Aftermath 17: Protégé

by Deliverer

Hank Perkins hadn't had a place to go after putting himself through college. His venture into villainy hadn't panned out so as far as options went there weren't many. Not with a criminal record. Enter Jack Hench, businessman extraordinaire; shady but legit company, an affinity for working with supervillains, and his last chance. Fortunately, it seems Jack's taken notice of him too.

5. Personal Growth

.

(A/N: If you haven't read my revamp of Aftermath 10: Biohazard, at least the total overhaul of Jack and Betty's story, I would suggest you do so now; otherwise, some things might be confusing going forward. Also, there are a couple of Gas Station Simulator references in this chapter.)

Personal Growth

Present

"I'm sorry Mr. Mathter, but there's nothing we can do. You didn't purchase the warranty… Yes, I understand the device was not in your area of expertise, but it came with a thorough set of instructions and the warnings were practically spelled out for you!" Hank said into the phone. "I'll tell you what. Exclusive one-time deal on your next purchase, alright? Five percent off, and believe me, with the price of it you're really, really going to want that five percent… Why Mr. Mathter, it was practically made for you! In fact, it was. Part of the Go City Rogues Collection we were planning to present at the next conference in Go City. Care for a sneak peek…? Of course. I'll be sure to send you the pamphlet as soon as possible… Yes, Mathter, the discount is still on the table… Uh huh… Okay… A good evening to you as well, sir."

Hank hung up the call with a smirk. He wasn't quite on par with Mr. Hench when it came to making bargains, but he was improving. "Logic behind offering the pamphlet?" Jack asked, sounding amused.

"Temptation of the eyes, Mr. Hench sir. It can be a powerful thing if used well," Hank replied. "Catch his interest, get him thinking and salivating, get him fantasizing, get him desiring. Then we just push hard for him to get the warranty this time, and you make up that five percent no problem."

"Still five percent less than what I would have gotten," Hench replied.

"He never buys the warranties," Hank replied with a shrug. "Lowering the price of the device proper for him will make the warranty seem more appealing. He may use the money he saved to pay for it. It makes up that five percent discount and then some if we succeed," Hank said. "Now, I know that may not be the case for every customer, but the Mathter and Aviarius are notoriously cheap. Like Drakken and Frugal Lucre. They won't pay for anything extra unless they believe they're saving money. Which they won't be, because again, the cost of the warranty will make up that five percent discount and then some. Extra profit you wouldn't have otherwise gotten. If they like it, who knows? It may prompt them to buy warranties and other bells and whistles more often in the future. Which means more profit overall."

"You're the single best decision I ever made for this company, Mr. Perkins. Not including putting my wife's recreation slot at the end of the day when she was playing undercover cop prior to our marriage," Hench said.

"TMI, Mr. Hench," Hank said, frowning at him.

"My apologies," he said, sounding vastly amused.

Hank's phone rang again, and he checked the caller ID. His smile immediately vanished, and he stood up straight, staring a second before answering and quickly making his way to the door. Jack raised a curious eyebrow. "Hank Perkins speaking," Hank said.

"Ah, Mr. Perkins. Good afternoon," a voice, slow but meticulous, replied.

Hank paused, hand on the door, and seemed to rethink taking the call in private. Letting the doorknob go, he began to pace. "Mr. Brotherson, a pleasure to hear from you sir," he said a bit more quietly. Jack started. "Were you able to obtain the information I asked about?"

"That depends on how much it's worth to you. Remembering, of course, that you've asked me to break my own rule," Big Daddy replied.

"Well, I don't mean to brag, sir, but I am something of a get-out-of-jail-free card, should you ever find yourself in trouble with the law," Hank replied, leaning on a side table.

"I never will," Big Daddy replied.

Hank grimaced a bit. Oh boy. "I can get you whatever price you ask, Mr. Brotherson, but it may be worth it to consider an exchange of favors or services instead. Sometimes those can be more valuable than money," he said.

"Tempt me," Big Daddy replied.

"Well, is there a piece of information you're looking to obtain that I might be able to provide?" Hank replied. "Are you looking for a lead on anything? I can be useful to you, sir. Within reason."

"Within reason?" Big Daddy asked, sounding amused.

"Well, naturally there are pieces of information I'm not at liberty to provide without Mr. Hench's go-ahead," Hank said. "Information regarding the company, information regarding WEE or Global Justice, things like that."

"Hmm… Very well. As long as you don't forget the little favor you owe me," Big Daddy said.

"Mr. Brotherson, I have the utmost respect for you, as does Mr. Hench. You're one of the last people we would ever toy with," Hank said. "I always stay true to my word. Especially when it comes to you," Hank said.

"I can tell you they came asking about you. About Jack as well. About Global Justice also," Big Daddy said.

Hank was quiet a beat. "What did you tell them?" he quietly asked.

"Elaborate," Big Daddy said.

Hank hesitated. "I… I have no doubt that no matter the price they offered, you wouldn't say a word about Mr. Hench or his family. You're too clever for that, sir. It's part of the reason Mr. Hench speaks so highly of you. What did you tell them about me, though?" he asked carefully.

"That you have parents but were never close to them. That Jack is grooming you as his heir. That you would be worth a great, great deal to them, if they were daring or foolish enough to try and ransom you. Oh, and also that it would be to their great detriment to attempt it. I told them that Mr. Hench considers you family. I informed them you were among the untouchables, and that whatever they tried against you was on their heads and theirs alone," Big Daddy said. "They were most displeased."

Hank was quiet, considering this. "What can you give me in regard to them?" he asked. Big Daddy was silent, mulling over the question. "Big Daddy, please. You're the information god of the criminal underworld. You know what they did to me. More importantly, what they did to Mr. Hench."

Hench snorted. "Disregard the last sentence, Big Daddy!" he called out.

Hank winced a bit. Big Daddy chuckled in some amusement. "Yes, Mr. Perkins. I'm aware of what they did to you. Tell me, was it Jack who put you in contact with me?"

"No sir. I uh, I found you on my own. The Underground talks," Hank said, grimacing a little. Namely, Killigan and Drakken talked. "You weren't among the resources Mr. Hench mentioned he had until I brought up your name in casual conversation before contacting you. Just to get his advice of course."

"Doubtless a little test of resourcefulness for you," Big Daddy said. "As I understand it, you've been passing most every little test he's tossed your way with flying colours."

Hank blinked. "He's been testing me?" he asked, voice a little small.

Hench started and frowned a bit. "Give me the phone," he ordered. Hank started, looking over, then shifted and approached, handing it over. "Really, Maurice?" Jack demanded, putting the phone to his ear.

Big Daddy chuckled. "Jack. Always a pleasure," he greeted.

"Remind me to be warier of what I share with you in future," Jack replied.

"Come now. It's hardly harmful to the boy to know he's done well," Big Daddy said.

"Leave the evaluations to me," Jack replied.

"I gave him that little tidbit of information and you gave him my first name. We'll call it even. Quite the sign of trust between the three of us now, isn't it? You put a great deal of faith in the young man," Big Daddy said.

Jack was quiet a beat. "I do," he finally confirmed.

"You realize, of course, any slip on his part will come down on your head?" Big Daddy asked. "The leak was on your end, after all."

"Understood," Jack replied.

"Now give your little heir back his phone. Our negotiations were going quite splendidly, I thought," Big Daddy said.

Jack was quiet, considering the matter. "Whatever piece of information you care to bargain with, he has permission to give it to you. Putting my word on it while I have you on the phone."

