.
Bend Your Knee
It was quiet. Very much so. Jack hadn't really spoken since last night, and Betty hadn't pried. Their son was first to come down the stairs, on crutches and looking a bit peeved. Jack glanced over at him and smirked to himself, turning away again and sipping at the coffee he held in both hands. "Seriously?" Will said to his father, clearly unimpressed.
"You looked so cute while you were sleeping. Didn't have the heart to wake you," Jack replied. Will narrowed his eyes but didn't bother responding. "Did you happen to notice if Hank was up?" Jack asked.
"No," Will bluntly replied.
"I'll go up and check on him," Dr. Director said, standing. "Breakfast should be ready in a couple more minutes."
"I'll keep an eye on it," Jack replied.
KP
Betty made her way up the stairs and to Hank's room. She frowned a bit, hearing some shuffling, and knocked softly. "Hank?" she called.
The shuffling immediately stopped. "Yes?" the young man asked, voice a little high pitched like he'd just been caught in the act and was feeling extremely nervous.
"Can I come in?" she asked.
There was a beat. "N-no?" he answered.
She frowned a little. "Are you trying to get out of bed on your own?" she asked, sounding mildly annoyed.
Another pause. "No?" he asked, sounding even more nervous now.
She sighed in frustration, rolling her eyes. "Fine. If you end up needing help after all, though, text Jack. We'll work on getting care aides later, but for now, you're stuck with us," she said.
She left and made her way back downstairs. "Still sleeping?" Jack asked.
"Still trying to do everything by himself," she replied hopelessly.
Jack sighed. "How do I always end up with the high-maintenance ones?" he asked.
"I'm not high maintenance!" Will defended. Jack and Betty both gave him incredulous looks, and he blinked before frowning and crossing his arms.
Jack took another sip of coffee, then felt his phone buzz. He pulled it out to check the message and smirked. "He's thrown in the towel. I'm up," he said, standing to go get Hank.
Will glared after his father, as Jack walked away, then turned to his mother. "We're not adopting him," he bluntly said. Betty just smirked into her tea.
KP
Jack knocked on the door. "Come in," Hank defeatedly said. Jack entered and saw him still slumped on the bed looking miserable. He glanced over at his boss. "I'm not going to the bathroom until there are homecare workers here," he bluntly said.
"Sure thing, buddy," Jack teased. "They should be here by noon, preferably before, but you realize it's really not that awkward, right?"
"I'm sorry, would you like to switch positions?" Hank challenged.
"Not on your life," Jack replied, a twinkle in his eye. He crossed over and carefully picked Hank up, carrying him to the chair and settling him down in it. Hank looked immensely uncomfortable with every second of this. "In a few months it'll all be a thing of the past, Hank. Then we can move on with our lives and pretend nothing ever happened," Jack assured.
"Yessir," Hank defeatedly replied, looking glum. "Did-did you carry me to bed?" he awkwardly asked.
"Mmm hmm. Will too," Jack replied with a smile. Hopefully adding that little detail would make Hank feel better about it, and sure enough, the young man did seem to relax a bit. Jack took the handles of the chair and wheeled his aide to the dining room. Hank sat still with arms crossed uncertainly, clearly not sure how to process all this.
"Good morning, Hank," Dr. Director greeted as Jack brought the young man in.
"Perkins," Will coldly greeted, though he wouldn't meet the other's eyes.
Was he angry, Hank wondered? "How are you feeling, Agent Du?" he asked.
"Better than you," Will answered. Hank grimaced a bit but let that one go.
"Bacon, eggs, and toast, Hank?" Dr. Director asked.
"Uh, just toast and maybe some honey if you have it, Dr. Director. I can get it myself, actually. Just point me in the right direction," Hank said.
"Toast is already made. I'll just bring over the spreads," Dr. Director said, getting up to get the plates. She returned and set them out. "Are you sure the toast is all you want? I can get you an egg as well."
"Sensitive stomach, ma'am. Toast will be fine," Hank said, smiling a slightly tense smile. Being taken care of was clearly not something this young man was used to. Dr. Director smiled warmly and ruffled his hair, and the poor kid looked like he was about to malfunction, gripping the table tight and watching her uncertainly. She hated that it could well have been the first 'motherly' gesture he'd ever experienced. He obviously didn't know what to do with it, so Dr. Director decided it was time to back off a bit. She and Jack didn't try to engage him in further conversation, content to focus on eating.
Hank looked around uncertainly, then at the plate. He looked over at Will next and noticed he wasn't eating. Just toying with the food. "Not hungry?" he asked the boy.
"There's a lot on my mind right now," Will bluntly replied.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Hank sang.
Will turned coldly to him. "I will punch you," he warned.
"It is scientifically proven," Hank said.
"I'm going to punch you," Will said, winding up.
"Boys," Jack warned. They flinched a little, looking sheepishly over, and focused on their breakfast once more. "Gym and pool are both open for you to work on physical therapy when you feel ready for it," he added.
"Yes sir," the two said together.
Jack felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out with a curious frown, then stood and left the table to answer. Will made to go after him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No," Dr. Director warned. Will frowned at her and sat back down in a tiff, arms crossed.
Soon, Jack came back. "Hank, once we've finished eating, we'll head to my office. We have business to discuss," he said.
