Hal and Steve pushed through the last stretch of trees, stepping out of the forest and into the quiet, suburban streets of Kent, Connecticut. The neighborhood looked peaceful—rows of neatly trimmed hedges, driveways lined with bikes, mailboxes, and morning newspapers. But something was off.
As they rounded the corner to their destination, Hal stopped in his tracks.
"…Seriously?" he muttered.
The house ahead—a modest two-story tucked in between others like it—was surrounded by tents. Not the camping kind. These were military-grade, green canvas structures stretching across the driveway and spilling onto the road. Vehicles were parked nearby. A few agents milled about, all business.
Steve and Hal exchanged a look before heading toward the main tent.
The logos on the equipment said "CIA," but both of them knew better. This was S.W.O.R.D.—likely operating under the intelligence agency's name to avoid attention. The guards posted at the entrance didn't stop them. One quick glance at Steve Rogers was enough. Captain America needed no clearance.
Inside, the tent buzzed with quiet activity—monitors, comms, agents pacing. At the center stood a blonde, middle-aged woman barking quiet orders to a junior officer. She turned the moment she saw Steve, and approached with her hand out.
"Captain Rogers. Thanks for coming on short notice," she said briskly. "I'm McKinley. Operations lead for this state."
Steve shook her hand but didn't return the smile. "We didn't ask for this kind of backup," he said flatly. "People are going to notice. This isn't subtle."
"It's protocol," McKinley said with a shrug. "The girl made her entire classroom turn on each other. If she has another breakdown, it could affect the entire block. And this is suburban Connecticut, Captain. You know how many of these households are armed?"
"That doesn't justify this," Steve said. "This stunt could ruin her life. People talk. She's still just a kid."
"We've told the neighbors it's a chemical leak," McKinley replied. "They're staying indoors. Besides, her life already changed the moment her gene activated."
Steve clenched his jaw but didn't argue further. McKinley glanced down at the suitcase he carried.
"That the device?" she asked.
"Better than your prisoner armband," Hal cut in sharply.
McKinley gave him a sideways glance. "What the Department of Science and Engineering designs isn't my call, kid. So save the sarcasm."
"You're still in the agency," Hal said. "Even if you know exactly what they've done."
"Enough," Steve murmured before it escalated.
He turned, his gaze landing on a couple sitting near the edge of the tent. The man had his head in his hands. The woman clutched a coffee cup with trembling fingers. They looked up as Steve approached.
"Those the parents?" he asked quietly.
McKinley nodded. "Been waiting for hours. You should speak with them."
Steve gave a quiet hum and gestured for Hal to follow. As they approached, the father stood, straightening his shoulders despite the exhaustion in his eyes.
"Captain," he greeted, offering a hand. "It's… an honor. Though I wish it were under better circumstances."
"We're here to help your daughter," Steve said, shaking the man's hand and setting the suitcase on a nearby table. He opened it to reveal a sleek injector and a compact control unit. "This should stabilize her powers."
The mother leaned forward, worry written across her face. "But how are you going to get close? No one's been able to even step inside since this started."
Steve glanced toward Hal. "That's why I brought him. This is Hal. He's…"
He trailed off, unsure how to frame it.
"I'm probably immune to her abilities," Hal said, stepping forward. "From what we've learned, her power manipulates emotion. And, well… I'm immune to that kind of stuff."
The father blinked. "At this point, I'm not even going to question it. Just—please—bring our daughter back to normal."
Hal's brow twitched slightly, but he didn't respond.
"We'll do our best," Steve said gently. "May we enter the house?"
The father gestured toward it. "Be my guest. The CIA already tore the place apart."
Steve nodded, then turned to Hal. "Go in, see if you can reach her. The injector works best around the neck, but anywhere should be fine."
He reached into his pocket and handed over a small earpiece.
"For communication. In case anything happens."
—
Hal stepped into the house alone, suitcase in hand. He closed the door behind him, casting one last glance at the distant figures outside—Steve, the girl's parents, and a few watching agents. All waiting.
His earpiece crackled to life.
[Hal, do you hear me?]
Steve's voice.