"Now that sweetens the pot considerably," Big Daddy replied. "Unnecessary, though. Your protégé impresses me, Jack. I've been keeping an eye on him myself, you see, since news of a little snitch in HenchCo found its way to me." Jack was quiet, jaw ticking a bit. "It hasn't spread beyond the WSW and me. I guarantee it. They left the spreading of that news in my hands. Their mistake. I've seen precious little that corroborates their claim. They broke your rules and they paid the price. Simple as that. It's hardly the boy's fault he panicked in the wake of what he'd witnessed. He was… inexperienced. Inexperienced and faced with a rare situation indeed. That said, it seems you've slowed down, Hench. I would have thought you'd have silenced them before the slander had a chance to spread beyond their gang. Or is this the boy's project?"

"The boy's," Jack replied.

"That explains it," Big Daddy said. "It took him longer to reach me than I had expected it would, but then again, I presumed you had let him know of our understanding. That you didn't means he's closing in quicker on the Wranglers than I gave him credit for."

Jack smirked. "He's efficient when it comes to what he knows. Less so when it comes to things he doesn't, but it seems he's getting there if he's moving quicker than you would have expected."

"Indeed," Big Daddy said. "Now by all means, let him complete his little task. We'll do lunch sometime and catch up then. I'm told you've missed my company. In truth, I've missed yours as well."

"I'll arrange a little get-together sometime. You, me, Falsetto, Senor Senior. Maybe even Hank if the others are open to it. It's high time he connected with my more potent connections," Jack said.

"I look forward to it," Big Daddy said.

Jack handed the phone back to Hank, who looked incredibly anxious and nervous now. Hank quickly took it back. "Mr. Brotherson?" he said.

"The Wranglers have moved their base of operations to Lowerton. The seediest of all the 'ton' towns," Big Daddy said.

"That seems cliché," Hank said, frowning a bit.

"The West Side Wranglers are not a sophisticated gang, Mr. Perkins. Not even their abduction of your Uncle went all that smoothly for them, recall. If you consider the whole fiasco in retrospect, you'll realize how sloppy the operation truly was. They were forced to cut their losses. Careless where they shouldn't have been, careful where it wouldn't have mattered so much."

"What area?" Hank asked, taking out his pen and jotting a note on a piece of paper.

"I can't make it too easy for you now, can I?" Big Daddy asked.

"Mr. Brotherson, I just want that chapter of my life closed out once and for all. My Uncle deserved better than what he got. Please, can we not play cryptic this once?" Hank asked helplessly.

"I'm afraid that's not how I do business, Mr. Perkins," Big Daddy replied.

Hank sighed. "Very well. Thank you for what you've given me so far at least. I really do appreciate it, Sir. My sincerest apologies if I came across as at all rude. You must understand, things have been very stressful for me in all of this. I'm afraid it's wearing me thin."

"Hmm… Your apology is hardly warranted – be careful with those when dealing with the sorts of people HenchCo deals with – but your overall respect has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Perkins," Big Daddy said. "The Industrial Sector. Still quite a large area, but I can offer you no more than that. I have a reputation all my own to keep up."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Brotherson sir, and uh, as far as I'm concerned, your name was never uttered in this room today. Consider it forgotten," Hank said. Big Daddy chuckled in amusement then hung up.

KP

Hank looked over at Mr. Hench. "So?" Hench asked.

"He said be careful with apologies when dealing with the sorts of people HenchCo deals with," Hank said. "But sir, I've always heard you apologize."

"An apology spoken in formality is different than one spoken with sincerity," Hench replied. "Sincere apologies and the respect they carry are admirable, Mr. Perkins, but there are some clients we work with who might take them as a sign of submission or weakness even when they aren't. That in turn can cause massive problems depending on the sort of people you're dealing with. It leads to us needing to put them back in their place, and oftentimes that can get messy. When I apologize to clients like that and get the slightest inkling they've viewing it as a sign of weakness, I steer the conversation in a direction where I can subtly remind them I'm not to be toyed with. Something like 'Don't mistake my apology for weakness. As sorry as I am, this sort of behavior will not be tolerated by HenchCo'. One day you'll find yourself speaking to a client and you'll be able to tell just by how they behave whether it's appropriate to pull something like that off. Usually, it's obvious. For the most part, though, they accept it as is and let it go. The vast majority of our clientele appreciates the humility, in fact. It's just those choice few who don't that you have to watch for."

"Does Big Daddy ever apologize?" Hank asked.

"To me and to contacts close to him, but not to his general clientele. Take Drakken, for example. There was an incident where Big Daddy played a little joke on him. Gave him a grocery list in exchange for the cash he'd brought for information. As you can imagine, Drakken was quite put out. Bid Daddy diffused the situation with something like, 'Very well, I've had my fun'. He followed up immediately after with the desired information. That turn of phrase acknowledged wrongdoing and in the same breath assured Mr. Lipsky of no further funny business. Drakken got what he wanted, the transgression was forgiven, and all ended well. Understanding how to deal with various situations and personalities comes with experience. It may take a while, but eventually, you'll figure out how to handle each different type of client. Now, will there be mistakes? Of course. It's not the mistake that matters, though. It's how you go about fixing them. So, anything else?"

"Lowerton. The Industrial District," Hank said.

"You weren't kidding when you said cliché," Jack replied, smirking. "What are your steps now?"

Hank looked puzzled. "I'm um, I'm not sure," he admitted. "I have the information, great, but what am I supposed to do? Send a battalion of your henchmen down to deal with the situation?"

"We're not kings or military generals, Mr. Perkins. We're businessmen," Jack said. "Think outside the box. You're good at that."

"Try and play nice?" Hank asked.

"People are resources so preserving life is preferred, yes, but when certain resources go rogue, sometimes you lose control and there's no reining them in again. Besides, do you want resources in the gang who took your Uncle from you?" Jack asked.

"I mean, it was on the second in command's orders. Maybe the first in command will be open to negotiation?" Hank asked.

"You could try, I suppose, but if they ask you to meet in person, it's a warning sign that they have no good intentions for you," Jack said.

"Always?" Hank asked.

Jack smirked a bit. "Determining intent is also something that comes with experience," he said. "No, not always. Sometimes you need to take a risk, but only take risks like that if you're ready in case it backfires. I've dealt with the WSW for some time. I know how they operate. An in-person meeting will never end well for you. At least not if they insist you come alone. If they're fine with you bringing backup, they have no ill intent. It's a good way to feel a situation like that out, depending on the context of the meetup."

"It seems like a lot of intricacies," Hank uncertainly said.

"It is. Don't trouble yourself, okay Hank? I'm here to help guide you through it. My knowledge is your knowledge. You only really have to worry if you're dealing with clients you haven't dealt with before. If that's the case, ask if they've dealt with HenchCo previously or with me personally. If they have, get my advice if needed. If not, we can assume they're untapped territory. Bring me in on it, because that's the stage where we need to be the most careful. We have no idea what we're getting into at that point." Hank nodded, eyes wide. "Look, don't stress over it, son. I'm always available as a resource if you have any questions or doubts."

"I know sir, and I'm grateful for it," Hank replied, smiling a bit.

"Now, how about we…?" Jack began.

Just then Hank's phone rang and he started and frowned, pulling it out. "My apologies, Mr. Hench. I'll make sure to…" He suddenly caught his breath, paling.

Jack frowned a little, curious. "Perkins?" he asked.

Hank stared numbly at the phone before turning to him, eyes wide. "It-it's my parents," he said in disbelief. Jack started. Hank looked at the phone again and answered quickly, looking a bit troubled and uncertain. "Mom?" he asked.

