Avengers: Legacies

Exit Stage Left

The twins' father and Bobby's dad carried Dr. Pym into the interrogation room, Henry following a few steps behind with Azura's hand in his. He had grabbed it with little thought as the two men had stepped forward and offered to bring his father to some place more private for them to share in his final moments.

His father was so pallid, his forehead beaded with sweat and his hair curling from the moisture. Another wet, thick breath and another, slower each time. Henry didn't know what was happening, although deep down he did. On a conscious level, he lived in a dark fog, Azura the only beacon in sight. She squeezed his hand back, silent tears shining in her eyes. But she gave him a weak smile, her lips wobbling with her strength.

He entered the room, the two men lowering his father to the ground of the room, the cement floor to be his deathbed. Henry bit his lip, and his eyes trailed Hawkeye and Captain America, their faces somber and their eyes full of understanding as they met his. He looked away then, although fear skittered up his back as they closed the door behind them. He didn't want to face this, did not want to have to, but he had no way of stopping what was inevitable.

"Henry," his father turned his head to him, his eyes glassy as he attempted to focus on him. "My boy." The weakest of smiles, barely an upturn of the lips, appeared on his father's mouth.

Pym resisted bolting for the door with Azura in tow, but his deep-rooted sentiments and hope for his father's love compelled him to the dying man's side. What would his last words to him be? Preserve and pursue my life's work, and don't let me fade from history. He could only assume it would be just like that, his father's life's work more important than the son he would leave orphaned. Pym sank to his knees and gazed into eyes that hardly registered as his father's.

"You're alright?" his father asked, and his hand searched for Pym's.

He took the gloved hand, and it traveled past his hold and to the side of his neck. Henry froze, an ice pit forming in his stomach. He'd never known affection growing up, receiving a pat on the back every so often when he'd managed a breakthrough for his father, but this was different and completely paradoxal to what he knew and thought of his father.

"I'm fine, Father," he said, mechanical and stunned, although his father didn't seem to detect that.

"Good, good. I've been worried about . . . you. My son, my everything. Jan--your mother--would be proud, I think, of you and all that you are." Dr. Pym fell quiet for many minutes, but his chest continued to expand and fracture. Azura stood like a phantom by the door, and Pym wished she was closer, beside him, but she had been through this once already, and as much as it pained him to watch this happen, he had to do this alone.

"I'm sure she would be," he said, leaning into his father's battered face. One of his eyes was tinged with dark red, spreading out from the inner corner. His nose had been broken with blood, dried and cracked, across his stubbly upper lip. "What about you, Father? Are you proud of me?"

"Oh, yes, your mind is far greater than mine. Far greater a man than I'll ever be." His sight cleared, and the two Pyms shared a glance. Again, the untraceable smile of his father appeared. "My work will go to the most promising hands possible, and I'm proud it's you, son."

The disappointment surged through him almost immediately, but no anger followed even as it simmered deep within. He should shout and rage and finally call out his father for all his wrongdoings and slights against Henry himself, but the thick, wet breathing set in again. He sat back, and watched, quiet as he'd been his whole childhood, his father. Watched as he took his last breaths without so much as a plea for forgiveness or an admittance of how horrible he'd been to his own son. No whispers of love and comfort.