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Yes.
George Stacy.
His future father-in-law.
Though in this timeline, George Stacy still looked somewhat green—clearly a rookie who had only recently joined the NYPD.
Hawk turned this over in his mind.
He remembered now. Gwen had once mentioned that when George first joined the force, he hadn't been assigned to the 21st Precinct. He'd started as a patrol officer at a precinct in Brooklyn.
As for the older officer beside him—the one who appeared to be his partner—that wasn't Ben Urich.
Ben Urich had been George's mentor and partner after he transferred to the Major Crimes Unit at the 21st.
This other cop...
Hawk had no recollection of him.
He stood to the side like an outsider, watching the weeping blonde woman. After hearing the full story, his gaze drifted to the secondhand stroller where his infant self and infant sister lay.
The reason for young George's visit was simple.
The blonde woman's husband was dead.
Three hours ago, his body had been found in an alley about three blocks away.
The woman wept as she asked a neighbor to watch her son and daughter, then left with the officers.
By the time she returned that evening, her eyes were swollen from crying. She clutched a shopping bag from the precinct.
The bag was bloodstained and crumpled.
Three cans of formula.
Two outfits—one for a boy, one for a girl.
Hawk stood silently, watching the woman pull each item from the bag. His brow furrowed slightly.
The next second.
Light and shadow reversed around him. Now he stood beneath a streetlamp, and not far away stood a building he knew well—St. Paul's Church, the orphanage that had taken in him and his sister.
The blonde woman pressed a deep kiss to his and his sister's foreheads, then placed them at the church doorstep. She knocked on the door and fled without looking back.
But she didn't truly leave. She hid in the shadow of a nearby building, watching until the church door opened. The priest looked around, found nothing, then carried both infants inside. Only then did the woman allow herself a shuddering breath of relief—grief etched across her face—before finally turning to go.
Hawk watched her figure grow smaller and smaller until she vanished from sight. With a thought, he raised his right hand. A single teardrop—the one that had fallen from her cheek the moment she turned away—materialized in his palm.
The tear glistened.
Hawk felt the emotion contained within it. He gazed in the direction the woman had gone, but his heart remained calm.
The same truth applied here as everywhere else.
Abandonment came down to two reasons.
Either you didn't want the child.
Or you couldn't afford to keep them.
But regardless of which it was, all of that was in the past now. Hawk had long since stopped caring.
So—
Hawk clenched his right fist, glanced at St. Paul's Church in the distance, drew a deep breath, and turned away.
He already knew what happened next.
He had no desire to relive it. Church foster care, community adoption—none of those memories were worth revisiting.
Especially the day his sister died in 2008.
He absolutely did not want to experience that again.
Therefore!
Time to get down to business.
Time must close the loop.
Hawk recalled the Ancient One's words. With a thought, when he next appeared, he found himself inside an ancient castle in Sokovia.
A HYDRA fortress.
"Push!"
"You've got this—almost there!"
"Keep going!"
"Ahh... Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!"
A female HYDRA operative carefully dried the newborn Jean, wrapped her in swaddling clothes, and handed her to Wanda—equally drenched in sweat on the bed.
Wanda looked exhausted, but her eyes shone with excitement and nervousness as she accepted the bundled infant.
Hawk watched Wanda lean back against the headboard. Despite her obvious weakness, she gazed at Jean with an indescribable expression—and in his mind, he saw the same look the blonde woman had given him after his own birth.
Time flowed onward.
In another room of the castle.
Pietro met Jean for the first time.
Fresh from one of Strucker's enhancement experiments, Pietro looked tired—but he still grinned as he played with the swaddled baby.
"So, Wanda—have you picked a name?"
"Mm-hmm."
Wanda sat on the couch, nursing Jean in her arms. She nodded at her brother's question, gazing down at her daughter.
"Jean."
"Jean?"
"It means 'God's grace.'"
"...Alright then."
Pietro accepted the explanation, studying the infant. He turned to Wanda.
"I figured you'd just hand the kid over to Strucker the moment she was born."
"She's my daughter."
"Maybe her existence was a mistake."
"But—"
"She's my daughter. My Jean."
Having just given birth, Wanda spoke with the radiant certainty of new motherhood. She met Pietro's eyes steadily, then returned her attention to the baby in her arms, smiling as she cooed at her.
Pietro watched his sister for a moment, then joined in the cooing.