"You need to come home. Your father's been diagnosed with stomach cancer. He's bedridden right now and I took a bad fall and broke my hip. I'm in a wheelchair so I can't help him," she said.

"What? Do you two have home care nurses or something stopping by?" Hank asked, eyes filling with some concern.

"Home care aides are expensive. You're free," his mother replied.

Hank shifted a bit. "How long has this been going on? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I might have been able to help you," he said a bit anxiously.

"Because we had it under control until I took that fall," the woman replied. "Come home. Helping your mother and father is the least you can do after you cost us your Uncle."

Hank winced hard. "I-I didn't mean… I wasn't the reason he was taken!" he insisted.

"Hank! Home. Now. We're not talking about your Uncle's death. I can't deal with it right now, do you understand?" she replied.

"Mother, you realize I have a job, right? I can't just drop everything and…" Hank began.

"Your boss will understand," she replied. "For goodness' sake, your father is dying of cancer and your mother is wheelchair-bound!"

"I'm not dying yet!" he heard his father testily yell in the background.

Hank bit his lower lip nervously and glanced at Mr. Hench before looking away again. "I'll drop by after work, okay? I'm sorry, but I can't get away right now. I'm in conference with my boss," he said.

"Put your boss's benefits plan to use maybe and help cover the medical bills," she replied.

"Mother, I…" Hank began.

"It's the least you can do after we put a roof over your head and food in your belly all those years!" she testily snapped.

Hank was quiet. "I'll look into it," he finally and defeatedly said. "I'll see you after work."

"Good. You should ask about working from home while you're at it, so we're not relying on care aides at all. You're our son. Your job is to take care of us in our old age," she replied. "Turns out you have more uses than we initially thought."

Hank was quiet. "Text me your address. I don't know where you live. Bye mom," he finally said. She hung up without a goodbye and he closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath and massaging the bridge of his nose in stress.

"Problem?" Jack asked.

"Dad was diagnosed with stomach cancer. He's bedridden. Mom was taking care of him until she took a fall and broke her hip. Now she's in a wheelchair and can't do much anymore. They're relying on Care Aides right now, but those are expensive and adult children and their good insurance are free," Hank dryly replied as a text came through. He pulled it out to check.

Jack was quiet, considering the situation. "Leave the WSW matter with me, Hank. You're welcome to pack up for the day and go do what you need to." Hank was quiet, looking distracted and upset as he stared at the text. "Hank?" Jack repeated.

"Huh?" Hank said, snapping out of it and turning quickly to him. "O-oh, of-of course Mr. Hench. Thank you, sir. I'm sorry about this, I really am."

"This isn't a situation you need to apologize for, Perkins," Jack said. Hank nodded and headed towards the door. "If you need anything, Hank, you're welcome to call me."

"Some work I can do from home?" Hank asked.

Jack smirked. "We'll discuss it via text as needed," he said.

"Thank you, sir," Hank replied, still seeming a bit dazed as he left. Jack frowned in some concern. This didn't sit well with him.

KP

Hank stared from his car at the house he'd come up to. Some fancy place in a high-end Middleton suburb not even far from where he lived. It wouldn't have taken them ten minutes to drop by for a visit by car… He sat there frozen for longer than he'd planned to before finally willing himself to get out and approach the door. He reached out to open it, then paused. They probably hadn't left it unlocked. He tried anyway but wasn't surprised when it didn't open. He knocked and waited a bit anxiously. A text came through and he pulled it out, checking curiously.

Mr. Hench: You've got this, Mr. Perkins.

He smiled a little at the text, but the smile slowly fell. He tucked the phone away, drawing a deep breath. He had this. He heard a wheelchair approaching and his confidence was quickly fading.

He didn't have this. He definitely didn't have this.

He swallowed as the door opened and put on a smile. "Hello, mother," he cheerily said. "I managed to get off work early."

"Good. Your father needs to go to the bathroom. He's relying on either a bedpan or someone to help him go. Bedpan with me, help with Care Aides. He prefers physical help. We wiped your backside, now it's time to repay the favor," she said, wheeling away.

"I constantly had chronic diaper rash," Hank bluntly replied.

"What was that, Henry?" she asked, looking back with a frown.

"Nothing, mother," he replied. She huffed and he frowned a little, put out. "You could at least pretend to be happy to see me you know," he bitterly bit. She narrowed her eyes at him and he winced a bit. "Sorry," he quietly said. "Do you need help with the bathroom too, mom?"

"No. I can use my arms to lift myself just fine," she replied.

"Have you both eaten?" he asked.

"Lunch, yes. Dinner is fast approaching though, and obviously, I'm not in a position to play cook," she said.

"Leave it to me, mother. I'll take care of everything," Hank said, forcing himself to be cheery. Maybe if he did this for them, their views of him would change a bit. Maybe he'd finally get some recognition. Maybe even gratefulness! This could be the opportunity he needed to repair his broken relationship with his parents.

Had it ever been intact, though…?

Some Weeks Later

Jack was worried. That was putting it mildly. Every day that passed, the young man seemed to come in looking more and more frazzled and left earlier and earlier as was permitted. His aide sometimes even pushed himself to get copious amounts of work done in a short period so he could go home early, but that was causing Hank's performance to suffer and giving him more work to do to cover for the shortcomings. The kid looked like he'd barely slept.

Hank came in looking exhausted like he was on his last nerve. "Mr. Perkins, if you need time off, ask for it," Jack said outright.

"What I need is for someone to shoot me for agreeing to this," Hank practically hissed, audibly frazzled and overwhelmed.

"The job or your parents?" Jack asked.

"I need espresso. A double. A triple," Hank said, nosing out the espresso machine and activating it.

Jack frowned a little in concern. "You've been finishing the work you take home with you later and later. Last night it was done around two in the morning. When was the last time you slept?" he warily asked.

"Sleep is for the weak!" Hank testily said.

"Sleep makes you stronger. Resets your brain. Makes you more productive," Jack replied calmly.

"Am I underperforming?" Hank asked, suddenly looking anxious. "Not doing good enough?"

Jack sighed. "Hank, your error count has jumped exponentially. Now I've been able to cover for the deficit so far, but why am I suddenly having to do the work you're supposed to have covered?" He hated how the young man's face slowly fell, but there was only so much of this that could be permitted. "You're a diamond in the rough, Perkins, and I'm not disappointed in the work you're doing, but I am concerned at how it's fallen off. Declines like this don't happen for no reason. You're better than this and we both know it, so what's going on? Talk to me. I can't help you if I don't understand what's happening."

"I'm fine, Mr. Hench! I don't need your concern!" Hank sharply replied. Jack started, taken aback by the snap. Hank bit his tongue savagely. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" He trailed off and took a breath. "I'm so sorry," he hollowly finished.

Jack watched him quietly for a moment. There was the reminder of just how young this kid was again. "You're not fine, Hank," he finally said. "Repeating that you are doesn't make it true."

"I beg to differ. The power of the mind…" Hank began.

"Can only go so far," Jack cut off. Hank was quiet, staring at him in defeat. Jack waited a moment, then sighed through the nose. "Leave the coffee here. Go down to the lounge and take a nap. Refresh your mind. Come back rejuvenated. You're no use to me dead on your feet."

Hank was quiet, head bowed. "I don't know if I can," he said.

"Hot milk and melatonin?" Jack asked. Hank shifted. "I have both," he continued.

"I-I'll try, sir," Hank finally relented, shoulders sagging a bit in a mixture of defeat and relief. He put down the espresso and made his way down to the lounge. Jack watched quietly after him. It was better to keep the kid here than send him home, he figured. He got the sinking feeling it wouldn't be home that Hank headed. More likely to his parents', and clearly something was going on there. He needed to figure out a way to crack the young man's shell, he determined then and there. Whatever was happening, it couldn't go on.

