AU-2: Vengeance Tears Chapter 9: Drawn, Soared, an avengers fanfic

Chapter 9: Drawn, Soared

New York

Janet shook off the vertigo she felt every time she shrank. Her contributions to Pym's particle device had warded off the fainting that had previously accompanied size change. But there was nothing you could do about its effect on the human sensory system. The brain just couldn't adjust that fast to seeing everything from the perspective of a half-inch tall.

Stark had left Janet a set of instructions for safely testing her "wing" repulsors. Standing in a wide open area of floor, she adjusted the repulsors to 1 percent capacity using tiny control panels embedded in the palms of her outfit. She pressed the button. The repulsors fired – it sounded like a jet engine to her. But she knew "up there," at the size of a normal human, their sound would be virtually inaudible.

Slowly she increased the capacity until her feet left the ground. She hovered uneasily, but stably, a few inches above the floor. The wing design gave Stark the opportunity to mount multiple repulsors in each unit, at slightly varying thrust angles. This gave greater stability to Janet than Stark had in his Iron Man suit.

Janet increased the capacity more. She began to gather speed, traveling straight up. She leaned her body forward and arced in the same direction.

She was flying!

She twisted her torso, first left, then right, changing her flight trajectory each time. She found it exhilarating. As she felt her abdomen muscles move, she realized it had been a while since she'd worked out. But her old athleticism was still there. Her body gracefully adjusted to the moves required to control her flight path.

Janet arced and soared, swooped low over a desktop, rocketed toward an air vent in the ceiling – then cut capacity to avoid hitting it. The wings responded perfectly. This was going to be a breeze!

For two hours she practiced every maneuver she could think of. She also tested her stingers. Everything worked to perfection. She was just about to go for another speed circuit of the room when she heard her cell phone ring. She was nimble enough already that she swooped down to the particle device, grew back to normal size, shook off the vertigo, and was able to pick up the phone before it stopped ringing.

But shaking off the vertigo didn't help her shake off the surprise when she glanced at the number on the screen. She recognized it immediately, because she'd been given it only the night before – it was the personal number of Sir Edward Percy. She answered.

"Janet?"

"Hi . . . Edward." Janet was a little winded from the flying. She hoped her voice didn't sound nervous – even though she was.

"I trust you had a good night."

"I did. And you?" Janet wasn't sure where this was going.

"Yes," Percy answered. But he said nothing more.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a flight to London right now?"

"Yes. I am." Percy paused again. This wasn't like him. He'd been the pinnacle of eloquence last night.

"Is everything alright?"

"Janet, I realize this is a going to be a bit . . . unorthodox, but . . . ." Percy hesitated. "Well . . . I had such an enjoyable time last night that I took the liberty of postponing my flight back to England. And . . . I was wondering if we might . . . have dinner tonight."

Janet nearly dropped the phone. It hadn't even occurred to her that this was a possibility. She answered almost before she had a chance to think about it.

"I'd love to!"

Then she wondered if she should have worked a bit more coyness into it.

"Wonderful!" Percy's fluency returned. "I have a place in mind that I think you'll like. But the same promise holds – I assure you absolute privacy and anonymity. No one will know where you are. Shall I have the car come 'round for you again?"

"That'd be great."

"What time?"

Janet looked at her watch on the desk. "Why don't we say seven?"

"Seven is perfect. I'll see you then."

Janet ended the call and took a deep breath. Oh my God. A Knight of the British Order wants to take me to dinner? She was accustomed to moving in the circles of New York's wealthy and connected, thanks to her position at Yale. But this was a whole new level of it.

She swallowed hard. Many more hours of flight practice to go – and she could tell already she'd have trouble keeping her mind on it.

Or maybe not. Flying was exactly what she felt doing right now.

The same Rolls Royce with the same driver met her outside the Stark Industries gate. After last night had gone so well, with no harm done, Janet didn't even consider telling Stark or Pym she was leaving.

Her anticipation grew when the Rolls pulled onto the expressway headed toward the city. It grew even more as the car soared out over the Triborough Bridge, and she saw the Manhattan skyline up close for the first time since she'd come to Stark Industries. She felt like a woman who'd been in prison, at last set free. As the car plunged into the concrete and steel forest of Manhattan, she was like a kid on vacation – gawking at the lights, gazing at the buildings . . . and jealous of the people she saw walking thick and fast on the sidewalks. So free to live their lives. So anonymous in the crowds of New York.