Hank perked curiously up. "Of course, Mr. Hench," he said.
"I'll take Will to his orientation," Dr. Director said. She looked at her son. "If you're up for it of course."
Will frowned. "I'm up for anything, Dr. Director," he said. Dr. Director smiled approvingly.
KP
Jack wheeled Hank into the office and parked him in front of the desk before going around behind it. "Before you ask, yes, this has to do with the West Side Wranglers and your Uncle," he said.
Hank nervously swallowed and nodded. "You said you found them?" he asked.
"Mmm hmm. Unsurprisingly, they've taken over the west side of Lowerton. More specifically, the northwest. Plenty of street gangs down that way, lots of competition for turf, but Lowerton would be a second branch of an already large gang, so it probably won't be long before they get a firmer foothold there," Jack said. "As far as crime goes, Lowerton deals with the loud, brash, violent, and blatantly depraved. Street gangs, strip clubs, mob violence, dissenters, murders, sexual assaults, et al. Middleton is all around average when it comes to crime with a couple of bad parts of town. As far as crime goes in Upperton, that's a little more insidious and high-level. Traffickers, underground rings, secret cults, etcetera."
"So, the WSW is in northwest Lowerton. Isn't that one of the more decrepit locations?" Hank asked.
"You bet it is. Mostly the laid-off employees of some out-of-business fish packing plant in the area, and their families," Jack said.
"So the Wranglers are probably either in the factory or in one of the old buildings," Hank said, eyes wide.
"The grunts, yes. Their leader? Not so much. He's here. In Middleton. Keeping a low profile after his second-in-command was taken off the census, but I have ways of finding people," Jack said. "Besides, I'm acquainted with the man via phone. I got in contact with him. Explained the situation. Asked point blank why my man was snatched off the streets, tortured, and killed by his people."
"I feel like that's a veil of some kind," Hank said.
Jack smirked. "A polite way of saying 'give me one good reason why I shouldn't… 'sever ties', we'll say," he said, pointedly avoiding saying anything that could be construed as incriminating.
"Nothing sordid of course," Hank said.
"Of course not," Jack replied.
Hank smirked a little, but the smirk soon fell. "Did he tell you why?" he asked.
"Basically it amounted to 'we wanted to remind you you're mortal'," Jack said. "I told them to allow me to repay the favor and hung up. Do you know why?"
Hank blinked at him and felt like this was a pop quiz of some kind. He hesitated briefly. "I mean, I can think of a few reasons," he said.
"And those are…?" Jack fished.
Hank shifted a bit and considered his answer. "Because they went rogue? To the point you don't think they can be reigned in?"
"Mmm hmm. Because…?" Jack said.
"Be-cause of the tone they took? The words they spoke? The stunt they pulled?" Hank asked.
"Are you asking?" Jack asked.
"No sir," Hank replied. "I-I think I get it. If their response to you calling them out was to tell you they wanted to remind you that you were mortal, it means they're getting cocky and rebellious. It means they might be plotting something against you or are considering it. It means that either they decided on their own to step out of line, or someone talked them into it. Now given Big Daddy's claim they're not a sophisticated gang, I'm not inclined to believe they'd be bold or stupid enough to move against you solo. Which means someone's tickling their ears with everything they want to hear. Which means an enemy or client or rival of yours is actually the one pulling the strings?"
"There you go," Jack said, grinning proudly.
"And I suspect you already have a list of suspects on your mind in this?" Hank asked.
"I do," he confirmed.
Hank paused briefly, considering something, then shifted and carefully asked, "Is-is your Uncle on that list?" Jack's smile vanished and he didn't answer, but Hank didn't need him to. That was all the confirmation it took for him to know the reply would be yes. "So, do we go for the root cause?" Hank asked.
"If the root cause is my Uncle, he isn't just any root. He's the taproot. In contrast to the Hydra, killing a taproot requires you to take away all the little roots holding it down and in place. Weaken the feelers first, you weaken the taproot. So, we deal with the Wranglers. No negotiations. They're not interested in those at this point," Jack said.
"Decimation or just a blow?" Hank nervously asked.
"Your call to make," Jack replied.
Hank hesitated a bit. "Preservation of human life, right?" he lamely asked. Jack smiled approvingly at him. "So we strike at Phil?" he tentatively asked.
"Logic?" Jack asked.
"Well, taking down their leader opens a power vacuum, doesn't it? Now that the original second in command is gone. There'll be internal turmoil. They'll scramble to find a new leader, but that's no guarantee the gang will ever be stable again. It'll be weak. Vulnerable. Maybe vulnerable enough for other gangs to take on. If not, we could even step up, though I can't say I know off hand what they'd be useful for," Hank said.
"Assets are always, always good to have on standby, Hank," Jack replied.
Hank nodded and looked sadly down at the desk. "So, when all's said and done, my Uncle died for nothing. They just wanted to make a statement," he quietly said.
"I'm afraid so," Jack replied. Hank didn't reply. "When you feel ready, I can make arrangements to meet them. Either on their turf or at HenchCo."
"Yessir," Hank replied, nodding. "Let's… let's wait until I can walk again how about?"