KP

When Hank didn't come back within two hours, Jack stopped being able to focus and went down to check on him. He found the young man totally passed out on a couch and shook his head, crossing his arms. He'd let him sleep, he decided. Goodness knew the kid needed it. He approached, slipped off his jacket, laid it over the young man in case it got cold, and left. He knew something was seriously wrong, though, when come the end of the day, Hank had yet to wake up. He went down to the lounge again to check on his aide. Still out like a light. Jack actually resorted to double-checking for life signs just in case, and while he really, really didn't want to wake the boy – Hank was a boy compared to him at least – there was no telling how his aide would react if he was left to sleep here until late into the night. Especially given the whole situation with his parents. Jack hesitated a moment before lightly touching the kid's shoulder. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but this was Hank's call to make.

"Hank?" he gently said. Hank made a sound and shifted a bit. "Hank," he gently repeated, squeezing the shoulder lightly.

Hank stirred a bit more before his eyes fluttered open. He caught his breath, sitting quickly up. "Mr. Hench! H-how long was I out for?" He felt the jacket slip off him, looked at it curiously, blinked in surprise upon recognizing it, then turned quickly to Jack in surprise, eyes wide.

"The entire day," Hench said, ignoring the stunned look. "You probably would have stayed out longer still if I hadn't woken you up. Which, by the way, I seriously considered doing." He sat on the coffee table and leaned forward, clasping his hands and wearing his most serious 'dad face', apparently, if the way Hank shrank back a bit and suddenly looked vulnerable was any indication. He never meant to put those on, they just sort of slipped out from time to time. For Will. Hank was the first one besides his son it had ever slipped out for, he wryly noted. "When was the last time you slept, Mr. Perkins."

Hank shifted a bit and bowed his head. "A few days ago?" he asked.

Jack nodded. "When was the last time you went home?" he asked. Hank was quiet. "Is your parents' spare room not comfortable?"

Hank suddenly looked even more uncomfortable and began shifting before hanging his head in defeat. "I'm uh, I'm not sleeping in a bedroom, Mr. Hench. They don't have one. The spare was converted into a study. I'm crashing on the couch. The very, very small, two-person couch. I mean I'm not exactly the tallest guy around, but I'm certainly longer than that."

"So, you haven't had a decent night's sleep for the last couple of weeks?" Jack asked, frowning a bit.

"Sacrifices and all that, sir," Hank said, glancing down.

"Uh huh. What sacrifices did they ever make for you?" Jack asked.

"Can you not, sir? Please?" Hank somewhat testily replied.

"What are you hoping to gain from this, Hank?" Jack asked.

"Just because everything you do has an ulterior motive doesn't mean it's the same for everyone!" Hank snapped.

"You're sleep deprived and stressed, so I'm going to let that one slide. You're right, Hank. Not everyone has an ulterior motive to every action, but in this case, you do," Jack said.

"So what if I do?! It's not like it's going to kill me to hope!" Hank retorted, angrily standing up and grabbing Hench's jacket.

"It is killing you, Hank!" Jack snapped angrily, standing quickly with eyes narrowed. Hank started, eyes wide, and stared at him in shock. That hadn't been what he'd expected. "What was the last half-decent meal you had? When was the last half-decent sleep? When was the last time you took a few minutes to care for yourself instead of them? When was the last time you felt guilt-free? Confident? Capable? Worth something?!" Hank stared at him quietly, inwardly cursing the burning sensation he felt in his eyes and the tears misting them. "You can't keep doing this, son," Jack continued, taking his arms gently and looking desperate. He cursed that fact, but dammit, he couldn't help it when it came to this kid! "They're tearing you apart, I can see it happening and I don't understand for the life of me how you can't!"

Hank was quiet, mouth quivering a bit. "I can see it, sir," he finally said, voice meek.

"Then tell me why you're subjecting yourself to that torment and humiliation," Jack said.

"They're my parents. They're sick. They need me," Hank replied quietly.

"Maybe they do, but not every minute of the day," Jack replied. "You can't take care of your parents if you can't take care of yourself, so call them. Say you can't make it tonight. Say something came up or that you need some time for yourself. Say whatever it takes to get out of going there and focus on you."

"I can't… I don't want to," Hank quietly said.

"Because of the guilt trips? The shouting? The emotional manipulation? The abuse?" Jack demanded.

"They're not…!" Hank began.

"Hank!" Jack cut off sharply. The two glared at each other for a long moment, Hank's eyes narrowed in attempted defiance, but there wasn't really a lot the kid had to back it up with, because Hank knew he was right.

"I can handle this, sir," the young man finally said, offering his boss the jacket. Jack wanted to scream in frustration. "The moment I feel like I can't, I'll call you. I promise," Hank quietly added.

"Hank, please," Jack pled.

"I'm okay, Mr. Hench. Really," Hank said, forcing a smile.

"No, you're not," Jack said, shaking his head and taking the jacket back.

"I will be, sir," Hank replied. Jack rolled his eyes with a scoff. Hank's smile fell and he hung his head. "I'm sorry," he quietly said.

"Do not apologize to me, Perkins! Was that what your parents expected of you every time you did something that even remotely annoyed them?" Jack demanded. "Is that the reason for the constant apologies?"

Hank was quiet. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Sir. I really do appreciate it. I'll keep you in the loop this time. Really, I will."

Jack crossed his arms, glaring at him and shaking his head. No he wouldn't. "Call me the minute it starts to be too much," he said, finally relenting.

Hank nodded then hesitated a bit. "They uh, they live in Middleton. Not even far from me. It wouldn't have been a ten-minute drive for them to stop by…" he said. Jack let out a shaking breath, massaging his temples. Gods, what had this kid been through with those people? "Thank you for caring about me, sir," Hank said quietly. "Not many people ever did."

"Those people can go screw themselves," Jack flatly said.

Hank smiled a bit. "Goodnight, sir," he said.

Jack sighed. "Goodnight, Mr. Perkins," he said. Hank nodded and left.

KP

He'd expected the screaming. There'd been no question in his mind that was what he'd be faced with for coming so late and forcing them to spend some of their oh-so-hard-earned cash on aides. "I needed the break, mom. I was just too exhausted," Hank said calmly.

"We never took a break!" his father snapped.

"You took nothing but breaks," Hank bitterly replied. "I'm not deluded, dad. You didn't care about me then, you don't care about me now. I'm not doing this because I owe you two anything. I'm doing this because I want to be a better person than you ever were!"

"You ungrateful little…!" his father began.

"Little what? Bastard? Witch with a B? Rat?" Hank demanded. "I've heard it all before and then some! I'm done letting your words hurt me! I'm here out of the goodness of my heart and nothing more, so be quiet and let me do my job!"

The next second, he was struck. Hard. Right across the face. A backhand. He'd seen it coming, really he had, so he'd been somewhat braced for it. It still stung though, and he didn't mean physically. He felt a trail of something warm slipping down his cheek and covered it. "Never should have wasted good money on you," his father bit. Hank was quiet, nursing his red cheek and not meeting their gaze. Tears of frustration threatened his eyes. He turned and quickly went outside for the sake of his own mental well-being. He felt the tears coming as he did and didn't think he could hold them back this time.

He shut the glass doors behind him, walked out onto the pool deck, and sniffed, covering his mouth and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He let out a shaking stream of air and pulled out his cell phone, hand trembling. He didn't give himself time to think before he began to dial the number. It was late so maybe there wouldn't be an answer, but he needed to try.

