Hope felt warm. Granted, it was San Francisco in the middle of August, but that wasn't it. Since her mom disappeared, she'd been cold. A cold that settled in her bones and led to her giving up all hope of ever being comfortably warm again. But since they defeated Cross (since she'd met Scott) she'd gradually felt a little less frigid, less like she'd been left in the snow too long. It was like she'd been frozen, and just now she was beginning to thaw.

Part of it, she told herself, was the repair of her relationship with her father. More than that was the hope of seeing her mother again. But most of all, she knew, was the light that was Scott Lang. He was the sunniest person she'd ever known. While she was a morning person, and her father a night owl, Scott was on all day long. He was also light-hearted and fun, bringing her out of the broody moods she tended to find herself in. She found herself letting her hair grow longer, becoming less severe. She'd hidden behind that cold, emotionless, all-business exterior for far too long. With Scott around, she noticed herself smiling, genuinely, which she hadn't done in she didn't know how long.

He was good for her dad too. The other day, she'd actually heard him laugh, something deep from inside his chest that she knew she hadn't heard since before her mom's disappearance. Once, when Scott had to bring Cassie with him for a few hours, Hank actually talked to the girl and made her laugh. Hank didn't like children, didn't seem to know what to do with them, but got along with Cassie like no other. And Cassie, she was just a miniature version of her father, a goofy grin plastered across her face more often than not, with a laugh that was purely infectious. Like her father, Hope wasn't good with kids. She had always been so uninviting to them and wasn't sure how to treat them, but she loved the moments she was able to spend with Cassie. Watching her with Scott thawed her bones just a little more every time, and was starting to work on her heart too.

But Scott. He was thawing her at a rate that was alarming. She'd been so icy for so long that she was afraid that warming up so quickly was going to burst something within her. Like glass that shattered when heated too quickly, she was afraid that soon she would end up in a million pieces on the floor and everyone would just step around her. And then she'd never be whole again. But, god, did he feel good. He was easy on the eyes, even easier on the soul. His kisses warmed her body the whole way through, like drinking hot chocolate after a day in the snow. His arms around her kept her warm throughout the night, despite the fact that every night before, she'd been so cold she'd wake herself up to find herself shivering no matter the temperature in the room. Whenever she was in his arms, she slept so soundly, never waking to nightmares or anxiety about what was to come.

So she continued this thing she found herself in with Scott. Neither one of them really called it a relationship, though she was certain they both knew that's what it was. She was reluctant to label it, since that's always where things started to go wrong for her in the past. She suspected he wouldn't name it out of fear of scaring her off. Either way, as the summer went on, Hope felt herself continuing to thaw, moving from a comfortable warmth to a state of heat. Every time she was with him, she felt the poke of white-hot fire, first starting in her chest, then moving down. And she welcomed it.

Then she woke up one morning to find him gone. Disappeared. Just like her mother. And suddenly, the glorious warmth she'd felt for the last few months vanished, much like Scott, and the familiar cold swiftly took its place. She tried everything to warm herself again. Baths, drinking hot tea, sleeping in his sweatshirt under her large duvet, turning on the heat instead of her A/C. Nothing helped. Finally, she gave up trying and let the cold persist. What was it that insipid movie that Cassie always played said? The cold never bothered her anyway? Sure, she'll go with that.

Even after he returned home, suit intact and bragging about how large he'd gotten, the cold prevailed. She kept her distance, awaiting an apology that never came. And then she found out that what he'd done was illegal against international sanctions and would be on house arrest for two years. Worse still, he had to destroy the suit and wasn't to contact anyone associated with it, leaving she and Hank completely out in the cold. And on the run, seeing as how their tech was also illegal. In the blink of an eye, her cautiously constructed life fell to pieces. She felt like Alice, falling down the rabbit hole, just waiting to hit the ground.