"Fair enough," Jack replied, smiling. "You'll be just fine, Mr. Perkins. Now, make arrangements for that old house of yours to be prepared and I'll get in contact with some homecare workers." Hank smiled a little and nodded. He wasn't sure what happened next, but Mr. Hench had taught him long ago it was best to just bide your time until the opportune moment presented itself, so bide he would. Soon enough his Uncle's death would be repaid. That was all he really cared about anymore. Aside from the family whose company he found himself in now. Where that one would go was anyone's guess.
KP
Betty drove Will to Upperton in silence. Will was preoccupied, staring out the window at the passing scenery. She glanced over at him a bit nervously, then turned her attention to the road again. "I uh, I wanted to talk to you about something," she said.
"What?" Will asked, not turning to her.
She considered her words. "How would you feel if we moved back in with your father for a while?" she asked, going for direct.
Will was quiet for too long before turning to her, eyes narrowed warily. "Is this because of Hank?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied. "Your father can't handle that by himself. He'll need help. Plus he has the equipment necessary to really focus on your physical therapy, so it would be good for you too."
Will glared at her long and hard before finally sighing and bowing his head in defeat. "Okay," he quietly said, wrapping his arms around himself. She was mildly surprised and glanced at him. "Well what else am I supposed to do?" he asked, feeling her eyes on him and frowning at her. "Pretend like that phone call I made to him never happened? Keep locking him out of my life? Act like that confession didn't… didn't fundamentally change something?"
"For the better," she said.
"Yeah. Right. Guess we'll see about that one," he dryly replied, looking back out the window.
For a little while more, there was silence. "He never meant for you to see the circles he dealt with you know," she finally said. "He did his best to keep you as far away from them as possible." Will was quiet. "It was naïve of both of us to think we could hide you from them forever."
Will bowed his head, crossed his arms, leaned back in the seat, then looked at her once more. "Mom, what happened to you and Uncle Sheldon's eyes?" he asked.
She was quiet. "One day, pumpkin," she finally replied. He frowned at her, huffed, and looked away again. "Ask me anything else but that and I'll answer you," she tiredly said.
Will glanced back and considered the questions he wanted to ask. "You have an Uncle, don't you?" She stayed quiet, but the look in her eyes was all the answer he needed. "Why haven't I met him?" Will asked.
She let out a breath. "Do you want to?" she asked quietly.
He watched her a moment then looked down once more. "Kind of," he replied. "Just… curious."
She nodded. "One day," she finally said.
Will scoffed. "It's always 'one day', isn't it?" he asked bitterly.
Betty was quiet. "How about I tell you the things I'm comfortable telling you right now?" she finally said. He didn't answer. "Sheldon and I were about fourteen when our father died. Something happened, he was angry, and he drove off in a tiff. It was winter, the roads were slippery, and he was driving along a lake. There was an accident. We never found him for months afterward and when we did, well... there wasn't a lot left to bury. Your Uncle blamed himself for that for a long time. Truth be told, I blamed myself too for not seeing sooner what… I'll tell you that part another time. Moving on, I used to be popular in school you know. Until the thing happened with the eye. Then suddenly I was the freak and the outcast. Your Uncle was already there so it didn't affect him as badly, but still. Lost friends, lost old flames, lost confidence… We were fifteen when it happened… Come graduation and prom a year or two later, I ended up in humiliation nation because I was naïve enough to believe that one of the most popular, desirable boys in school might actually be interested in me despite everything. I should have known better when the people who, until that point had done nothing but bully me since the eye incident, were suddenly interested in being my friends again. I let myself believe the night just might end up being perfect after all. My date lured me in with sweet nothings and romantic gestures, and finally, we went to a little clearing in the forest. Private, quiet, pretty. He tried to talk me into sleeping with him. I refused. Told him I wasn't ready for a step like that. He backed off for a little bit, but then pressed again and I excused myself to leave. I was jumped by his boys. They'd been lying in wait. Then he jumped me too. Cameras began flashing, people began recording, the heckling and laughing started… Their plans for me were dark and disturbing and nothing I feel like talking about with my teenage son."
"Rape," Will flat out said. She was quiet. "Did… did they…?" he uncertainly began.
"No. Your Uncle had gotten suspicious and followed. He stepped in. Distracted them. Then Sheldon was jumped too and suddenly I wasn't fighting just for myself. Turns out high heels are incredibly effective as a weapon. Broke free. Sheldon shouted at me to run. I did, totally devastated. I… I almost didn't go home that night… It was a breaking point for me and I just wanted to…" She trailed off. "I made my way to the highest bridge over the fastest river, got up on the edge, seriously, seriously considered jumping, but talked myself down from it then called your Uncle to come pick me up. Hours had passed at that point. He showed up to see me sitting on the ledge and we went back home totally silent. Never really spoke about it again. Sort of just pretended it had never happened. Probably about the last cordial moment I'd ever had with Sheldon for years to come. There'd just been this-this understanding… Not enough to repair us, obviously, but enough to mean something." Will was quiet, arms crossed tightly and head bowed. "For now, that's all I'm ready to share with you, hon, but I promise it won't always be. I promise." Will nodded. She was quiet a moment more. "Your great Uncle, the Uncle, was at the house last night."