The Rolls pulled up to a nondescript metal door on the back side of a skyscraper, and Janet tensed briefly. Where is he taking me? But the door opened as soon as the car came to a stop, and a young man in a hotel uniform held it open. She realized this must be part of the privacy Percy had promised. She got out and walked toward the door, and saw that the man's name tag was from the Four Seasons.

Nice!

The hotel staffer led her through empty back hallways to an unmarked door that opened into the hotel's elevator lobby. There, he called an elevator car with no one in it, swiped his key card through the control panel inside, pushed the button for the 52nd floor, and stepped off. "Enjoy your evening ma'am," was all he said.

Janet was mystified. "Is there a restaurant up there?"

But the doors closed before the man could answer. Janet rode alone 52 floors up. When the doors opened, there stood Percy.

"Good evening, Janet."

Janet wasn't sure where she was. Did he bring me to his hotel room?

"Hi Edward." She stepped out of the elevator. "I thought you said you'd picked a nice place for us to have dinner."

"I did." He gestured to his right. "This one."

Janet looked over . . . and felt her mouth literally drop open. She was looking into a living room, modernly elegant and beautifully appointed. Evidently this was Percy's suite. But on the far side of the room, on a raised platform surrounded by angled floor-to-ceiling windows, she saw an intimate table for two set with china, crystal and candles. And through the windows, one of the most amazing views of Manhattan she'd ever seen. The table actually sat partially extended into the protruding "V" made by the windows. It would be like having dinner on a cloud.

"Oh my God, Edward!" Percy extended his elbow. She slid her arm through it only semi-consciously.

"I promised you privacy, didn't I?"

"You did, but . . . ."

She'd expected something closer to a speakeasy – a basement hideaway or a private alcove in an intimate restaurant. She never expected this.

They arrived at the table. Percy pulled a chair out for her. She sat and stared out at the city, spreading out below them in all directions. She had a 180-degree view.

"Do you like it?" Percy asked.

"This is . . . this is beautiful," Janet gasped. "Is this your room?"

"Well, only for tonight. Usually when I come to New York, I stay in a condo I own." Percy leaned forward until he caught Janet's eye. "But I wanted only the best for tonight."

Janet tore her eyes away to look around the room. She could see corridors leading off in every direction to other rooms.

"How big is this place?"

Percy smiled modestly. "Actually . . . it's the whole floor."

"The whole floor! Edward, what did you pay for this!?"

"Janet, please." Percy motioned with his hand. "To give you an evening like you deserve, and the privacy I promised . . . it's worth every penny."

Janet found herself struggling to maintain composure. This was incredible! She couldn't believe the view, the place, the luxury, the expense . . . the thoughtfulness. She'd never been out with a man of Percy's means, who could pull something like this off. But she couldn't remember any guy she'd ever gone out with managing every detail to such perfection, even with what means he had.

An attendant appeared at her shoulder. "Can I pour you some wine ma'am?"

Janet looked up at him like he was someone out of a dream. "Sure." He has a waiter in his hotel room?

"I selected a Chateau-Grillet," Percy interjected. "I hope it's to your liking."

"I'm . . . sure it's fine." Janet did retain enough presence of mind to recall that she'd heard once years ago that Chateau-Grillet was one of the world's finest wines. But when she sipped it, this dream got even more amazing.

"Oh my God. This is the best wine I think I've ever had!"

"Excellent!" Percy sat back, seeming genuinely pleased. "I also took the liberty of ordering an array of my favorites from Benoit – which they don't ordinarily allow you to do here at the hotel, but I managed to persuade them. Let's see." Percy looked over at an enormous roll-in service table covered with burner dishes. "Pied de cochon, short rib parmentier, Comte cheese soufflé, foie gras terrine . . . ." He hesitated.

"Prime beef tartare, sir," the waiter inserted helpfully.

"Ah yes," Percy continued. "And of course filet mignon." Percy looked back at her, enthusiasm unmasked in his eyes. "And I just ordered one of everything from the dessert menu. That way, you can have anything your heart desires."

Janet stared in disbelief. "This . . . is just incredible!" She laughed. "Oh my God, I had no idea! No idea!"

Percy smiled. "I am truly happy to hear you say that." He looked back at the waiter. "Shall we begin then?"