"Mr. Perkins, what's the situation?" Mr. Hench's familiar voice said over the line.

"It's all under control, sir," he replied, voice slipping up a bit. He cursed it. "But uh, c-can you meet me here by any chance? Just-just to go through some papers and documents and…" He stopped himself, realizing how much his voice was starting to break, and went quiet. He didn't want to screw this up any more than he already had.

"Hank? Are you okay?" Jack asked, sounding worried.

Hank sniffed and cleared his throat. "Never better, Sir!" he replied, forcing false cheeriness into his voice. "I just… There's a lot we need to go over is all."

There was a beat for a moment. "Say no more. Shoot me your location. I'm on my way," Jack replied. The gentleness in his tone almost broke Hank.

"Thank you, Sir," he pathetically replied, voice barely above a whisper.

"You know, it's okay to find a quiet place where you can be alone and just let it all out if you need to," Jack said.

Hank was quiet but soon sniffed. "Mr. Hench, if I'd tried that back then, I wouldn't have made it to adulthood," he replied with a forced laugh he'd hoped would come across as joking, but instead came out as bitter. To slip away from his parents to give himself some time alone, when he was young, would have been admitting something was wrong. It would have meant admitting his parents didn't love or care about him. It would have meant facing the fact he was completely alone and might as well be dirt on the bottom of their shoes. It would have meant facing how screwed up he'd really been, and then despair would have come, and then the hopelessness, and then loneliness and depression and loss, and then… He just honestly didn't think he could have survived it. It had been better, for him at least, to keep his mind busy and occupied and never give himself time to think any of it through.

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Hank," Jack said.

"I think you give me too much of it," Hank said.

"I would have to respectfully disagree. I'll be there soon, okay?" Jack said. "Hold on."

"Yes sir," Hank replied.

KP

Hank was still outside, sitting on a pool chair overlooking the pool when he heard footsteps approaching. He didn't turn or look up. Soon Jack sat at his side silently in a similar pose, looking out over the water as well. Hank felt tears coming to his eyes again. "You deserved better than them," Jack finally said.

Hank sniffed, closing his eyes. "I know," he replied.

"But don't sound convinced," Jack replied.

"There's knowing something then there's feeling it," Hank replied. "I know I deserved better. I just don't feel like I did."

Jack was quiet. "I hate them for making you feel that way…" he murmured gently.

Hank shook his head. "I don't know what I did wrong. I don't understand why they hated me. I don't understand why nothing I do is good enough even now! Here I am trying to do everything for them, and they just spit in my face and call it a day! I mean how is it my fault dad got cancer? How's it my fault that mom is in a wheelchair and can't take care of him?!"

"Miserable people always need someone to blame, son. It's not your fault. None of it. It's just who they are," Jack replied.

"What made them like that? Maybe if I knew that, then at least I could understand a little more why they are like they are!" Hank said.

"Sometimes there isn't a reason. Sometimes miserable people are just miserable people," Jack replied.

"I just… I just wanted a family that would love me," Hank said. "I thought maybe now that they were in such bad shape, me coming back to help them would show them I was worth something. Soften their hearts. Maybe they'd finally deign to call me their son! Instead, all I got was blame and curses. It's my privilege to help my parents in their frail years. It's my privilege to wipe my father's…" He trailed off, stopping himself and sucking in a sharp breath. "I just want to go home. I want this done," he finally managed to say, voice hollow. "But I can't leave because then they'll have nobody, and I know you probably think that's what they deserve sir, but-but…"

"I understand more than you know, Hank," Jack solemnly said, staring quietly out over the pool. Hank looked curiously at him, thought about asking, but then decided now wasn't the time and looked away and down again. "We'll call in some care aides or in-home nurses. Whatever they need to get by. Your benefits plan will cover the cost. Then you can wash your hands of the whole thing and go home with your head held high knowing you did everything you could."

"Only I wouldn't have," Hank said.

"You did everything your mental health could possibly allow," Jack said. "Sometimes that's the best you can do." Hank was quiet. Hench watched him softly. "It was an uncle for me," he finally said. Hank looked woefully up at him. "He played it off like he cared about me and was proud of me, but he wasn't. I was a means to an end, nothing more. A throwaway. Disposable. The man raised me, and I say 'raised' very lightly, from the age of fourteen on after my deadbeat mom, ironically enough, ran off with some indifferent stepfather I can't even remember the name of. Dropped me at a boarding school in Rottigan and called it a day."

"And your dad?" Hank asked.

"A victim of circumstance. Walked in on the wrong deal one day and ended up another notch on my uncle's custom, hand-crafted automatic," Jack cut off. "That's about the time I started to realize my life would never be normal again. This isn't about me though. It's about you." He looked at him. "There's nothing to be ashamed of if you don't think that you can handle this much longer. Maybe physically you're ready and capable, but mentally you're not, and that's where it's going to matter the most."

"It's not as simple as walking away," Hank replied.

"So we won't. As I said, care aides and in-home nurses. You can even drop by and visit every week if you feel you absolutely need to be there in some form. We'll get you through this," Jack said.

Hank was quiet. "Look at this place. And they couldn't afford to shell out a single cent for my education? Maybe at least give me enough to fix up the decrepit dump they abandoned me in?" he bitterly asked.

Jack nodded sympathetically but didn't comment. "Come on. Let's go see your mom and dad," he said instead, standing up and offering his hand.

Hank looked woefully up at him, then at the hand. After a moment he took it, letting Jack help him up. He met his mentor's eyes, then suddenly hugged him tightly. Jack held him back, closing his eyes and gently rocking the young aide a bit. Sniffing, Hank let him go and nodded. Jack smiled reassuringly, squeezing his shoulders gently, and the two walked inside. As they stepped into proper light, though, Jack froze, catching his breath quietly, and caught Hank's arm. Hank turned curiously and Jack quickly reached out, turning the young man's face a bit and surprising Hank briefly before he realized what his boss had noticed and winced. His cheek was probably still red from the slap. Scratched from his father's wedding ring as well. Maybe even bruised. He willed his boss not to comment. Jack examined the mark a moment but said nothing. Just let him go. Hank had never been more relieved. Clearing his throat, he began leading the way again.

KP

They made their way to the master bedroom where the couple in question was, and entered. "Mom, dad?" Hank said.

"It's about time you stopped sulking and got back in here. Your father's hungry. Cook us something to eat why don't you? Make yourself useful for once," the woman said.

"Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, I'm taking your boy," Jack said simply and bluntly. They both looked sharply over at him, eyes narrowed. Even Hank seemed a bit taken aback by the turn of phrase. "He's mine now. Goodness knows neither of you deserved a kid as great as him anyway. You couldn't appreciate him before, you don't appreciate him now, so I'm making him mine instead. Dinner is your son's treat. What are you in the mood for? We'll order it in, have it delivered, then I'm taking my kid and we're leaving. You can expect a homecare worker and a personal nurse to stop by tomorrow to set up shop, if you will, and help you with your current predicaments. Hank's benefits plan will cover the cost which, ironically enough, is more than either of you was willing to offer him without being forced into it. Now he really would love to stay, but unfortunately for him, I'm not standing idly by anymore while you mentally destroy him just for the lols and hit him whenever he stands up for himself. Your son is worth more than that. A pity you were always too miserable to see it. Goodness knows he wanted you to."

Hank stared at him, eyes blown wide in shock and disbelief, trying to process everything his boss had just said. "M-Mr. Hench?" he asked tightly.

