. A little computer workstation under the window, and three large blackboards by the wall. On a table, a small chemistry lab sat, well used and taken care of. It reminded her of some of the stuff she had when she was younger, before she went off to college.
Happier times. But that was years ago.
Jan walked over and looked at the blackboards. they were all blank, but turning them ove to the other side was quite something.
The kid really was brilliant. On all three blackboards were formulas for different types of chemical adhesive, that if she read this right, reacted almost instantly with air.
"The numbers behind Spider-Man." a voice said behind her. Peter was standing on the bottom step, clothes in hand. He handed a pair of jeans, an undershirt, a sweatshirt, and several pairs of clean underwear to her. Jan held a bra in her hand. "Why so many?" she asked playfully.
"Ladies undergarments are not my department."
"But ravng psychopaths are?"
"To each his own, alright?" Peter said, getting a little red in the face. The Wasp had a sense of humor. That was good. If he was going to be shanghaied onto the team in a few years, at least there was someone in the Ultimates who was funny.
Jan turned back to the blackboards. "You're sharper than I thought. All this is very high level stuff. You get all this?"
Peter shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? I pay attention. My father did a lot of the work for me. I just finished up his formulas and expanded on them."
"I'll say. This coefficient increases the elasticicity of this formula by at least thirty percent."
"It's more like forty-five percent. That's as far as I'll take it. Any more, and there's no more resistance on the webline, and it gets too stretchy and doesn't work."
"Mind if I take a crack at it? I could use a distraction."
"Go for it. Fresh pair of eyes, you know?"
"Yeah. Now first looking at this, I think if we adjust this ratio here..."
Please review! I tried to go deeper into the psyches of the main characters. I am going to make these chapters short, but sweet, so there's a lot of them. But please, give your opinions!