As Scott was abruptly cut out of her life, she could tell she was reverting back to the cold shell of a person she'd been for so long. She now lived in a cold, bare room in the portable lab her father had created. She spoke to no one but her father and suppliers for their new project. She worked late into the night and was up for a pre-dawn training session every morning. She would work herself into a state of such exhaustion that her body had no choice but to collapse into bed every night, but that didn't stop the dreams. Some nights, they were of her mother, never having been lost to the quantum realm. Other nights, they were of her father bleeding out after being shot by Cross, not getting saved in time. But most nights, Scott was the star of her dreams.
Sometimes good, sometimes bad, always Scott. One night, he'd gone sub-atomic and wasn't able to come back, suffering the same fate as her mother. Another night, he'd been killed while helping the Avengers on a classified mission, and she'd never found out exactly what had happened. Then it was a car accident, leaving her to listen to Cassie's screams at his funeral while Maggie tried but failed to console her.

The worst one, though, was the happy dream. This one recurred, typically a few nights a week. It was always the same scene, one of domestic bliss, something she thought herself incapable of having. Scott is in the kitchen of their house, covered in flour, making the largest stack of chocolate chip pancakes known to man. Cassie is sitting on a barstool, a few years older than she was now, happily chatting away with her dad as he shows off his flipping skills. Hope is leaning against the counter, a mug of hot tea in her hands, laughing at Scott when one of his flip attempts ends with a pancake on the floor. She notices the ring on her finger and the slight curve of her stomach, explaining the tea in place of coffee. In this dream, she is always warm, and more content than she knows she's ever been. On the nights that are really bad, the doorbell rings in the dream and her parents are at the door. Parents. Plural. Her mother looks older than she remembers, but still beautiful. Her dad has a smile on his face that has been missing since her mother disappeared. Cassie runs to greet them with a hug and Scott comes up behind her, dirtying her shirt with flour handprints and giving her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He leans in close to her ear and whispers Do you know how much I love you? before turning her around and kissing her properly. His hands come up to bracket her stomach, leaving dusty white handprints surrounding their unborn child. She smiles into the kiss as her back hits the counter. Suddenly her father is clearing his throat, leading them to jump apart like teenagers. Cassie and Janet laugh and Hank gives them a disapproving frown before Janet elbows him and his countenance lightens. Scott gives her one more kiss for good measure before returning to his post at the stove.

And then she wakes up. The warmth is always gone and she can't help but ache for what she fears she'll never have. She doesn't think it should be possible to miss something so much that never even existed. But she does, and it's the only thing she's feeling through the numb of the cold that has settled once again in her bones. She turns over and promises herself that she will never let her heart thaw again.

Hope was cold. Despite living in San Francisco, she feels every bit of a winter chill in her empty, sterile room in the portable lab. Her father had noticed her change in personality and decorated the lab with Christmas lights and a tree, but it hadn't made a difference. Her days were spent working in solitude in the lab, save for when her father requests her help on a project. Workouts were done alone, meals eaten alone. Her bed waited for her, perpetually empty. She was really, truly alone.

The dreams still plagued her sleep nightly. Scott was the only common factor between them all, locations and events and people varying. Somewhere around Halloween, the nightmares had faded out (it had nothing to do with the camera she'd placed across the street from his apartment to monitor his activity). Every night now held dreams of a happy life with Scott and Cassie and children with her eyes and his smile. Hope preferred the nightmares.

Tonight, they're too much. Maybe it's the combination of the holidays and the permanent chill in her bones and the frustration about the project and her impending birthday and the fear that she'll never find happiness, but she can't handle the emptiness of her room any longer. She slips through the halls of the lab, grabs her suit, and heads out the door.

She shrinks down as soon as she's outside, revelling in the fresh air against her cheeks, ignoring the bite of cold where her skin is stained with tears. She finds herself soaring across town, taking in all of the familiar noises of the city. Once she reaches his neighborhood, she starts to doubt whether it's a good idea to see him, but continues on her journey to his apartment. She lands on a windowsill, knowing from her monitoring that he sleeps with his second floor windows open. Peering in, she sees him asleep, tangled in the sheets as he usually is. His face is peaceful and she's jealous, having not had a restful night of sleep in months because of his constant presence in her dreams.