Will started and looked quickly at her, eyes wide. "What? Why?" he asked.
"To play psychological games with your father," she bitterly replied. "I wasn't there in time to know what they were talking about, but he ordered me to bend my knee just before he left, so my best guess is he tried to play that game with your father and Jack didn't bite like the Uncle wanted him to, so he resorted to attacking something your father valued more than himself. It was a threat of some kind I know, though I have no clue what the context was. The Uncle told your father that the next one he asked to bend their knee wouldn't be treated so kindly, in so many words."
"The next one?" Will asked. She was quiet. "Me," Will realized, eyes widening a bit. "Me or Hank."
Dr. Director nodded. "Your father was tied to a tether the day he let himself care about me. The tether became a chain the day he learned I was pregnant. That chain tightened when Hank came into his life. There are not many people your father lets in. The bonds he does form, though, are strong and deep and his downfall. For as long as he has them, his Uncle has him."
"But dad doesn't always cooperate like the good little puppet he's supposed to be," Will grimly deduced.
"So then the Uncle tugs on those chains that bind him. First a gentle little pull, then eventually a good, strong jerk that inevitably quells his wayward nephew. At least for a time," she said.
"He wants dad's submission… That's what he came to the house looking for, but dad didn't give it, so he gently tugged the chain by telling you to bend your knee instead… Then pulled harder when he threatened that the next one he asked to kneel wouldn't be asked nicely…" Will said.
"And he'll follow through," she said solemnly. "So you and Hank need to be very, very careful now for a little while, or you'll end up in the hospital again. If that is, the man doesn't decide a morgue is more fitting."
Will huffed. "Let him try," he bitterly said. Betty was quiet. There was no question that the Uncle would do just that…
KP
Hench hovered admittedly a bit anxiously as the homecare workers introduced themselves to Hank, then spirited him away to a bathroom. Jack began to pace a little before chastising himself and getting a grip. He turned, making his way to the living room to pass the time with a book or work or something. Soon the aides came into the room with Hank, who was about as red as red could get and looked equally as miserable. The aides departed to set some things up, and Jack turned to Hank. "Can you see yourself being okay with this kind of help regularly?" he asked.
Hank was quiet. "I'm uh, I'm suddenly not so sure it's the lesser of two evils," he confessed.
"If you want, we can try it the other way. The last thing I intend to do though, Mr. Perkins, is make things more awkward for you than they need to be," Jack said.
"Sir, this is humiliating!" Hank complained, leaning back in the chair and shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes.
"It's necessary," Jack corrected.
Hank sighed in defeat. "You're right, I know you are, but I still hate every second of this."
"And I hate seeing you in pain, so what needs to be done and all that," he replied. Hank blinked, taken aback by those words and how warm and fuzzy they'd made him feel. It was still so totally new… "Have you called about your house?" Jack asked, smiling at him warmly.
"Oh, uh, no sir. Just kept getting distracted," he said.
Jack nodded. "Splurge a little, son. Complete renovation. Really show your parents up," he said.
"That could take months!" Hank protested.
"No one's complaining about having you here. Might take a few months for you to fully heal anyway," Jack replied, shrugging.
"S-sir, I couldn't possibly…!" Hank began before stopping himself. "Alright sir," he relented after a moment.
Jack grinned fondly at him. "There you go," he praised.
Hank perked up a bit with a smile. "I'll make the call right now," he said, pulling out his cell.
"You do that, kiddo," Jack replied as his own phone began ringing. He picked it up. "Hench speaking."
"Morning nephew," the all-too-familiar deep, cold voice greeted. Jack's smile immediately vanished. Hank, about to dial the number, paused, curiously frowning.
There was silence. "Uncle," Jack finally answered. Hank lowered his phone, now intrigued. Jack glanced at him, then turned the phone on speaker so his aide could listen in, and put down he phone.
"There a reason your mom hid him away?" the man asked. Jack was dead silent. Hank gave him a curious look.
"Who?" Jack finally and icily asked.
"You know who, nephew. And if you don't, let me refresh your memory. Rottigan," the man said. Jack's grip on the desk tightened a bit. "The king," the man pressed.
Jack let out a shaking breath and massaged his forehead, closing his eyes. Hank was concerned now. "She didn't hide him. She just didn't want him," Jack bitterly replied, sitting up straight once more, expression hardening. "And neither do I, so nice try, but no dice. Not that you would have stood a chance anyway."
"Hmm… Hmm, hmm, hmm," the man replied.
"Are we done here?" Jack asked.
"Orientation for your boy today, isn't it?" the man asked.
Jack went white in a second and for a moment Hank was afraid he'd pass out. The man's grip on the desk was crushing now. "Don't. Touch him," Jack icily and dangerously warned.
"Suppose I could start with your heir instead," the man said.
Another beat. "Don't. Touch them," Jack finally answered.
"Bend your knee, nephew," the Uncle said. Jack was utterly still. His head turned to the window in the office.
