10890/Surviving Infinity: Better Late than Never

Surviving Infinity: Better Late than Never
Date of Scene:	27 January 2020
Location:	Janet's Room, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	A parcel arrives belatedly to the Wasp and inspires.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Wasp (van Dyne)
Tinyplot:	Surviving Infinity

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Captain America has posed:
It's been long enough now that the days might blur into the nights. Artificial lighting not only from above, but from screens provides illumination into the wee hours of the mornings. The home base for the Wasp remains busy and buzzing as per her wont.

Steve's room...is quiet. Still. Not abandoned nor collecting dust, but the objects have lost their imbuement of touch. His toothbrush is long-dry and the towels in the bathroom remain unused. Where he last threw his jeans in a hurry to change, they hang over his bedroom chair. There's a sock sticking out from under the bed almost covertly. Where he drew his blinds off to one side to peer out into the morning means they still hang cracked and the glow from the streetlight falls in. It's a solemn silence -- a silence filled with the tremulous eggshell of patience -- with the heartbeat's thrum of hope.

JARVIS speaks politely suddenly out of the blue to Janet, wherever she may be in the mansion, his volume modulated for the late hour: "Miss Van Dyne, there is a package for you." Almost on cue, one of Tony's wee Roomba-like robots cruises into the room and heads for Janet.

It's not a big box, about the size of a loaf of bread, but it's brown and apparently something ordered before Christmas. The shipping date was before then and there's proof that it did some traveling in the interim. Even the address of the Avengers' Mansion can apparently be missed in delivery! It says specifically to "Janet Van Dyne" from Amazon -- which means the sender remains anonymous...for now.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet happens to be sleeping in Steve's bed. Well, napping-- Janet hasn't properly slept in days. Weeks, even. Long stretches of manic energy, then an abrupt and restless crash, and then back in the crisis center again to continue to coordinate the search for Steve and Tony. She's curled into a ball under the blankets when JARVIS hails her; her first instinct is to open her eyes and look to the empty indentation next to her. Something forlorn flickers through her features before she lapses back into numb ambivalence and pushes herself to a half-sitting position with one hand propped near her hip.

"What time is it?" she mumbles rhetorically, and gives Steve's old-fashioned bedside alarm clock a bleary once-over. "Damnit, JARVIS, I told you to wake me up two hours ago," she growls. Janet starts awkwardly kicking back the covers and reaches for a White Claw on the bedside, along with a few pill bottles suspiciously devoid of prescription. Pills are dropped into the flat can of seltzer and the whole thing is guzzled with a disregard for the stale taste.

"Unless it's a space phone to talk to Steve, it can wait," she remarks, and wriggles bare legs out over the edge of the bed. She stretches with a pained expression, positively swimming in one of Steve's well-worn old military sweatshirts.

Captain America has posed:
The Roomba-like little robot continues up alongside the bed and then executes an odd little K-turn in order to rotate its unrecognizable front towards Janet. It scoots up another foot as if allowing her space to put down her feet from the bed. Never let it be said that Tony doesn't imbue his little creations with personality!

JARVIS speaks up again in his same calm tone. "It seemed wiser to allow you your rest, Miss Van Dyne. Your circadian rhythms are currently substantially deviated from the standard human requirements." There's a pause that mimics a human breath, but is more the AI doing some quick calculations. "Unfortunately, I do not believe it is a space phone, Miss Van Dyne, but I recognize the credit card numbers as belonging to Captain Rogers," JARVIS volunteers as information. The wee Roomba-bot scoots forwards and backwards a short distance as if to draw attention to the package again.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet inhales sharply. "Wait, Steve bought it? For me?" Eyes widen and Janet bites hard on the inside of her cheek. For a second she looks like she's going to bolt, as if the box contains something dangerous.

The 'bot backs up enough for her to hop off the bed and she snatches the box up in her hands. It's given a once-over and a quick shake.

She pads over to Steve's desk and digs around for his letter opener. It's a proper silver one, an antique probably older than he is. With a flickering of her wrist Janet unzips the paper tape and starts rummaging through the parcel.

Captain America has posed:
"It appears so, Miss Van Dyne. I do not believe anyone has stolen Captain Rogers' credit card or its information," JARVIS confirms for the startled fashionista. When the box is abruptly jostled, it makes the smallest sound of its contents rustling -- light and delicate, more likely the packing slip than the actual present(s) wrapped carefully within.

The packaging tape parts easily under the edge of the letter opener, still agleam despite its age. Within, the packaging slip sits atop. Removing it reveals two items within wrapped in a frail white tissue paper freckled with golden and silver dots and then twined in a tumbling of pearly-iridescent ribbon.

Rectangular and metallic by touch, given its subtle chill, the first present reveals itself to be a tin of Faber-Castel drawing pencils in a brilliant spread of color. Of the Polychromos type, they appear to be solid and difficult to break while their interior element is true to hue and easy to direct, be it smudge or smear or shade. Tucked atop the tin, another set of Faber-Castel sketching pencils, a Pitt Graphite Master set, more geared towards initial sketches or visions in black and white.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet stares at the container in her hands. 'Tin' hardly does it justice; the container is a work of art all on its own, carefully hand-hammered into a sculpture that holds each pencil in place. Her hands tremble very slightly on examination of the gift.