She sits down, leaning against the window. Thinking she's content to watch him for just a few minutes, she lets her mind wander as her gaze stays fixed on him. Before she knows it, her eyes are fluttering shut and her mind is slipping into that state that exists somewhere between sleep and consciousness. She thinks she will close her eyes for just a moment, and then leave. Her eyes finally shut, but she does not wake until morning.

When she does wake, it's to a shiver and the shine of the rising sun in her face. She realizes she's slept there all night, but also that she didn't wake once. Just being this close to him quieted her mind enough that she felt rested for the first time in months. She feels at peace when she's in his orbit and it frustrates her. She's never been the kind of woman to need a man to feel validated. Every other man in her life has come and gone with little consequence, including her father, to some extent. What makes Scott Lang so special?

She startles when she hears the rustling of his sheets. Looking over, she notices Scott beginning to wake. She's not ready to see him face-to-face, so she flees, flies home to sneak into the lab before her father notices her absence.

She does it again that night.

It becomes a habit, the beginning of an addiction. Hope sneaks out every night after checking that her father is asleep, feeling like a teenager again. She's not entirely sure why she's being so secretive about her visits. It's not like she's doing anything wrong. But something about the secrecy of her trips feels good, feels vibrant. It gives her something to look forward to after every long day in the lab. She has a routine: sneak out half an hour after her father retires to his room, fly across town to Scott's, watch him go through his nightly routine, sleep perched up against the windowsill until she's woken up by the sun, watch him go through his morning routine, and fly home before her father notices her absence. It's the perfect system, until it isn't.

The first part of the night follows its normal schedule, when Hope finds herself dozing against the wooden frame of the window. She can smell the rain coming but isn't too worried about it. Her suit will be fine in the rain, and she's not expecting it to get cold enough to warrant the need for an additional cover. She allows herself to drift off into a dreamless sleep, with Scott's presence chasing away all unwanted images behind her eyes.

She wakes with a start when a clap of thunder is so intense that it actually shakes her awake. What she doesn't realize is that the thunder has woken Scott too. He's out of bed and at the window before she can comprehend what's happening. He moves to close the window until he notices the glint of the streetlights off her suit. She's trying to flee, but he grabs her before she can make her escape. He traps her in one hand and closes the window with the other, not bothering to latch it before he's dropping her on his bed and demanding that she return herself to full size. He's a little hostile and she's annoyed until she realizes that he has no idea that she has a functioning suit, let alone what it looks like. She wordlessly obeys his command, bringing herself back up to normal size and removes her helmet, waiting for him to make the first comment. He stares at her, confounded by the identity of the lurker he'd found on perched on his windowsill. She stays silent, searching his eyes for the emotions she used to be able to read so easily.

"Hope, what's wrong? Why are you here? In a suit?" His tone is concerned and confused. These are the first words she's heard him say in months and his voice alone nearly brings her to tears. Getting no response from her, he brings his hands up to her face, one detouring into her longer hair. "Hope, is something going on? Let me help you."

She backs away from him, overwhelmed by the emotions that are drowning her all at once. She stands there silently for a minute, until there are tears streaming down her face in mourning for the future she could've had, for the pain she'd felt for the last months, for the fear that she'd never be able to keep anyone good in her life. She panics, trying to make a getaway before he can reach her, but she stumbles over something on his floor in her haste. She falls, but he's wrapping an arm around her waist before she can hit the ground. Instantly, she's pushing him away, tears now coming faster, sobs starting to break from her throat.

"Hope? What happened?" He sounds genuinely concerned, but she doesn't appreciate it. He's hurt her too much to care for her. And slowly, she composed herself, sorrow turning to rage. She looks up at him, worry etched on his face. She slaps him. Hard.