Uncertainly, Hank followed his gaze. In the distance, across the lake, he saw a glint from a building. A sense of unease welled up inside him and he pursed his lips, eyes narrowing. He turned to the phone. "Mr. Uncle, be reasonable," he said, leaning forward in his chair and resting his chin on the back of his good hand. Now I know you don't honestly believe your nephew wouldn't be prepared for something like this. That glass is military-grade! No sniper bullet is piercing it." Jack's gaze darted sharply to him. "Look, we're trying to stay on neutral terms with you, really we are, but if you insist on making this difficult I'm afraid we're going to have to take matters into our own hands. You understand of course. No police, no snitching, just a good old-fashioned restraining order and a little jolt to remind you of HenchCo's business model. Nothing extreme, you're far too valuable a connection for that, but not insignificant either."
There was silence. "You're a threat to me, Mr. Perkins. More so than even your mentor. Took care of Jack's defiance long ago. Seems you may be up next. Stunt them before they get too big to handle and all that. You know how I stunted my nephew, kid?" Hank glanced at Jack, who was deadly silent but suddenly looked pained. "Tossed his father off a bridge in front of him. Well, not exactly tossed. More made him watch the old man jump. His life or his son's. The simplest, most basic, most effective ultimatum in mankind's history. Easiest way to kill two birds with one stone. Surest way to eliminate a problem and cow an upcoming one. You have parents, Mr. Perkins?"
"Yessir," he replied. "But you're barking up the wrong tree if that's the game you're trying to play," Hank said, leaning back and examining his fingernails boredly. "They don't give a damn about me, I don't give a damn about them. At least not anymore."
"Siblings?" the man asked.
"Nope," Hank replied.
"Cousins?" the man pried.
"Nadda," Hank said, smirking a bit.
Jack noted the growing confidence and budding arrogance. "Hank," he sharply warned.
"Lover? Child? Friends?" the Uncle continued.
"N…" Hank began.
"Hank!" Jack quickly cut off. Hank looked curiously at him. "Don't tell him anything else." Hank was visibly puzzled, not sure why his mentor was telling him to keep quiet.
"You're my nephew's heir," the man on the phone noted. "His favourite little project."
Hank frowned a little, confused by the change of subject, but slowly his eyes widened as it dawned on him what Jack had been trying to warn him about. The Uncle had been narrowing down the most important people in his life. If it wasn't family, then it would be friends. If it wasn't friends… He'd given the man everything, he realized numbly, and for a moment he panicked a bit on the inside.
"You're of use to me, Jack. As long as you're tethered. But you're forgetting your place. Getting bolder with each passing year. Faster, now that that boy's in your life. Every week it's something else, it seems. The older you get, the stronger you grow, the closer you are to saying F it and acting out against your own best interests. You're not so malleable as you once were when you were a young stag all wide-eyed and eager. Like him. He's at that age you know. Young, inexperienced… Easy to break and mould… He just might be of more use to me than you are nowadays. Nothin' personal, nephew, but you know how it is. A connection goes rogue, you start figuring you can't reign it in anymore, you put it down. It's just business." Jack was silent. "So whaddaya say, nephew? Wanna play out history through your father's eyes? Won't be quite as poetic, far as I can tell that's not your kid, not by blood at least, but it'll be a darn sight close."
Hank looked quickly and a bit nervously to Jack, and this sort of look just passed over the man's face… He couldn't for the life of him identify it. Something dark. Primal. Dangerous… "S-sir?" he asked. Jack glanced quickly at him. "Classical manipulation tactic. Press until the opposition breaks and gives you all you need to take them down. I would advise not answering that." Jack stared at him a moment long and hard but kept his mouth shut. For that Hank was relieved.
"You figure I don't already have all I need to determine he's gone rogue?" the man asked.
"If he'd gone rogue, he wouldn't be listening to me right now," Hank argued a bit snippily.
"And therein lies the problem. He listens to you. Listens to himself too. But when his old Uncle gives him one single simple order, he refuses. Bend your knee, Jack." Jack didn't move. Just glared at the phone. "Can't even do something as simple as that. There's a problem there, nephew," the man said.
"Mr. Uncle, would it make you feel better if I bent a knee instead?" Hank asked.
"This conversation is over!" Jack immediately snapped. Hank looked over at him in shock. Jack's eyes were flaming now. He moved to the window. More specifically, Hank noted, Mr. Hench moved in front of him. He took a moment to actually comprehend what that meant. "Shoot," Jack said flat out. "You want me out of the picture, Uncle, then shoot." He spread out his arms. "I've given you the perfect poetic setup."
"That eager to scar your protégé, nephew?" the man asked. Hank paled a bit.
"Shoot," Jack repeated.
"Sir, no!" Hank protested quickly.
"Bend. Your knee," the Uncle warned his nephew. "Said it last night and I'll say it again. If you don't, someone else in your little family will. I won't ask nicely next time. They'll bend their knee in front of you, and they won't get up again."
"Shoot me," Jack darkly said.
Silence. "Any defense to give to this one, boy?" the Uncle soon asked. Hank looked mortified and couldn't find words.
"Shoot," Jack repeated. "See how well that one works out for you. There's a chance military-grade ammo could break through the glass, after all."
The Uncle was quiet. "No use wasting a bullet when it's not a guarantee," he finally said. "Last chance, son. Before I take everything from you. Bend your knee."
Jack's jaw ticked a bit. "Anywhere else at any other time," he finally said.
"No compromises," the Uncle said.
"You have me your ally or your enemy," Jack replied. "Meet me halfway and you have me your ally."
