She and Steve had had another fight. Again. This one played out as all the others had. Steve got annoyed with something she did and brought it up to her in that way of his, that way that always sounded so damn pious. He'd go on and on as if he had every right to judge her and her every whim and she would always find herself defending herself only to realize that she shouldn't have bothered. He never got it. He never understood that the two of them were just different people. From completely different worlds.

And typical of their fights, he had gone off on one of his head-clearing walks, where he would make his way to see his old buddy Bucky or the cemetery. He'd sit for hours, hashing out his issues to people who were long dead or to Bucky, who should have been. God forbid he talk to anyone who could have understood her. No, he only talked to those who felt he was in the right and his little girlfriend Jan just needed to grow up. Well, in an effort to live up to his low standards of her mentality, she stuck her tongue out at a picture of him and then heaved out a sigh.

She realized now that she wasn't even sad. She couldn't honestly remember ever being sad after they fought. Instead she would feel frustrated, misunderstood and annoyed that their arguments were inevitable. She felt very much like a teenager trying to make her father – or grandfather – understand her. Without realizing it, she picked up her cell and began dialing an old familiar number. She knew he wouldn't ever change it because that would mean he had one more menial thing to remember, and he could never be bothered with that.

The phone rang causing the idea in the back of his brain to run and hide behind a very high wall of thinker's block and inside a very deep cavern of insecurity. He doubted he'd ever get it back, whatever it was. Sighing and cursing the small piece of technology, he reached for it and glanced at the number. The anger at his interruption faded as he saw the number. It was her. He already knew then that he would answer it; his fate, intertwined with hers, was already sealed. Because though time had come between them, among other things, nothing had changed. He still…

"Hello," he said, trying to sound neutral, casual.

"You're busy," she answered automatically. He was always busy.

He ignored that old familiar stab in his heart when her voice sounded so defeated and replied, "And you need someone to talk to."

He sounded almost cheery, and she hesitated only a moment before saying, "I don't want to interrupt anything."

"Work is work, Jan. It'll wait. What's up?"

He was conversing so normally, and it made her wonder if he was thinking more than he was saying. She hoped he was thinking: 'you're more important than my work, you always have been'. But, because she wouldn't allow herself more than the hopeful thought, she settled for accepting that no matter what he thought, he was trying. Her heart lifted and she smiled, he was trying for her. "I guess I just miss you."

He blew out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. She still thought of him. She may lie in the same bed with that noble, dickhead Captain Steve Rogers, but she dreamt of him. Yeah, fuck you, Captain. "I've missed you too, Jan." Those words came easy, because he missed her every single day. Then because, he couldn't help but pry into her life now, he said, "So, how are things with you and Cap?" he tried not to sound nasty.

He could hear the giggle in her voice. "Are you asking because you want to know if my love life is stale and I have to spend every night masturbating just to get to sleep?"

He laughed. "Sort of. Just don't get my hopes up unless it's true."

"I see, Hank. You want me to be miserable." She was still smiling, and she couldn't remember the last time she had smiled for so long without faking it.

"And why not? I'm miserable." He blurted it out without thinking and could have kicked himself for it.

Play time was over. "I'm sorry, Hank. Maybe I shouldn't have called."

"No, honey, please. Don't go. I'm sorry too. For more than just now."

She tried to keep her voice steady. "I know you are. I've always known you never meant any of it. I – I guess I called because of that. Because I want to…" she trailed off.

In his heart he could feel the words, I want to give us another go. But he wouldn't say them; she had to. He wouldn't hurt himself anymore than he had to. But she wasn't saying anything. "Janet, what? What do you want?"

"Can you meet me somewhere? For a drink?"

"I – uh – well," he didn't know why he was stalling. Both probably knew he'd jump at any opportunity to see her again. "Sure, of course. Your choice."

"The little café on 4th Street."

"With the red umbrellas?"

"Yeah. Let's say an hour okay?"

"Deal. See you there. And Jan?"

"Yeah?" She wanted to hear those words he couldn't say anymore. The words since their divorce he wasn't allowed to say.

He knew the rules well. "Thank you. For not hating me." He quickly hung up.

If he only knew. Oh Hank. Hate is about as far from reality as you could ever get.