Hench smirked and winked at him before turning his attention to the parents again. "Now he's leaving with someone who'll appreciate him. He's not your problem anymore. Not that he ever was. I get the feeling you two were his problem, actually, so that's going to end in about twenty minutes when we take off. So, what'll it be? Pizza? Greek? Italian? Chinese? Vietnamese? Mexican?"

"You think you can just walk in here and preach about our kid?!" the man shouted.

"I don't think, Mr. Perkins. I can just walk in here and preach about your kid. Who's going to stop me?" Jack replied.

"Mr. Hench, please," Hank pled, worried now.

"Son, don't worry about it," Jack said, eyes fixed on the young man's parents. "Everything is under control, and everything is clearly understood."

"You stupid…" Hank's father began.

"Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, the only feedback you're authorized to give me right now is what sort of food you want for dinner," Jack said. "You know what? I think I'll even stay and join you if circumstance permits." Hank stared at him with eyes wide in disbelief. "So, what'll it be? Or will you give your son the choice for once in your lives?"

"Who do you think you are?!" Hank's mother furiously demanded.

"Jack Hench. CEO of HenchCo. Your son's mentor and boss," Jack replied. "And might I say, I've never had a higher achieving employee. Five seconds before the choice is Hank's to make. Five, four, three…"

"Get out!" Hank's father roared.

"Not in the mood for dinner, then? Probably just as well. You don't get a whole lot of exercise laying down now, do you?" Jack bit. The man sputtered in outrage. The woman stared at him in slack-jawed appall.

Hank winced a bit. "Um, mom, dad, what do you want? It's my treat," Hank said.

"Change of plans. My treat," Hench corrected, already pulling up a list of phone numbers.

"What? But-but sir, you really don't need to!" Hank said.

"Oh, I know," Jack replied. "But I will."

Hank swallowed tightly over a lump in his throat and turned to his parents again. "Mom, dad, please," he pled quietly.

They glared coldly. "Fine. All we really need is your insurance anyway. Other than that, you're as useless now as you were then," his father coldly said.

Jack looked sharply and dangerously at them with eyes narrowed. His protective and parental instincts kicked into overdrive. Hank looked like he'd just been gutted, but also didn't seem at all surprised. Jack glanced at the young man, then glared at the parents again before putting his arm behind the kid and squeezing his aide's opposite shoulder gently and protectively, drawing him closer. Hank winced and closed his eyes tight, turning away from his parents and towards Hench with head bowed, near to tears. "Food. Pick. Now," Jack ordered.

"French. The priciest there is," the young man's mother bit.

"Chez Couteaux it is," Jack replied. "They don't deliver, but I'll be happy to go pick it up. With Hank of course, because he's not staying here any longer than absolutely necessary. Check the menu on your phones and let me know what you want. You have fifteen minutes. I'll be downstairs with my kid." Arm still wrapped around Hank's shoulders, he led the young man quickly out of the room.

KP

Jack glared coldly at the couch where Hank had clearly been sleeping. Personally, he thought the floor would have been a better option, but it was tiled so probably cold, and the young man's parents hadn't bothered offering even a blanket or pillow, so there was that. Hank was packing away what precious little he'd brought along, looking frustrated. "I'm done wasting my time with them," Hank finally and coldly said, closing up the small case. "I'll see them on their deathbeds. If the surviving parent even deigns to let me know." Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Hank continued. "And even if they don't, why should I care?! Why do I care?!"

"Because it's how we're wired, Hank," Jack replied. "You can break free of it, it just takes some time. The residual feelings will still be there somewhere, just more… dulled."

"Fine! If they don't call me to the deathbed, I'll crash the funeral just to spite them! Assuming they bother announcing the day of that," Hank replied. He checked his watch. "I'll go take their orders," he bitterly said.

"No. You're going to wait for me in the car. I'll take their orders," Jack said.

"Whatever," Hank replied, walking off.

Jack smirked a bit, again reminded of just how young this kid was. Sighing, he went upstairs to take his protégé's parents' order. He entered the room, crossed his arms with a frown, and bluntly said, "A strand of hair on that boy's head is worth more than the two of you combined. Probably more useful too."

"Mr. Hench, we never wanted the mousey little wretch in the first place," the woman coldly replied.

"Good. Then you'll have no objections to me taking him," Jack replied.

"It's to your own detriment, so no," the man said flatly.

Jack shook his head bitterly. "If I ever see a mark on him again after he's stopped by to check up on you, no force on earth will protect you from me. Orders. Now," he coldly said. They gave Jack their orders and he left in some agitation, joining Hank in the car. Hank was quietly staring out the passenger window at the house, and Jack determined now probably wasn't the time to breach conversation. He just started driving.

KP

It was silent for a long time between them. "You know, they couldn't even be bothered naming me. That was my uncle!" Hank finally said.

"What did they plan on putting on the birth certificate? Nothing?" Jack dryly asked.

"Mom's idea was Miserable Parasite. Dad was a little kinder. Boy or Kid. Guess the latter could have probably passed for a name," Hank said. "They were perfectly willing to leave me nameless, but Uncle Marcus was there and appalled, so he spewed the first name that came to mind. He was fresh off reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I guess, so he went with Henry, and even then it wasn't often they used my name! Usually, it was just 'boy' or 'kid'! I was basically an accessory to them! It took me longer than it should have to even realize my name was Henry!" Hank ranted.

Jack was quiet, allowing it. Goodness knows how long Hank had been bottling this all up inside, so if he needed to rant and vent, he could rant and vent until the cows came home. Unfortunately, while Hank was starting to open up, it didn't seem he was fully there yet, and he added nothing more to his tirade. Jack considered the matter in silence before finally deciding maybe it was his turn to open up a little...

"What little there was left of my mother died with my father the day my Uncle killed him," Hench finally began. "She was a mess before. Dad had been good for her, and she'd improved a lot, but he was her anchor. When that anchor was cut, she drifted off into oblivion. Drinking, drugs, wild parties, general negligence… Married some sugar daddy who would fund and enable her habits and dropped her kid off at a boarding school in Rottigan. She said sayonara and I never saw her again after that. Frankly, I don't even know if she's still alive. I was at that school for a year or so when my Uncle came. Didn't have a word to say about my mom or her lover, just told me I was coming with him and brought me back to the States. Enrolled me in a private school there instead and left me to be raised by the dorm masters. Dropped in every so often to check up on how I was doing and assess me, but precious little else. I graduated basically alone. I was popular, sure, charisma tends to net you a lot of yes-men and lackeys, but they were shallow friends, nothing more. Sheldon Director was the one exception. Near the end of the ceremony, I saw my Uncle in the crowd and almost faltered. He nodded at me and walked out. Waited for me outside, gave me some money, and said we were leaving. My plan had been to go to prom, but I hadn't really been sold on the idea. Never bothered with a date and didn't want to parade out there in front of people on my own, so the plan seemed fine to me. He took me to dinner, said your basic 'well done, nephew, your dad would be proud', and it took everything I had to resist killing him right then and there."

"He was mocking you?" Hank asked curiously, watching him now.

"No. He was being genuine. His genuine, though, was a double-edged sword. If the man wasn't a full psychopath, he was damn close to one. Borderline, probably, or a completely different thing that mimicked it like Dark Empath or something," Jack said.

"Like you?" Hank carefully asked. Jack was quiet, lips pressing tightly together. Hank winced a bit. "Sorry. I didn't mean for that to be an insult," he quietly said, bowing his head.