The Uncle darkly chuckled. "Bend. Your knee," he said.
"Please," Jack quietly said.
There was silence, and he understood this was the moment of truth. What his Uncle chose to do from here… It determined everything that came next. The hesitation was a good sign, he knew that, but he doubted it would be enough. He hadn't gotten his stubborn pride from his parents…
"Bend your knee," his Uncle repeated once more.
Jack hated the burning sensation he felt in his eyes. It had been a long, long time since last he'd shed a tear for his Uncle… He willed them away and sighed defeatedly through his nose, closing his eyes and bowing his head before looking up once more. "No," he answered. Silence. "I never wanted it to come down to this," Jack hollowly murmured. "I don't know if you believe that, but it's true. I didn't want this." His Uncle hadn't hung up yet, after all. "I was content to ignore you. I was content to let go of the past and move on with my life. But you just kept pushing and pushing… Why couldn't you just let me go…?" Silence. "Shoot me," Jack repeated once more. The phone clicked shortly after. Jack stayed rooted to the spot, staring out the window.
"M-Mr. Hench?" Hank nervously asked, feeling like he'd just been privy to a very, very private moment he probably shouldn't have seen. Jack said nothing, just wrapped his arms around himself. "Is the glass bulletproof?" Hank asked. It was all he could think to say.
"It will be," Jack answered. Hank felt his heart drop. He'd known he could well be bluffing when he'd told the man it was bulletproof, but to realize it really hadn't been was unnerving.
"You knew he wouldn't call the bluff," Hank said.
"No. I didn't," Jack replied.
"What? But-but then why did you step in front of…?" Hank began before trailing off as Jack turned to him with this sort of look on his face. Hank's lips slowly parted in realization. Jack looked back out the window. Hank scrambled to recover himself from that shock. "W-wouldn't it have been easier, or at least bought you more time, if you'd bent your knee?" he asked.
"It would have," Jack said.
"So why didn't you? Surely you knew there was more benefit to playing submissive until you could turn things around," Hank said.
Jack pursed his lips. "Because he hadn't turned the gun from the window," he finally said.
"What? What does that even…?" Hank began before stopping himself and starting in shock. He blinked. If Jack had bent his knee, it would have left him open to be shot in the head… His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. "You-you… For me…?" Jack was quiet. "Sir, you can't do that! If you get into a war with your Uncle, it's no holds barred! There's nothing he'll stop at! He'll go after your friends, he'll go after Gemini and Dr. Director and-and Will! I'm not worth that! I'm not worth your family!"
"Gemini has WEE. Dr. Director has the entirety of Global Justice at her back. Will has Global Justice, WEE, and the Cheer Squad all," Jack replied.
"Do you seriously think you're fooling me with that?!" Hank demanded.
Jack shook his head and went to his desk before putting the phone on speaker and dialing a number. "I see him," Dr. Director said after the second ring. They were the first words out of her mouth.
Jack stiffened and was silent. "You do?" he asked.
"One of your Uncle's. I recognize him. The one who nearly drowned me so long ago. He sees me too…" she said.
Jack was quiet. "You need to be careful. My Uncle and each branch of his syndicate are on the hunt," he soon said.
"I gathered," she dryly said. "Last night?" she asked.
Jack was quiet. "No," he answered softly. "Just now. The trigger was pulled just now."
Silence. "What happened, Jack?" she quietly asked.
"Just get home alive, alright love?" he said. "I'll tell you everything then."
"Okay," she softly said. "Are you and Hank safe?"
"For now," he confirmed. "It's not me he wants to take out. At least not first."
"The man is leaving," she said.
"Then Uncle is playing it slow and careful. He knows what he's poking if he goes after you," Jack said, running a hand through his hair in stress. "I don't expect a move will be made any time soon but be careful anyway. Just in case I'm wrong."
"Okay," she said.
"How's orientation going?" Jack asked.
Dr. Director smiled a little on her end and looked over the balcony at her son, who was engaged in conversation with an excited Cheer Squad and starting to look more at ease. "I think our baby will do just fine," she tenderly said. "We'll see you soon, alright?"
Jack was quiet. "I love you," he quietly said.
"We'll make it home, Jack. I promise," she said, smile slowly falling.
"I love you," he repeated softly.
"We love you too," she said. "We'll come home."
Jack nodded on his own end and hung up without a goodbye. He really couldn't deal with goodbyes right now. Here was hoping he didn't regret it. "S-sir, please. Call your Uncle! Make this right!" Hank said, growing increasingly stressed.
"Next level lesson, Perkins. How to deal with a rogue connection that fights back," Jack grimly replied, taking the young man's wheelchair and wheeling him out of the room. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get blackout drunk and pass out in my bedroom or office. You stay away from the windows, stay away from me just in case because at last check I was not a pleasant drunk, and when my wife and son get home, you tell them I'm passed out and warn them to keep their distance. If things get worse, go stay with them at her place for a bit."
"Sir, if you're drunk, who'll help me once the care aides leave?!" Hank blurted, desperate to prevent his mentor from doing something that stupid and self-destructive. "I uh, I have to go to the bathroom! I don't want the care aides! Maybe it'll be easier if it isn't a stranger. Heck, why not send them home early? We can draw the blinds. Sip cautiously at a drink or two. Talk about, um, guy stuff! Y-yeah, something that isn't work or uh, uh, wh-whatever just happened. I've already completely forgotten! Maybe you should too!"