"Yeah," Hal replied simply.
[Good. Laurie's upstairs. First door on the right.]
"Got it."
He turned toward the staircase and began to climb. Halfway up, he heard it—soft, broken sobs echoing from the hallway above. The kind of sound that clutched at the heart.
As he reached the landing, a strange heaviness settled over him. His chest tightened. A lump formed in his throat.
Sadness?
He paused at the door, frowning. Was he being affected by her powers? That shouldn't be possible—not for him.
He waited, testing it. The emotion didn't worsen, but it didn't fade either. It lingered, low and sharp, like a forgotten wound.
[Hal? You there? I'm not hearing anything.]
"I'm here," Hal whispered. "Sorry. Just… processing."
[Is the power getting to you?]
"I don't know," Hal admitted. "But I'm going in."
[Hal, wait—]
But Hal had already turned the knob.
The door creaked open—and the moment it did, a wave of sorrow hit him like a physical blow.
He dropped to his knees.
A sob escaped him before he could even register it. Tears spilled down his cheeks unbidden, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.
It was like heartbreak stacked on heartbreak. Not his own—but hers. Grief, fear, loneliness, anger—all tangled in a storm of teenage despair. It swallowed him whole.
"W-What are you doing?" a fragile voice trembled from across the room. "I-It's not safe… I'm a freak…"
"You're not…" Hal choked out, the words barely coherent.
His mind scrambled to stay afloat, to think through the cloud of emotion. This shouldn't be happening. His powers were supposed to insulate him from this. Instead, he was drowning.
"G-Go back," she whimpered. "You'll just keep crying if you stay…"
Hal clenched his jaw and did the only thing he could think of—he summoned his willpower.
A soft green glow wrapped around him, forming a thin barrier of energy over his skin like a second layer of armor. Instantly, the wave of emotion dulled. He could breathe again.
He wiped his face and looked up.
The girl sat curled on her bed, still in her school clothes, eyes red and puffy. She flinched as he met her gaze.
"W-What are you…?" she stammered.
"Take a breath. I'm not here to hurt you," Hal said gently. "I'm… like you."
Her brow furrowed. "Like me? You make people feel sad and angry too?"
"Not quite," Hal offered a soft, tired smile. "I have powers. That's what I mean. I know you're scared, Laurie. But I can help."
He gestured to the suitcase, now beside him. He opened it.
Her eyes flicked to the device inside.
"W-What's that?"
"It's a stabilizer. Just a small injection. It won't hurt," Hal explained. "It'll quiet your powers. Your parents will be able to come near you again. You can go back to school without worrying you'll hurt someone."
Laurie's expression softened, but then she broke again—sobbing, clutching a pillow to her chest.
"W-What's the point?" she cried. "My life's already ruined… Everyone thinks I'm a freak. And now there are agents outside my house. People will think I killed someone."
"They won't," Hal said softly. "Laurie, look at me."
She hesitated, then did.
"I'm Hal. And I've been where you are. I know it feels like the world's crashing down. Changes are… overwhelming. They don't come with instructions. But they're not the end of your life."
She frowned. "You think this is cool or something?"
"No. Not like that," Hal said, his voice patient. "But maybe someday, it could be. Right now? It's terrifying. I get that."
"I ruined everything," she snapped. "People fought because I was angry. I finally got into the cheer team this year, and now it's probably over because of this."
"It's not the end of the world. It's just high school."
"That's easy for you to say." Her voice cracked. "School was my life. And now it's hell."
Hal went quiet. He didn't say anything, but a judgemental look can't be helped to slip up.
"I'm going to come closer now," he said gently. "I'm going to inject the device, okay?"
She hesitated. "Will it… scar?"
"I don't think so," he murmured. "And if you ever want your powers back, you can turn it off."
"Why would I want that?" she spat.
"In case you want to learn to control them. Use them."
"I don't. I hate them. Just get it over with."
Hal gave a small nod. He stepped forward, gently injected the device into the side of her neck, and activated it with a press of the remote.
"It's done," Hal said, stepping back. "Everyone should be able to come closer to you now."
