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One Week Later
Manhattan was rebuilding.
Stark Industries had announced a comprehensive repair initiative, funding reconstruction across the city. Damage Control, a new company formed specifically to deal with superhuman conflict aftermath, was hiring thousands. The economy was somehow booming.
Even tourism was up. People wanted to see where the Battle of New York had happened. Vendors sold t-shirts with Spider-Man's image, action figures of the Avengers, replica shields and hammers.
The world had stared into the abyss and decided to make merchandise about it.
But beneath the surface, complications festered.
The UN hearings had become a circus. Ambassadors pointed fingers in every direction. Some blamed the mutants. Others blamed the Norse Gods. A particularly foolish Pakistani diplomat tried to argue that Jay's imprisonment of Loki was illegal, that proper judicial procedures should have been followed.
He was shouted down within minutes by nearly every other nation present.
The legal matters proved even more complex. Over a thousand people had applied for death benefits. Their life insurance companies were obligated to pay out since they had technically died during the invasion. Some had been dead for seconds, and others for hours. The courts were drowning in paperwork.
Insurance companies were haemorrhaging billions and the ultra-rich who owned those companies were not pleased.
But no one dared speak out publicly. Jay's actions had spawned cults across the globe. In Southeast Asia especially, he was being hailed as a Dev-Avatar, a blessed instrument of the gods. Mass resurrections tended to do that.
The mutant image had shifted dramatically overnight. People couldn't distinguish between mutants and the newly awakened Inhumans and enhanced, so both groups benefited from the positive press. District X's defenders were being called heroes as the Morlocks were being interviewed on national television.
It was surreal.
And in the Baxter Building's medical wing, Jay's eyes finally opened.
The regeneration tank's fluid drained automatically, and the glass slid open. Jay took his first breath of unfiltered air in a week, coughing.
The cracks were gone. His skin was whole again, but he felt different. Changed on a fundamental level.
Darwin's adaptation had done its job and more. Healing from using Franklin's power had left marks. His cells were denser now, more resistant to cosmic radiation. His neural pathways had restructured themselves, creating new connections.
He was stronger than before. More durable. Better adapted to handle impossible power.
But he was also exhausted in a way sleep couldn't fix. He was tired, Soul-deep tired.
"Welcome back," Reed's voice came from nearby. "Try not to move too quickly. Your nervous system is still recalibrating."
Before Jay could respond, Domino was there. She grabbed him, pulled him into a hug fierce enough to crack normal ribs.
"You absolute idiot," she whispered into his shoulder. "You goddamn moron."
"Hey," Jay managed. "I'm okay. I'm more than okay, I'm..."
She punched him in the chest. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make her point.
"Why does it have to be you?" Tears streamed down her face. Her voice cracked. Her hands shook where they gripped his shoulders. "Why do you always have to be the one throwing yourself into the fire? There are other heroes, other people with power. Why you?"
Jay wrapped his arms around her properly. "You knew this was going to happen. Franklin's power was just another surprise, but the war..."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it!" Her voice cracked. "Doesn't mean I want to watch you hurt yourself over and over. I don't... I can't..."
She couldn't finish. Just held onto him like he might vanish again.
Jay held her back, letting her cry. Sometimes there were no words needed and all you could do was be there.
Eventually, she pulled back, wiping her eyes roughly. "You're an asshole."
"I know."
"And you're not allowed to do that again."
"Can't promise that."
Reed cleared his throat awkwardly. Behind him, Sue held Franklin, the baby was awake and alert, bright blue eyes studying Jay with infant curiosity.
"How long was I out?" Jay's voice was still rough.
"Seven days. You've been in a healing coma while your body repaired catastrophic cellular damage." Reed's clinical tone couldn't hide his relief. "The prognosis was uncertain until this morning when your vitals finally stabilized."
"How's Franklin?"
"Perfect," Sue said softly, moving closer. "Completely normal, happy and healthy. The power restraints are holding perfectly."
She held the baby out. Jay took Franklin carefully, supporting the tiny head.
Franklin gurgled happily, reaching up with one tiny fist. His hand wrapped around Jay's finger, grip surprisingly strong for an infant.
"You brought them back," Reed said quietly. "The invasion casualties. We saw it happen. People who'd died just... woke up. Thousands of them. That was all you right?"
"Couldn't let them die," Jay said simply. "Not when I could do something about it."
Sue's eyes glistened. "When he's older, when the power starts manifesting... you'll help him?"
"Of course." Jay looked down at Franklin, who was trying to stuff Jay's finger in his mouth. "When he's ready, I'll be there. Nobody should face power like that alone."
"Thank you." Sue's voice was barely a whisper. "For everything."
Through the window, Manhattan stretched out below them. Damaged but healing, changed but enduring. A city that had faced the impossible and survived.
The world was different now. Thousands of new heroes had awakened. The age of hiding, of pretending enhanced individuals didn't exist, was over.
For better or worse, everything had changed.
The new Age of Marvels has begun.
And as Jay held his godson, feeling the baby's heartbeat against his chest, he wondered what kind of world Franklin would inherit when he finally came into his power.
But for now, there was one more pressing concern.
"Reed," Jay said seriously. "I'm starving. What's the food situation looking like?"
Reed blinked. Then laughed, the tension breaking completely. "I'll have HERBIE prepare something. What sounds good?"
"Everything. I want everything."
And for the first time in a week, the Baxter Building felt like home again.
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