"What happened? You left! You stole the suit and left everyone behind so you could play with the big kids. You didn't say a damn thing to anyone! You could have been seriously hurt and none of us would have had any idea. And then you come strutting back home, proud of yourself for doing something incredibly illegal, something that earned you two years of being a prisoner inside your own home. And the icing on the cake is that you took us down with you! Did you even think about the consequences for us? We had to give up our home, our lab, my job, our lives. We didn't even get a say in the matter!" She's furious, yelling now, letting months of suppressed rage bubble up to the surface.

"My life was gone in one fell swoop, Scott. We have been on the run for months, living in a portable lab! I can't go anywhere. I can't see anyone. I can't do anything, and all I can think about is you! Everything's gone and all I can see is what we could have had! I can't sleep because you're in my dreams, and I can't work because you're in my head, and I'm exhausted. All I want is to go back to the summer when things were good and I still had a future. But instead, I'm stuck in my own personal hell, torturing myself with maybes and what-ifs and it's killing me, Scott!"

He looks ashamed and confused and a little something else that she can't quite name, but there's no words accompanying the display on his face. She's had enough and turns on her heel to leave, this time heading putting on her helmet so she can fly out. Running isn't fleeting enough.

He grabs her elbow before she can make her getaway, stopping her before she can cross the threshold of what she used to consider their bedroom. In a move that was undoubtedly Scott's style, he hauls her in for a bone-crushing hug, helmet and all. He whispers his apologies in her ear until she's a sobbing mess in his arms and he's pulling away to remove her helmet. With her helmet discarded on the bed, he places a finger under her chin, lifting it so he can properly look her in the eye for the first time that night. For the first time in months.

"I messed up, Hope. I was trying to protect you and Cassie and everyone else. You're right. I didn't stop to think about the consequences because all I could think about was the consequences if I didn't help and things got out of hand. What that would've meant for all of you. But I should have told you about it, and I should have asked if you wanted to come. I know that now. I'm so sorry, Hope. For so long now, I've been on my own. I'm not used to having a reliable partner, but I found one in you. And I'm so grateful for everything that we had. And everything that we can still have, if you'll let me make it up to you."

His voice is soft and gentle, sorrow and loneliness lacing his words. He's meant everything that he says, and his eyes are more hopeful than she thinks she's ever seen. Her body is still pressed so completely up against his and she can feel his heart starting to race, the way his breath has stopped and seems to be waiting for her answer before it returns.

"It's not that easy, Scott. You can't just apologize and dangle the possibility of something happening in the future and expect me to forgive you for everything!"

"I know. I'm not expecting that. But let me try. Let me try to make it up to you and see where things go. I know there are conversations we need to have, but just let me give you a home tonight. It's the least that I can do. Please, Hope."

Against her better judgment, she nods her head in agreement to his offer. She's so tired and even one night in the house that feels like the closest thing she's had to a home in years is too tempting for her to turn down. At her response, he pulls her in for another hug, placing a faint kiss to her hair before letting her go.

"I'll sleep in Cassie's bed. You can take some of my clothes if you want to change out of the suit." He's halfway down the hall before the battle between her head and her heart is decided and she calls after him.

"Scott!"

His body turns back to her, brows knitted in an adorable show of confusion.

"You don't have to do that. Stay, with me." He looks hesitant. "Please?"

His face lights up, hopeful and relieved and simply happy. She can't suppress the smile that dances across her face. When he's within reach, she grabs for him and hugs him like her life depends on it, tight and strong and affirming everything that she isn't quite ready to verbalize. As she changes into his boxers and oversized Metallica t-shirt, his smell surrounds her and it feels warm, like home. And when she crawls into bed beside him and watches the storm now raging outside the window, she feels the ice in her veins just starting to thaw.

The next morning, she wakes up to a warm bed and an even warmer heart. She thinks to herself that maybe they will make it.

They do.