Hawk observed from the sidelines like a spectator.
Later that night, when silence had fallen over the castle, he appeared soundlessly beside the crib. He gazed down at the sleeping infant within.
But the instant he materialized, Jean seemed to sense his presence. Her eyes opened—and as if she could actually see him, her chubby little face broke into a brilliant smile.
Originally, Hawk had only wanted a closer look at his daughter by blood.
But—
Seeing Jean's radiant smile the moment she noticed him, Hawk smiled too. His right hand reached through the present into the past, gently tapping her tiny nose.
"Hello, Jean."
As his words faded, a phantom fire phoenix flickered to life in Jean's wide, bright eyes.
As if sensing something wonderful, Jean kicked her arms and legs with delight.
The next second.
The light clicked on.
Wanda flipped the switch and approached the crib. Seeing Jean's animated state, she smiled softly, lifted the baby out, and cradled her close. She began humming a traditional Sokovian lullaby.
Jean was excited at first, but as Wanda's gentle song continued, she gradually settled down. One tiny hand clutched a lock of Wanda's hair. The other hand—reaching out past the edge of the crib—seemed to be gripping an invisible finger.
Hawk's finger.
He watched Jean clutching his hand. He watched Wanda lull Jean to sleep—only to drift off herself in the process. He couldn't help but smile.
By the time Wanda startled awake, morning had arrived.
Her first instinct was to check her arms—then immediately look toward the crib. Seeing Jean safe inside, she exhaled with relief.
But then she paused, confused. She glanced down at her empty arms again.
Standing beside the crib, Hawk watched Wanda's bewildered expression. A phrase drifted through his mind.
Pregnancy brain lasts three years.
Still—
Hawk only spared Wanda a glance before turning back to Jean. The baby's wide eyes seemed to track him directly. He smiled.
"See you next month."
For the infant Jean, a month was a month.
For Hawk, it was merely a blink.
He accelerated through time, ensuring he appeared during every month of Jean's early life.
Because Jean had told him he visited her every month.
Therefore!
Time must close the loop.
Soon.
When Hawk next materialized, another familiar face appeared.
Anna.
Long black hair.
Black leather outfit.
Yep.
Definitely Anna.
At this moment, Wanda was clutching Jean to her chest, backed into a corner, eyes wary.
"Don't take her."
"Relax. I won't hurt her."
"I promise."
Anna crouched down, her voice gentle, her gaze soft as she looked at the swaddled Jean. Then she turned to Wanda.
"But she has to leave this place. Otherwise, all of us—every single one—will die. Trust me. The Demon King's wrath isn't something any of us can survive."
Hawk stood silently to the side, listening to Anna's grave warning. He rubbed his nose unconsciously.
'Was he really that terrifying when he got angry?'
Nah.
He asked himself honestly.
Anna reached toward the bundled Jean.
But Wanda still refused.
A HYDRA operative, seeing the standoff, activated the nanobots inside Wanda's body. As Wanda let out a pained grunt, Anna caught Jean—then whirled on the operative, voice blazing with fury.
"What do you think you're—"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Before Anna could finish her rebuke, Jean—apparently sensing her mother had been hurt—erupted. A devastating wave of phoenix power exploded from the swaddled infant, instantly incinerating the five HYDRA operatives loyal to Strucker.
Turned them to ash where they stood.
As for Anna—
Despite being closest and taking the blast head-on, Anna wasn't reduced to ash. The phoenix force hurled her backward, slamming her into the wall before she crumpled to the floor in critical condition.
This wasn't because Anna had some special constitution.
It was because Hawk had intervened.
But just as Hawk instinctively assumed he'd protected his friend—the realization hit him.
Ah.
This finally answered a question that had nagged him ever since Anna had first told him her story.
Why had Anna—standing closest to the blast—survived at all?
So—
He had been the one to shield Anna. He had kept her from dying instantly. That was why she hadn't appeared in his Underworld until much later—and why he hadn't learned of Jean's existence until then.
Hawk processed this revelation.
At that moment, HYDRA reinforcements stormed in from outside, drawn by the commotion.
Strucker among them.
But the instant Strucker and his operatives burst through the door, their pupils contracted sharply.
Because—
They saw a fire phoenix.
Small. Almost miniature. But unmistakably a phoenix wreathed in flame. Its wings wrapped protectively around the swaddled Jean as it descended—gently, gracefully—into Wanda's trembling arms.
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