Thus began the most amazing meal Janet could ever remember having.

Percy had an amazing way of putting her at ease. Based on his academic credentials, he was the kind of person she would ordinarily idolize. Based on his honorific titles, he was the kind of person she might expect to read about in magazines or see on TV. But as the meal went on and the wine flowed, their conversation flowed with it, as naturally and easily as if they'd been friends all their lives. He wanted to know everything about her: how she'd decided to follow in her father's footsteps and become a research scientist, how she had decided on Yale, what her mother was like. And though "the incident" with Pym loomed over her life like a storm cloud, Percy managed to stay off the subject, while somehow also drawing out of her what dreams she had before it. Talking with him was like making love using your mind. Everything just gushed out of her – all her hopes, all her fears, all her thoughts on subjects great and small.

And always, the wine flowed on and on.

She asked him about his home in England. His answer bespoke genuine modesty. All she could extract from him was affirmation that, yes, it was a castle. But he also seemed truly determined that this not erect a barrier between them.

He ordered another bottle of the wine (Janet couldn't remember how many that was now), and they talked on. He was everything Janet found lacking in most men: a masterful conversationalist, intelligent, curious, funny and caring. She could tell already she was startling to feel something very . . . different about him.

Dinner was long past and the desert table had been thoroughly pillaged when Percy looked suddenly as if he'd just remembered something he'd been intending to bring up.

"By the way, I've been thinking about what you told me about your research. I don't suppose there's any chance I could get a look at some of the data myself is there? I'd love to see it."

Even through the wine humming in her brain, Janet hesitated. Stark had declared top secret everything that any of them had been working on prior to the Avengers. He'd brought all the data into his private, secure server at the company. She knew he wouldn't want it shared with anyone, even one of her father's former colleagues.

But then she thought: What right does he have to tell me what I can do with my own research?

"Tell you what," Janet said. "I'll talk to Tony and Hank. I don't see any reason you shouldn't get a look at it. I'd value your insights."

"Tony and Hank," Percy echoed. "Those are your research partners?"

"Yeah." Janet looked away and laughed a little. "Although sometimes I wish they weren't."

"What do you mean?"

Somewhere in the back of her alcohol-fuzzed mind, Janet knew she shouldn't be sharing any of this. But she'd never talked to anyone like Percy before – he drew her out like Spring draws a flower.

"It's just that . . . ." She propped her chin with one hand and started running her finger around the rim of her wine glass with the other. "They've started this project . . . team would be more like it. They call it The Avengers." She made quote marks in the air with her fingers, then laughed. "Like it's some street gang or something. But all we've done since we formed it is work on all these new technologies and weapons and stuff - supposedly so we can go off and get revenge on the people who killed our loved ones."

Janet slumped her head back onto her hand. "But so far, we haven't accomplished anything. And it doesn't look like I'll ever find out who killed my father. And that's all I want . . . I don't care about revenge or weapons or becoming a team. I just want to find out who killed my father, so they can be brought to justice."

Percy listed to all of this attentively. But he looked increasingly grim. He remained silent a long time after Janet finished speaking. Then he began.

"So this 'Tony' . . . he wouldn't be the Tony Stark who is CEO of the company, would he?"

"Yep, that's him."

"And who is Hank?"

"Henry Pym," Janet answered. "You may have heard of him . . . world's most brilliant researcher in subatomic particles."

"No. I'm afraid I haven't." Percy shook his head. "It's a pity."

"What, not knowing Hank?"

"No. It's a pity that a gathering of such intellects should waste their talents on nothing more humanitarian than revenge."

Janet focused more when he said this. She hadn't thought of it like that before.

"I mean, I don't wish to be critical," Percy went on. "Most certainly not of you. But think of all the good a group like that could do. For everyone." Percy sounded almost reluctant to say the next part. "Not just themselves."

Janet was reminded of the conversation she, Stark, Pym and Blake had on the ship. She shook her head, as if trying to clear up whether it was a real memory, or whether she'd dreamed it.

"We talked about that," she began, haltingly. But we somehow got lost along the way. "It seemed so important at the time."

Janet got lost in thought. It was several minutes before she realized that Percy was still looking at her, waiting in silence.

She got an idea. "You know what? I should introduce you to them. You'd make a great addition to the team."

Percy looked embarrassed. "Oh, no . . . that's not what I meant."