"No. It's fine. It is what it is. I was never officially diagnosed, and I don't particularly care to know either way," Jack said. "Whatever the nature of it, I got all the strengths of a psychopath with none of the weaknesses. The neurotypical part of me, so to speak, covered over those and then some." There was silence for a minute. "I left my Uncle and didn't make contact with him again for the next two years. Went at it on my own instead. Didn't hear from him again until nineteen. He sent me an email with a link to some little convenience store in the middle of nowhere for sale and a caption that said, 'Something to think about'. I should have known better than to trust he'd done anything for me out of the goodness of his heart… I had no prospects and no income. The well was drying up and at the time, running my own business sounded appealing. It wasn't like I didn't have the aptitude for it, but getting involved with my Uncle and his cryptic remarks was a bad idea I should have seen coming from a mile away. He was good with words, though, and building intrigue. A real snake oil type. I only learned after I purchased the place that he was the one who owned it. Buying it had taken almost every cent I owned, so I was next to destitute, and now my loan shark was my psychotic Uncle. My welcome package was nearly getting my head smashed in by his enforcer when I fell short of a bogus debt. Uncle played it off as an accident, but I knew it was a threat. That was just the kind of guy he was, and I was basically his indentured servant. I'm not going to tell you the whole sordid tale, but what I want you to take from it is that bad beginnings don't always mean bad endings. Adversity fosters resilience and determination, Mr. Perkins. Not always, but often. Look at everything you've accomplished in life that your parents consider 'nothing', and realize that it's more than most accomplish in a lifetime. Early graduate, valedictorian, double major in law and business combined with early graduation from both, and now this. What you have now. HenchCo lawyer and business consultant. Single-handedly turned around a years-long decline in profit and productivity, you're being groomed to maybe even take over the company someday. Honestly, if your parents aren't already jealous – and given how desperately they're working to tear you down I think they probably are – they should be," Jack said.

"I really want to hug you right now," Hank said.

"Go for it. It's an improvement on being attacked by Will," Jack replied, rolling his eyes hopelessly at the memory.

Hank winced a bit. "Do I wanna know?" he dryly asked.

"No. No you do not," Jack bluntly replied. Hank nodded, considered something, then hugged him suddenly from the side. Jack couldn't help but smile fondly. Hank released him shortly after and sat up again. The kid looked a bit better now, so Jack would go ahead and call this one a win. Nice change from his losing streak with his son, he wryly noted to himself. That was tentatively starting to turn around now, he supposed, but also not really.

KP

They pulled up to Chez Couteaux and got out of the car. "You know, we might as well eat something while we're here," he said. "Your parents can wait a little longer I figure."

"Sir, I've already inconvenienced you enough today. I'll just eat something when I go home."

"Will anything in your fridge still be good?" Jack asked.

Hank winced a bit. "I can get takeout," he said, putting on a grin.

"Or you could get delicious, high-class French Food and take it for what it is," Jack replied.

"I'll pay you ba…" Hank began.

"Don't," Hench warned, frowning at him. Hank winced a bit and shut up. "Table for two," Hench said, smiling at the porter.

"Reservation?" the man snobbily asked.

"Look up the name 'Hench' in your records and ask again," Jack replied. The man started, eyes widening, so Hank would go out on a limb and guess Jack had a 'standing reservation', so to speak.

"Right this way, Monsieur Hench," the man said. He led the way inside. Jack followed with Hank, smiling his clever little smile. He looked up as they entered the main restaurant and suddenly froze, catching his breath and paling. Hank looked quickly and curiously at him. Jack blinked blankly at something. Hank followed his gaze curiously, but couldn't really tell what the man was looking at that had elicited this reaction. He gasped a bit when the man suddenly seized his arm though, roughly at that, and dragged him quickly after the porter, snatching a menu from the guy and holding it up like he was hiding himself. Hank raised an eyebrow but didn't question it. At least not yet. The porter, though initially surprised at the grab, didn't comment, and led them up the stairs to an empty table. "Monsieur," the man said, gesturing to it. Hench sat with Hank, looking visibly annoyed, and lay down the menu. The porter gave the other to Hank and left.

"Once he was gone, Hank looked curiously at Jack, who was already reading through the menu but definitely not as relaxed as before. "Sir, are you alright?" Hank asked in some concern.

"Fine," Hench replied, tone a bit clipped. "What catches your eye, Perkins?"

Hank thought about prying but decided it was best to let it go and glanced at the menu. Eventually, he made up his mind, followed shortly after by Jack, and when the waiter came, they gave him their drink and meal requests. Hench was scrolling through his phone with a frown. Hank decided it was best not to ask. Hench scowled at something, then stood up. "Excuse me, Hank. I have a call to make." Jack got up and walked away towards the bathrooms. Hank considered prying when he came back but decided against it.

The drinks came and Hank smiled casually at the waiter. "Thank you," he said.

"But of course, monsieur," the man replied before leaving. Hank picked up the beverage and sipped at it, closing his eyes.

"Hey kid," a voice said from nearby. Hank looked curiously over, lips formed in an 'o' shape. A man he'd never seen before wearing some kind of old-timey hat and suit stood there, his face shadowed by the brim of said hat. "You come here with Jack Hench?" the man asked in some kind of southern accent.

Hank stared at him, trying to figure out who this guy could be. Finally, he leaned back in his seat and tented his fingers. "Jack Hench?" he asked. "I came with a business associate, yes."

"Let me rephrase. You came here with Jack Hench. I have business to conduct with him," the man said.

Hank eyed the man warily up. Something about him didn't feel right, so he was cautious about this. "I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Hench is off work for the day. Might I suggest you call in tomorrow?" he finally replied, relenting. "I'm sure he'll be more than happy to fit you into his schedule."

The man stared at him for a moment like he was trying to figure him out. Hank resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze and kept on his pleasant, oblivious smile. "What's your name, son?" the man asked.

"Hank Perkins, sir. A pleasure to meet you. And you are…?" Hank fished, standing with a grin and offering a hand.

The man eyed the hand dubiously up, then looked back at him. "Pleasure," he said, offering nothing else. Hank kept the grin on but was really starting to feel awkward at this point.

"Right," Hank said, withdrawing the hand. "As I've said, sir, Mr. Hench won't be seeing anyone right now, but if you need HenchCo's number…"

"I know how to contact my own nephew, son. It's just gettin' him to pay attention that's the problem," the man said.

Hank started, smile vanishing. "Nephew?" he asked.

"Humph. Figures he wouldn't have mentioned his old Uncle," the man said.

"In passing yes, but never in detail," Hank lied. Half lied. Really there wasn't a whole lot about the guy that Jack had actually told him.

"Tell me, what are you to him?" the man asked.

"Just an aide, sir," Hank replied, brushing it off. "Barely know the man. But I take my job seriously, so I'm afraid I must remind you that Mr. Hench is seeing no one right now. He specifically requested privacy and no interruptions so we could discuss some business matters," Hank said.

"In a French restaurant?" the man asked.

"He was hungry and I could eat, so we made a meeting out of it," Hank said. "Now sir, I really must ask you to leave. Mr. Hench won't be at all happy to be disturbed right now. Stressful week you understand."

"Mr. Hench will speak to me," the man replied.

"I'm sorry sir, let me be a little clearer. Mr. Hench will not be speaking to anyone tonight," Hank said.

"Those his words or yours, boy?" the man asked.

"I speak on his behalf," Hank replied.

"Will you die on it too?" the man asked.

"Are you uttering threats?" Hank asked, sitting back down and tenting his fingers again. "Because if so, I think it's only fair to warn you I'm also part of Mr. Hench's legal team. Now I know the nature of his clientele, so rest assured I'm not going to resort to anything as sordid as a police intervention, but I am willing to resort to restraining orders and the like."