Almost mechanically Janet seats herself at Steve's desk. A hidden latch is adjusted to prop the surface up at a drafting angle and she curls her left leg under her so she can sit on her foot.

JARVIS starts to say something and Janet waves him off, not even processing his words. The opened box is momentarily forgotten on the bed and she sets the pencils and charcoals out with a professional's attention.

A full hour passes before Janet finally sighs and sets aside the pencils, forced to relent by cramping pain in her fingertips. A likeness of Steve adorns the sketchbook page; it's a bit rough, but rough in ways that highlight his prominent features with blocky, sharp lines around his jaw and cheekbones.

It's the blue of his eyes, though, that Janet focuses on the longest. Fingernails rake a sussurance against the textile of the paper just below those sky-blues, drawn from memory.

Janet covers her eyes with her other hand, elbow propped against the desk. A sob wracks her slender frame-- just once, a choking sound of utter misery and borderline despair.

Captain America has posed:
"Miss Van Dyne, there is a -- " JARVIS stops speaking when the fashionista shooes him to silence. Tony taught this AI particularly well.

After that hour passes, and it seems the pencils have given birth to their first creation, the AI of the mansion speaks again. "Miss Van Dyne, there is a second item in the box," he seems to gently remind her.

The second present is rolled upon itself and fabric rather than anything elementally hard or cool. It appears nearly as a scroll inside its careful wrapping of tissue paper and delicately-tied confection of ribbon.

Parting the paper means revealing the finest cotton in seashell-white rather than pure white, as if the fabric were already beloved. As it unrolls, its length proves it to be a t-shirt dress in Janet's exact size to hit right above her knees. Across it, the most delicate sketches in what appear to be watercolor of fashion illustrations. A second closer look will prove them to be cherry-picked from Janet's own brainstorming pads and reconfigured -- some of the strokes are bolder than originally drawn, others finer and gentle in a breath of color -- all by Steve's own hand and transferred to the fabric.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
It's almost too pretty to wear. Janet's fingers curl and caress the fabric, testing it with finely honed senses only a fashion maven like herself possesses. The flex, the elasticity; the way it drapes, how it catches the light and even how much warmth from her own fingertip she can sense through it.

Janet's slender jaw hardens minutely. A hangar is retrieved from the closet. She casts aside the designer dress hanging from it, leaving thousands of dollars of red silk puddling on the ground like so many castoffs. In its place she hangs the gift, and suspends it from a hook on the wall to be displayed more like treasured art than an article of clothing.

Something flinty enters Janet's gaze. "JARVIS," she hails the AI. Her eyes never leave the garment. She rests a forearm across her stomach, and fingers curl into a tiny, clenched fist to support her opposite elbow. Fingertips roll thoughtfully just under her lips.

"I need a word with Mikonia, and I need Natasha and Jess out of my hair while I'm doing it." She glances upwards, speaking to the disembodied AI. "Spoof a priority recall message from the Triskelion. I just need a couple hours with her to myself."

Captain America has posed:
At first: "Yes, Miss Van Dyne?" The AI listens and replies once Janet is finished speaking, "Of course. I shall inform the Triskelion of your intentions. However, there is also a note within the box still."

And lo and behold, there is, having slipped against the interior wall vertically and flat, hard to catch in the dimmer fall of light in the bedroom. It's not much bigger than a Post-It note and tucked into a small fitted envelope of the same pattern as the tissue paper, the ivory-pale sprinkled with silver and gold. Within the folded card, the typed message in a scrolling font:

//<<Seillean>>,

Use these to show the world how beautiful you are, both inside and out -- show it those colors you see. Be comfortable while you do it.

Love, your <<Saighdiuir>>.//

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"JARVIS, you'd make a lousy spy," Janet says, finally. "The whole point is that no one needs to know what I'm doing." She re-reads the short note, over and over and over again, as if hearing Steve's voice in the words.

Her lower lip quivers. Just once. A ragged sigh reclaims her dignified comportment, a social armor that defies her slovenly appearance.

"Just make sure they're *gone* for a few hours. I don't care how you do it. I want Steve back; you want Tony back. They're not getting anywhere with her doing it their way, so we might as well give me a crack at it."

Steve's carefully precise handwriting-- too confident to be 'delicate' in any way-- is marred by a teardrop landing on the neat whorls.

Captain America has posed:
"Of course, Miss Van Dyne. I never intended to inform them of your true intentions. It would not be conducive to your conversation." And, just maybe, there's the //barest// hint of amusement in the AI's tone.

Or it's a minor hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep and combination of pills and energy drinks.

Tony's little Roomba-like creation whirrs its way out of the bedroom and towards the door having completed its task. It momentarily navigates the narrow space between carpet and door before slipping away like a coin beneath the fridge.

JARVIS speaks up again after a minute. "The Triskelion has been properly misinformed. Do take care in your conversation, Miss Van Dyne. Captain Rogers would be most distressed to find you too incarcerated for your efforts upon his return."