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It had been not longer than 24 hours after the skirmish with the Serpent Society that he had found himself moving back into the Avenger’s Mansion.
The entire debacle leaving the Avengers reeling. Because Hank Pym had been dead, Hank Pym had a funeral. And now he was back?
Hank—no, Yellowjacket—reminded himself that he was only so easily allowed to rejoin because of Janet. He knew all too well that she had to convince Tony to do so. That despite it being not in their best interest to have a lunatic like Yellowjacket be an Avenger, a part of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Jan needed him.
Tony wanted Hank Pym back.
Janet wanted Hank Pym back.
Yellowjacket was not Hank Pym.
Still he found himself rearranging his—Hank’s—laboratory back to the way it was before Pym had died.
There was a certain nostalgia that settled in the back of mind at his—Hank’s—no His, old stomping grounds.
At this point Yellowjacket had become something very real and present in his mind. An entity he had finally gotten control of only after Jan was in danger. A unknown blessing, for only once he had been able to think clearly.
The lab was oddly clean he thought to himself looking around, an empty chair soon became filled as a very tired Yello—Hank— plopped down into it.
He started into his hands. Who was he?
His thoughts were soon interrupted by a certain buzzing.
“Hank!” she said, whizzing in the lab before assuming normal size, “I’m so glad you’re moving all your stuff back in! I know it looks really, uh, fresh, in here, but I had the whole place cleaned top to bottom! I know you usually don’t like people touching your stuff but I mean you moved most of it out anyways so it couldn’t even be touched in the first place—“
Her voice slowly became more muffled as she spoke. Yellowjacket was pounding inside of his head.
“You’re not Hank Pym. Pym was a useless scientist, you are an Avenger now. There is no need for this lab, there is no need for her.”
He kept staring into his hands, tunnel vision, as if staring at one spot could make the entire world fall away, be sucked into one pinpoint where he would no longer have to think.
He felt like he was sinking down somewhere where he could never resurface.
“Hank are you even listening?”
He looked up at her, Yellowjacket would have snapped at her. Hank would have apologized. He just blinked slowly in her direction aware of the same sinking feeling now in his chest.
He breathed in sharply, chest now gone cold. Jan regarded him with a strange look in her eye. She was suddenly much closer to him, her hand on his shoulder.
Her touch gave him more chills. She was so close to him, their faces just millimeters apart. Somewhere subconsciously in his brain he registered the concern in her very blue eyes.
He felt frozen, overrun with chills whether it be from her touch or from his own identity at war with itself, tearing him apart leaving a shell of a broken man.
His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, he gulped and gasped as if out of breath.
“Jan..” He spoke very softly, missing the Yellowjacket bravado he had tried to assume.
Her eyes darted between his. They were sitting on the ground now, Jan was holding his hand, he was unsure how they got there.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She stared at him, the look in her eyes unreadable.
There was roaring in his ears.
He realized she was talking to him.
“—ank, Hank!” She grabbed hold of his chin and jerked his head towards hers. Something popped in his ears and the greying world came swirling back. He gasped again.
“Hank,” she said again much softer.
“Your name is not Hank.”
“Jan.” He said again, all he could say was her name. She was his all.
“Hank,” she said firmly, “Are you in there?”
He blinked.
“Yes, I believe so.”
Her face twisted in an expression only Jan could accomplish, “Good, you had me worried for a second there Hank, couldn’t have you go all disassociate-y on me.” She laughed nervously. She sounded like she was trying to pass it off as if she wasn’t bothered. But that wasn’t the case at all.
She huffed a breath and knocked on his head. “Seriously Hank, what is going on in that big head of yours.”
He sat up a little straighter. He could definitely confirm they were on the cold floor now. He must have slid off his chair at one point during that whole thing. “I’m not sure,” he whispered and stared somewhere past her.
Jan butted her way into his line of sight. “Hank, I know I try to act okay but I’m really worried right now.” His head was pounding. “This has to do with whatever Yellowjacket is right?”
He hummed. “I,“ he hesitated, “I sometimes get like that when he’s trying to take over or something.” He rubbed his forehead and ran his hands through his tousled hair, frustrated. “I’m not sure Jan,” he snapped, “I’m a scientist not a psychologist.”
She raised her eyebrow and said ever so patiently, “I know Hank, I’m just trying to help you talk through this.” God, he didn’t deserve her or her patience. She didn’t even point out that he acknowledged that he is Hank Pym the scientist not Yellowjacket, the maniac who plagued his thoughts.
She signed and brought her hand up to his head, removing his hand that had become tangled into his hair and replaced it with her own, brushing through it minutely. “Tony kept telling me you needed help. I think he was so forceful in telling me because he went through something like this years ago. Pepper would tell me about the long nights they had shared together while he spiraled out of control.” Hank glanced up her, despite his disdain for Tony Stark, he couldn’t help but listen. “He eventually gave in and started therapy and meditation which helped him tremendously.” Hank knew this, he could see the difference in the man from five years ago to today. Jan laughed to herself, “If Tony Stark can go to therapy, I’m sure it’s no problem for Hank Pym to give it a try.”