Jack chuckled a little and Hank tentatively let himself relax a bit. "You've made your point, Perkins. I'll drink myself into oblivion after you're all in bed."
"Or you could not?" Perkins anxiously replied.
Jack laughed and grinned down at him before ruffling his hair fondly. Hank was too nervous to be shy about it and looked worriedly up at the man. "Don't worry Sport. Everything will be okay," Hench said. Hank only wished he could believe that…
KP
"You can't drive?" Dr. Director incredulously asked of her son as they made their way back home. "I thought Driver's Ed was part of your curriculum!"
"Not a mandatory part," Will grumbled, arms crossed. He refused to meet her eyes.
When she'd asked him if he wanted to drive home and he'd refused, she'd taken the opportunity to tease him a bit before letting it go. She'd intermittently continued to ask though, worried that maybe his reluctance to do so was due to the traumatizing experience of the crash.
"I can't drive, okay?! Just drop it already!"
Those had not been the words she was expecting to hear him blurt when she finally got a response, so now here they were.
"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked.
"Because it didn't matter! I carpooled with you most of the time anyway. I figured I'd get around to it! Eventually," he said, clearly embarrassed by the confession.
She sighed in frustration. "Well, I guess that's one missed experience for you and your father to bond over. He can teach the basics well enough. Once you've graduated those, I can start teaching you spy driving."
"I don't wanna admit to my dad I can't drive!" Will protested.
"Would you rather Hank teach you?" she asked, frowning at him.
"We're not adopting Hank! He's not my brother! He's not your son! He's a stray Jack pulled out of the gutter!" Will insisted.
"Will, enough! Stop lashing out and smarten up. You're eighteen, not eight. I thought we got over this," she sharply replied.
Will gave her a sharp look, then sighed in frustration. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll tell them."
"Good," she said.
Silence a beat. "I can fly a plane!" he insisted.
"Then a car should be no trouble for you," she replied as they pulled up to the house and into the garage.
"Hey, who was the weirdo that was spying on us?" Will asked, unfastening his seatbelt.
"We'll discuss it tomorrow with your father, uncle, and brother," she replied with a smirk, unable to resist teasing him a bit.
"He's not my brother!" Will insisted angrily.
Betty giggled a bit and the two of them went into the house. "Hank, Jack, we're home!" she called out. Silence. She sighed and texted the message before waiting for a response. She frowned a bit, curious. "The bar?" she said.
"Rough night probably," Will said, shrugging it off and heading up there. His mother followed, concerned at the location choice. Jack didn't usually use that bar unless he was entertaining or having some alone time with her. She got why he might be stressed enough to be there now, she supposed, but it was still a little concerning
KP
She and Will entered the bar and paused. Jack was behind it. Hank was nursing a drink and watching the man like a hawk, visibly worried. Six glasses were out in total. "Treating the care aides?" Will dryly asked.
"Um, uh, only two of them are mine?" Hank said, more questioning than stating.
Betty started and looked concerned, turning to her husband. "Jack?" she asked gently. He was quiet.
"He wants to get blackout drunk!" Hank blurted, blatantly ratting the man out. Jack gave him an annoyed look but didn't try and chastise him or defend himself.
There was a beat. "Will, take Hank, okay?" she said. "Maybe go to your rooms for the night. Your father and I need to talk."
"Seriously Jack?" Will demanded, eyes narrowed at his father.
"Bottoms up," Jack said, raising a fifth glass and downing it. Will's jaw dropped in disbelief.
"Will. Go. Now," Dr. Director ordered, frowning at him.
Will looked from her to his father then back once more, now feeling a little uneasy. "Fine," he bitterly said. "Are we talking about this tomorrow too?"
"Oh, there's a lot to talk about tomorrow," Hank said hopelessly.
"Great! Just flipping great!" Will said. "Ugh, let's just get out of here." He went to Hank and wheeled him out which, by the way, was no easy feat with a broken arm and leg. He managed, though.
Dr. Director turned to Jack and crossed to him. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "You're cut off," she bluntly said. He scoffed. "I'm serious, Jack! You're cut off! Now talk to me."
"Net's closing in, hon. That's all you need to know," he bitterly said.
"No. It's not. What does that even mean?" she demanded.
He gave her a look, then eyed her slowly up and down in a way that made her skin burn a bit. He met her eyes once more and her breath caught in her throat. The words out of his mouth were basically a two-worded and lewd way to say 'have sex with me', and her eyes blew open wide if only for how rarely her husband ever used language like that. Especially with her.
"You're most definitely cut off," she said, eyes narrowing at him and arms crossing.
"Might be the last time you ever get to," he said, going for another. She crossed quickly, covering the bottle, and he met her eyes once more. This time his expression was a bit strained, though he attempted to cover it with a sorry excuse for an easy smile.
"Talk to me. Now," she said.
He considered her quietly. "Gods you're beautiful," he murmured.
She flushed again, blinking, but refused to be distracted. "Talk to me," she repeated.