"No, seriously!" Janet enthused. "Your perpspect . . . your per-SPEK . . ." My word, her lips felt so thick. "Your point of view is exactly what this group needs. And I think you're the only person I've ever met who's the intellectual – (well that word came out alright) - equal of those two. That way there wouldn't be any problem with you seeing my research. You'd be one of us!"

It was such a perfect idea, Janet couldn't wait to share it with Stark and Pym. She took another sip of wine to congratulate herself.

Percy seemed genuinely flattered. "Well, I would be honored to be considered. That's very kind of you, Janet."

"Hmm, maybe," Janet smiled. "Or maybe self-serving of me."

"How is that?"

"Because maybe you could take my place."

Percy frowned. "Well, there'd go the enjoyment of it."

Janet giggled. She brought the wine glass to her lips again, and just as quickly, she thought of something, and felt suddenly sad. She put the glass back down and sighed.

"If Dad was still alive, I know he'd have never let me get mixed up in something like this Avengers group. But he's the reason I got involved in the first place." She shook her head. "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like just a stupid little girl, taking all the wrong steps. "

Percy gazed at Janet compassionately. "Come on." She looked up to see his hand extended across the table to her. "There's something I'd like to show you."

Janet took his hand. He scooped up their wine glasses with his other hand, and led her off the low platform the table was on – she stumbled a little coming down the steps. Then he guided her through the amazing hotel suite. He led her down a corridor that passed a gorgeous library, to a set of glass doors that opened onto a balcony. He opened them, and Janet felt the brusque night air scare against her face. They stepped out into the open. Far below, she could hear the sound of the traffic, and the dull background rumble of the city that never sleeps.

Lights stretched out in all directions as far as she could see. The tiny rectangular windows of the nearby skyscrapers looked like a pointillist painting in black and yellow. The few clouds gliding overhead reflected gray and purple back against the canvas. Janet couldn't remember the city ever looking so beautiful. With her head swimming from the wine, she felt almost like she was floating over New York - like she had her wings back on, and she was very small and free. But then, that seemed like a long time ago to her now. Like another life. Had it really only been that afternoon she had really flown?

"Janet." Percy turned toward her and brought her back to the moment. "If there's one thing I feel sure of, it's that you're not a little girl taking all the wrong steps. Your father would be very proud of you."

Janet felt tears trying to well up in her eyes. She turned to Percy. "All I want is to find out who killed him." Janet turned back and looked out over the city again.

"Tell you what," Percy said. "Since you've been so kind as to look into sharing your research with me. . . and to share this night with me," Percy placed a hand gently on her shoulder, ". . . I will see if there is anything I can do to get any clues as to who killed your father."

Janet looked up, hope rising inside her at the prospect of someone – anyone - willing to help. But just as quickly, hope fading. What chance could Percy have at a problem like that? Consciously or not, she voiced the question.

"How're you going to do that?"

Percy shrugged. "Well, we worked in similar fields, and I stay pretty connected . . . you never know. Perhaps someone was working with him near the end . . . someone who knows something, or someone whose involvement doesn't make sense. We'll see. Mind you, I'm not claiming to offer much hope. But I can ask around." He paused. "And . . . ."

Janet looked at him. "And, what?"

Percy turned and stared out over Manhattan. "Janet, without wishing to say too much . . . let me just say that you don't get to the place I am without gaining at least the knowledge that there are people out there – the kinds of people who really might be able to find something out. Now I'm not making any promises. But there are . . . people I can contact." He grinned a sly little grin and turned back toward her. "I'm not entirely without resources."

Janet smiled.

"And if by bringing those resources to bear on your concern, I could move you even a step or two closer to your answer, it would be well worth it to me." He reached out and gently lifted her face toward his with his hand. "Worth it to me to bring a smile to your face."

Janet felt her heart start to melt at these words. Through the wine, through the tears welling heavier in her eyes, she saw him leaning down to kiss her. And if she had any thought of resisting, she surrendered it willingly. She closed her eyes and felt his lips press against hers, his arms wrap around her. And she gave herself to his embrace and lost herself in his kiss. And all the lights of New York couldn't compare to the lights she felt tingling inside her body.

After what seemed like hours, he pulled away. She felt suddenly cold without his arms around her. She didn't want it to end. But he remained the very portrait of a gentleman.

"Come on," he said. "We've got to get you home."