Hank looks down at his hands again outstretched. Those hands could be used for creation or destruction, that’s the power he held. And Yellowjacket helped him, he helped Hank become something greater, he had always been there for Hank, urging him since the beginning. That, despite his will for pacifism there was something always inside eating at him like a parasite to punish humanity for their evil acts, those villains he had tried to rehabilitate, they needed justice for their unforgivable wrongdoings and Yellowjacket was the answer since the beginning.
“You know it to be true.”
“Earth to Hank Pym,” said an amused Jan, “Man I really never noticed how often you space out like that, seriously Hank it—“
“Jan,” he said suddenly, something strange in his voice, “Yellowjacket wasn’t just something that happened recently.”
Jan got ever so closer to him he could smell her breath, “Say again?” She had a nasty way of sounding unconcerned in the most concerned way.
He was suddenly afraid, of judgment or shame perhaps, “He’s always been there, this voice in my head telling me to do things maybe even since before Ant-Man. After joining the Avengers it became more focused and eventually it gave itself a name.”
“Yellowjacket,” Jan breathed. She had long stopped brushing her hand then his hair. This time Hank could see the fear in every curve of her face. “Hank,” she said firmly, “Are you telling me you have had a voice in your head for years and you haven’t thought to tell anybody.”
“I tell my ants about it,” he said sheepishly, he started fiddling with his hands, a blush creeping up his neck, “The yellowjackets are less understanding thats why—“
“Hold up,” Jan said now standing, hands on her hips, appalled, “You are telling me you have had a voice and your head for years and not only did you not tell anyone about it, but you told your ants,”
“Well when you say it like that it sounds kind of silly.” He put his head down, now ashamed, “This is why I don’t tell people things because this happens.”
Jan bent down to his level again, “Hank,” she put a loving hand on his face, “I’m not judging you, like I said, I am just trying to help you talk through this. But excuse me for being a little sour that you told you ants about this before even thinking of telling me.”
“I’m sorry Jan.”
“You and I are partners remember?” She took his hand, “That means we stick together no matter what, that means we tell each other things no matter what we think the other person will think.”
He felt stunned, his chest was warm as her hand was against his. He met her eyes and finally was compelled to say what he wanted to say to her face a long time ago. Because how lucky was he to have such a strong, amazing woman in his life, with the heart to be by his side when he was at his very lowest.
“I love you, Janet Van Dyne,” he spluttered.
Her face twisted into something smug, “What was that, Doctor Pym? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
He thinks he’s hyperventilating. “I love you, Janet Van Dyne.” And next he does the unthinkable, he gently takes her head in his hands and brings his lips to hers. For a moment everything stops and he feels lighter than air.
They separate, both breathing heavily. His face starts to get hot when he realized what he’s done.
“Wow, Hank,” Jan says, “You could have at least asked me on a date first,” she giggles, rolls her eyes and kisses him again.
“I’m sorry, I don’t what came over me,” he gasped.
“Don’t worry handsome, I’ve been waiting a long time for that.” His anxiousness melts away as he realizes he didn’t screw everything up.
“You wanted this?” He is a little confused now.
“You really are that oblivious, huh,” she snarked. “Hank Pym, I have wanted you since day one.”
Hank is a little lot confused now. She wanted him? He starts to wrack his brain connecting the times she was overly close or flirty to anyone but it always was toward him. How could he have been so dumb!
“However,“ she says, “It would be selfish of me to want to start anything now while you are still unwell Hank. I have waited this long, I don’t mind waiting a little longer.”
“But Jan—“
“No buts Hank, I want you to get better and work on yourself before we can start working on us, okay?”
He looks at her again, how was he so lucky?
“Say it out loud for me.”
“Okay Jan,” he decides, “I want to get better, I would like to get help.”
She smiled, “Now that’s the bug boy I know.”
Hank shook his head and stood up from his sad place on the floor. Jan said he had to catch him as he sank down lost in wherever Yellowjacket leads him.
“You are never going to get better,” he snarls.
“Perhaps,” he says to his other, “But now I have a reason to try.”
Jan took him by the hand, “Can you come join us for dinner Hank? I’m sure the rest of the team would love to see you?” Hank is unsure, he almost pulls back his hand. “Or,” she pauses, “maybe we can both stay here, if that’s what you need. I can order us take-out.”
Hank gives it a second thought. “I guess I can come upstairs.”
Jan smiles, “They are all concerned for you, It’s not just me who cares about Hank Pym.”
He remembers after staring at the statue of him, walking to join the team. Yellowjacket thought Clint stared at him pointedly but instead he could see now that it was worry. Steve was as stoic as ever but his eyes held compassion that only Captain America was capable of. T’Challa was hard to read but his body language almost looked protective towards Hank. Maybe they cared more than he previously thought.
“C’mon Hank” Jan snapped him out of his ruminating. She pulled his hand toward the door.
“Alright Janet, let me just change out of the Yellowjacket suit.” He pulled on his favorite sweater, “Red was more my color anyway.”
THE END