Laurie wiped her eyes, still trembling.
"You know," Hal continued softly, "your powers aren't a curse. They're a part of you. And someday, they could be something more. Something good."
She shook her head. "Not everyone wants to be special. I just want a normal life. College. Love. A family. And now? This… this ruins that."
Hal said nothing. He looked down, staring at the carpet. The truth in her voice hit something in him, deep and quiet.
The door creaked open behind him.
Her parents rushed in, eyes brimming with tears. They fell to their knees beside her, embracing her tightly. She clung to them, sobbing again—but this time with relief.
Steve stood in the doorway, watching Hal with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Let's head out," he said quietly. "We've done what we came to do."
As Hal turned to leave, Laurie's father caught his eye.
"Thank you," the man mouthed.
Hal gave a faint smile, nodded once, and followed Steve and the agents out.
—
Back aboard the Quinjet, Hal sat silently, hunched over in one of the rear seats. His gaze was fixed on the metallic floor beneath him, unfocused. The low hum of the aircraft filled the space, but Hal heard none of it. He was somewhere else entirely.
Steve sat across from him, arms loosely folded, watching. He didn't speak right away, but the silence wasn't comfortable.
"I heard everything, you know," Steve finally said.
Hal didn't lift his head. "Heard what?"
"What you said to the girl," Steve replied. "Over the earpiece. You look confused now."
Hal exhaled slowly through his nose, then glanced at him.
"I'm not confused, exactly," he said. "It's more that I feel… privileged, I guess."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "Privileged how?"
"My powers don't interfere with my life. Not in any obvious way," Hal muttered. "I don't grow scales. I don't sprout wings or randomly phase through walls. If someone doesn't scan me with a gene detector, I pass for normal. Others? They probably don't get that luxury. Some wake up one day and can't hide what they've become."
Steve nodded slightly. "Like Laurie."
"Exactly," Hal said. "All this time, I thought of my powers as a gift, and everyone should like that too. But now? It's clear that that's not how it works for everyone. For some people, it's not a blessing. It's a burden. Maybe even a curse."
He leaned back in his seat, expression unreadable.
"A few months ago," he continued, "I would've told anyone who said that to shut up. That they should be grateful about these amazing abilities. Hell, I've said it before to someone. Thought they were just being dramatic. But now… I get it. I don't fully agree, not yet. But I understand where they're coming from."
Steve watched him carefully. "Why not agree?"
"Because the gene—this power—it's a part of who we are," Hal said quietly. "It's not something to just hate. But then again, Laurie…"
He trailed off, shaking his head.
"She's the most stereotypical teenage girl I've ever met, from what I've seen. All she cares about is where she fits in at school, who likes her, what people think. She's ready to throw away a part of herself just to stay 'normal.' Honestly… if she figured out how to control her powers, she could probably rule that school, become prom queen or whatever."
Steve's expression tightened. "That'd be manipulative. It's not right to use emotions like that."
"I know," Hal admitted. "And yeah, it is manipulative. But it's not mind control. Not really."
Steve raised a brow. "Then what is it?"
"I think it's biological," Hal said. "Like how some animals use pheromones to influence others. I don't think Laurie's powers are psychic in nature. If they were, I wouldn't be affected by them. I can absorb psionic energy. But pheromones? That's chemical. I can't absorb that."
Steve considered that. "I'll make a note for the records. Sounds like a plausible theory."
He paused, then added thoughtfully, "Some people care more about appearances than others. And some want nothing more than to be ordinary. It's not a flaw, or something to scoff at. It's just… different. We all want different things."
Hal let out a quiet sigh, leaning his head back against the wall. "Yeah. I guess."
"At least she has a goal," Steve said after a moment. "She knows what she wants—college, love, a quiet life. What about you?"
Hal didn't respond at first. The question hung in the air like a weight.
"Me?" he echoed, then went quiet again. His eyes drifted back to the floor.
"I want to be like you, Cap." he muttered.
Steve just chuckled. "Like me?"
Hal hummed. "But for my kind."
Steve looked at him. "You're separating yourself from humanity again."
Hal smiled. "Sorry."