"You don't have a single clue who you're dealing with, do you kid?" the man asked.

"I know you're dangerous. Very much so. A thousand connections worth of dangerous, though?" Hank replied. A sneer slowly began to blossom across the man's face, dark and dangerous.

"Apologies Mr. Perkins, I…" Jack began, approaching the table again while looking at his phone. He cut himself off immediately and froze, though, when he looked up from it and saw the man standing next to the table with four others at his back, and Hank sitting casually down in a chair leaning back like he wasn't the least bit intimidated.

Hank and the man looked in his direction, and the man coolly smiled. "Hello, nephew," he said. "Did you really think you'd sneak on by that easy?" Jack was utterly still. The man looked at Hank. "You got yourself a little spitfire here. Sticks to his guns. Even to his own detriment."

Silence. "What did he say?" Jack finally and defeatedly asked.

"Said you didn't have five minutes to spare for your old Uncle," the man said.

"Correction. I told him you were off work for the day and to call tomorrow, and that we'd see what we could do for him then. He persisted, so I told him you weren't seeing anyone tonight," Hank said. "Which you aren't. Right sir?"

Jack was quiet, staring at his Uncle and trying to gauge how to react. "Correct, Mr. Perkins," he finally and coldly said.

"He said he spoke on your behalf," the Uncle said. "I asked him if he was willing to die on it too." Jack's jaw ticked. "He proceeded to threaten me with a restraining order…"

"After I confirmed he was uttering threats," Hank cut in, earning himself an ugly glare from the man in question.

"And at that point, I figured he was new blood with no clue who I was," that man continued, looking back to Jack.

"I told him I knew he was dangerous, given the clientele HenchCo deals with. A thousand connections worth of dangerous though? I mean, whose funeral really would that be?" Hank asked, turning to the man again with eyes cold. Jack stared at his aide in disbelief. Where was this assertiveness when the kid had been dealing with his parents, he wondered.

Victims tended to feel powerless against their victimizers even when they weren't anymore...

Hank kept his gaze steady and unwavering on this stranger he'd never met before today, totally unaware of what the man was or how powerful he could be, and Jack saw no fear in the boy's eyes. Not like with his parents or when he'd seen his Uncle kidnapped. He had nothing to be afraid of, as far as he was concerned, and that was something Jack hadn't witnessed in regard to his Uncle in a very, very, very long time. In a strange way, it made him feel a little more empowered too. Still, playing it safe was in the best interests of them both.

Jack turned back to his Uncle. "He's new to the game. Still learning the ropes and the sorts of people to push and who to fall back for. It's my own fault he wasn't informed of you, Uncle."

"You just can't stop making mistakes that cost you, can you, nephew?" the Uncle asked.

"The mistake is on me, not him," Jack said.

"Punishing you, Jack, ain't in my best interests," the Uncle said. "Punishing those around you, though? Now that makes a statement."

"Menacing my aide won't be in your best interests either," Jack replied. "He's useful. Not just to me. He could be a valuable resource to you as well. Kid's at the height of his game when it comes to law. Graduated top of his class at Yale. Got his business masters at Harvard just because he could."

"It's a real shame all that talent will go to waste then, isn't it?" the Uncle asked.

"He's more useful to you alive than dead," Jack said.

"And a whole lot safer as a friend than an enemy," Hank threw in. Jack and his Uncle looked sharply at him in shock. "Connections, connections, connections," Hank said with a smirk, waving his phone in the air before tucking it away again. "Sir, I don't want to run afoul of you, really I don't. I have the utmost respect for Mr. Hench's connections and you in particular, knowing now that you're his Uncle. I'm sorry I wasn't able to do as you asked, but I do have a job to do. How about we start over?" Hank rose. "My name is Hank Perkins. I'm Mr. Hench's personal aide. I work as a consultant and lawyer for him but am more than willing to branch out if need be. You look like someone who could use a decent lawyer on the payroll. Just to cover all bases you understand. There's no doubt in my mind whatsoever that you can hold things down without needing legal aid, but lawyers are always good to have on standby. I could give you my card if you'd like."

The Uncle stared at him completely mystified by this young upstart and not quite knowing what to do with him. Finally, he looked at Jack. "You certainly know how to pick'em, nephew," he said.

"Luck of the draw," Jack vaguely replied, not meeting the man's eyes.

The Uncle huffed and turned back to Hank. "Fine. I'll play this game for now, but I would advise, young man, that in future you be very, very careful about who you deny," the Uncle said.

"Of course, sir. Lesson learned," Hank replied.

"Gimme that card of yours," the man said.

"Oh yes Mr… Uncle, sir. Here it is," Hank said, pulling one out of his pocket and handing it over to the man. The man took it between two fingers, summed him up a moment longer, then harrumphed and turned, walking away. Hank waited until the man was down the stairs before looking uncertainly at Hench. "Did I do okay?" he asked.

Jack was quiet, watching after his Uncle. "I don't know," he finally answered. "My Uncle was one of the few I could never really get a read on." He looked at Hank. "The next time you're approached by a client of mine who wants to speak to me after hours, give me a call. No matter how busy you think I might be. If I don't answer, send me a page. My job is to keep you safe, Hank. Until you learn the ropes and can stand on your own. That said, I've never seen anyone handle my Uncle quite like that before. I'm impressed. Puzzled, but impressed."

"Well, if he's anything like you, sir, he's probably extremely good at gauging potential," Hank said. "I'm just relieved he saw enough in me to let it go. At least, he seems to have let it go."

"'Seems' being the operative word," Jack said. He gestured for Hank to sit and sat himself. Hank followed suite. Soon their food arrived, and the rest of the meal was uneventful.

KP

Hank stared quietly at his parents' house. Jack opened the door and went to bring them the food they'd ordered. Hank looked away from the house, wrapping his arms around himself, and took to scanning the streets. Just in case the Uncle's acceptance was just an act and the man was hunting him. It was about fifteen minutes before Jack came out in a foul temper, so Hank would guess there'd been a not-so-pleasant conversation between the three. Jack climbed into the car and Hank looked nervously at him. "Sir?" he asked.

"Everything is under control," Jack assured. "Looking forward to staying in your own bed tonight?"

"The roof is leaking, the boards are creaking, the windows won't fully shut so there's a constant breeze… My parents weren't exactly handy, and they were too cheap to hire others to do it, so they let it fall into disrepair. I can do a few things, and was before this whole thing with dad's cancer and mom's fall happened, but I didn't get far, so no. I'm really not looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. At least it'll be better than sleeping on my parents' loveseat though," Hank replied.

"Y'know, there are extra rooms at my house you can use if you want," Jack said. "Get a good night's sleep. Wake up refreshed and ready to do some work around your own home or call someone else to. It would be good for you," Jack said.

Hank hesitated, considering this. "Are you sure about this, sir?" he asked a bit anxiously. "I know an ethics board might have questions about that."

"The ethics board has questions about everything, Hank," Jack replied, rolling his eyes. "Same with Human Resources. Handy in a pinch, but annoying at all other times."

"If you're certain, sir," Hank said, eyes wide.

"Then we'll drop by your place so you can pack a bag for a few nights, and we'll get going," Jack said.

"Y-yes sir! Thank you sir!" Hank exclaimed eagerly.

Jack chuckled fondly. "By the way, I've narrowed down the location of the West Side Wranglers," he said.

"You did?" Hank hopefully asked.

"That's a tomorrow problem, Hank. We'll talk about it more after you've had a good long rest," Jack said. Hank hesitated a bit but then nodded in agreement.