Both were accustomed to each other's habits, so when Janet said 'an hour' she really meant close to an hour and a half. But Hank didn't mind. Sitting for the extra half hour waiting for her gave him enough time to pull himself together. He wasn't going to act like a long lost soul since she'd been gone. He wasn't going to pour his heart out. He was going to drift back to the way they used to be. Right before they made the commitment to spend forever together. Right before they realized they couldn't.

She came to the table and so like him, he stood and pulled out her chair for her. But she wasn't interested in sitting yet. She twirled in a circle for him and asked, "Notice anything?"

She was so charming, so bubbly, that he wondered if she thought it was best to go back to the beginning too. They had always had similar thoughts and ideas. With a little smile, he tapped his forehead and said, "Naturally Jan, I'm a man of science. It's obvious that you cut your hair."

He waited as that confused pout came to her face before he lit up with a big grin. "The outfit, Jan. You wore that on our first date."

She smiled happily, and laughed at doubting his memory. "I squeezed into it. I thought it would be fitting."

Fitting. Ironic. Painful. It was a lot of things. More notably, it had an odd way of making her look innocent and naïve. Like she was when he first saw her. Innocent and naïve of him. And years later, all that she had become to him: girlfriend, best friend, lover and wife, way beyond that first date, stood mingling with her time machine outfit in a way that was altogether unsettling. He managed to shake it well enough to reply, "I think it looks even better than it did back then." Taking a step closer to her, and easing her down into the chair, he added, "You look good, Jan."

She sat and smiled. "So do you."

A waitress came and went, each had ordered a drink, lemonade for her and a Coke for him. And for awhile each just sipped at their drinks, not sure whether they should look at each other or look away.

Finally, he shrugged and said, "Sorry I can't remember what I wore."

She took the straw from her mouth and hid the sad smile. She knew he truly was sorry he couldn't remember. He always prided himself on his memory, especially when it came to things that were important to him. The fact that he had been sitting there wracking his brain trying to remember made her both happy and sad. She composed herself and said, "You know me, Hank. Clothes are my thing. You wore a light blue polo shirt that brought out your eyes and khaki colored pants," she paused to grin, "And those dorky old man loafers of yours."

"Forgive me," he said with a smile, "I didn't know at the time I was going out with a fashionista."

"Well you do now, and I can see you dressed appropriately."

"Apparently, I can be taught."

She appeared far away for a moment. "You know, I still have that blue shirt. It's buried in my closet."

He eyed her in a mocking glance and said, "You mean you didn't have a 'get rid of my ex's shit' party fit with a big bonfire?"

She laughed and replied, "I didn't know the proper rituals. Am I supposed to strut around the fire and make Indian calls?" For effect, she did. They both laughed and neither cared how many stares they got. She used to love that about him. How she could make him unaware of the world around him. When they were together he forgot about work, forgot about his insecurities, and forgot about anything else entirely. It was just the two of them.

Another moment of silence that wasn't quite awkward passed and finally, Hank put money on the table and looked ready to leave. Janet told herself not to look upset. If he wanted to end their little date, then so be it. She had long since had her chance with him. They walked from the café, he with his hands in his pockets and she next to him, close to him, enjoying the way he smelled, which hadn't changed since she had him to herself.

He kept right on walking past their cars and she followed him, wondering if he just simply forgot where he had parked or if he had something planned. He turned to her and said, "Want to go for a walk?" The side of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile.

"Among other things, yes. Seeing since we already are."

"Just once around the block. Promise."

"Then at least make it look like we're not simply walking, Hank." And at his pause, she slipped her hand to hold onto his arm. He smiled and they continued walking in silence.

As promised, he led her right back to her car, and she idled next to the passenger side for a moment. She decided then what she was going to do. And nothing or no one would stop her. She turned up her head to look at him, and pulled at his arm to pull him closer. "Hey Pym," she said, "How come I still have to make all the moves."

He grinned. "Moves? You mean like this?" He took her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. Eagerly, she parted her lips and accepted him as naturally and as passionately as she always had. And having a hard time doing two things at once, she managed finally to unlock her car. He pulled away instantly, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jan."

But she wasn't going to hear it. "Don't apologize, dummy. Go get in your car. Let's hurry to your place while I'm still hot."