"Sleep with me," he murmured.
That was a far more acceptable invitation for sex, but she still wasn't snapping it up. "Whenever we're in the same house, I always do," she said.
"Talk tomorrow, fun tonight," he said.
"If you wouldn't take advantage of me if I were in your sorry state, I won't take advantage of you," she said.
"Hmm… Difference is I probably deserve it," he said. She couldn't tell whether it was an attempt at dirty talk or if he was serious, and neither option was one she approved of.
"Go to bed," she ordered simply. "If you don't want to talk, we'll talk in the morning."
He shook his head at her. "I love you. You know that," he said.
"I know it," she confirmed. He was quiet, just watching her. She sighed. "Come on. Let's get you to bed," she gently and tiredly said, letting it go for now. "Your pillow talk come morning had better be about what's going on."
"If there's a morning," he murmured, smile falling.
"Stop," she immediately and sharply said. "Stop. There'll be a morning, Jack. I promise. There always is."
He shook his head. "Not always," he replied.
She felt a tightening in her throat and swallowed over the lump. "Come on you," she murmured gently, going around to him and taking his arm, gently tugging him after her.
He pulled quickly away and she turned to him. He looked unsettled. "You should probably sleep in another room," he said. She was silent. "I'll see myself to bed. You… find anywhere else. I don't trust myself as far as I can throw me when I'm drunk. Probably be wise if you didn't either."
"Jack…" she began.
"Goodnight, love," he called back, waving but not turning to face her. She waited nervously a moment before following him at a distance. She watched him go into their bedroom then slipped up to the door, peering in as he undressed and got into bed. She slipped silently inside and waited until she was sure he was asleep. With a sigh, she got undressed and into pajamas herself before joining him. Risky? Very. But she'd take her chances. The last thing she wanted was for him to wake up alone…
The Next Morning
The conversation didn't go well. She'd leave it at that. Shouting, accusations, tears, and an indignant young man who'd now locked himself in his room as the other sat there looking miserable and afraid. Jack was quiet. She was too in shock to feel anything right now. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered Hank wanted to be anywhere but here right now, so she got up and wheeled him out of the room. He looked worriedly back at Jack, but didn't speak, then looked ahead again, wrapped his arms around himself, and bowed his head in shame. There was silence between them.
"Dr. Director, I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" he began.
"This would have happened regardless, Hank. It wasn't your fault," she murmured. "This has been a long time coming. My husband has been anticipating it for years. So have I. Will just tries not to think about it…"
"Why?" Hank quietly asked.
Dr. Director sighed and brought him into his room. She parked him by the window and sat on the window seat. Quietly she told him the story of what had happened years back at the amusement park when Will was twelve. Then what happened when Will had been a bit older, then about the event that had driven the last nail in the coffin for father and son, when Jack had nearly been shot to death. When she was done, Hank let out a long, slow stream of air.
"Mmm hmm," she said.
Hank was quiet, head bowed. "He should have let me bend a knee in his place," he said.
"Wouldn't have mattered. It's Jack the Uncle wants to control. You're not quite there yet," she said. Hank was quiet. "He threatened to do to Jack what he did to Jack's father?" she quietly asked.
Hank nodded. "Guess I'm the stand-in son for that one," he dryly said.
She watched him worriedly then leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders gently. He looked up at her. "You're safe here," she promised. She offered a gentle smile. "We'll figure this all out." He relaxed a little, unable to help but trust her in that. She grinned and got off the window seat, then wheeled him out of sight of it. "Just until he gets the bulletproof stuff installed," she said. Hank nodded. "Hey, call up a renovator, okay? Get your house underway. Take your mind off all this. I'll handle Jack and Will."
"Yes ma'am," Hank replied, nodding and smiling a little. She smiled back, ruffled his hair, then left to return to her husband.
KP
She was not at all surprised he'd found his way back to the bar, but she was still unimpressed. Fortunately, it seemed he was nursing this one. "Before nine? Really?" she asked.
"Sleep with me," he dryly said.
"Relieve the stress? Take your mind off this whole nightmare?" she asked, approaching and seating herself on the barstool before leaning on the bar.
He reached out, gently taking her chin between his fingers and holding her gaze. "Sleep with me," he murmured again.
"Until you can't think of anything else?" she asked, smiling a little.
He smiled back, but the smile soon fell. "Yeah," he replied. "Until I can't think of anything else and forget any of this is even happening."
She reached out, cupping his cheek. "Everything will be okay," she gently murmured.
He covered her hand and moved it, pressing his lips to her palm. "Sleep with me," he murmured once more. She stood, then hopped up on the bar proper and swung herself around, wrapping her legs around his body and her arms around his neck. She looked down at him, then pressed her lips to his. He made a soft sound, leaning into it, and began to play with her waistband.
"Dinner at my mother's place in a few weeks," she mumbled against his skin.
"You really want her in the crossfire?" he asked.
"We both know how insidiously your uncle operates. He's never been one for sloppy," she said.
"If we won't expect loud, loud might be his best play," Jack replied.
"Hope for the best, be prepared for the worst," Betty said. "You told me that."
"I'm starting to doubt my own philosophy," he dryly said.
"We'll get through this, love. I promise," she said.
He could only hope she was right…
END
