Chapter Text

Since both of them decide to be sensible, Hallie and Norbert end up drinking juice. Coffee or coke would keep them awake, though Norbert has to wonder wryly if it’d be so much of a change. It’s not like he wanted to sleep before. Still, perhaps talking will help?

He tries to gather his thoughts. But it’s hard. It’s so hard to think about all of it—even his mind balks at understanding what had happened to him. His memories are jumbled and fragmentary, like a kaleidoscope. Try as he might he can’t make sense of them.

There’s the time-traveling he did with… Moonstone appears in his memories, dressed like she’s visiting the court of King Arthur. There is a dark-haired woman in a Victorian dress, and some more flashes. And finally there’s the smell of burnt flesh and darkness, until he wakes up in SHIELD prison, paralysed from the neck down, his techpac torn away.

He’d assumed they did something to him there. It’s the logical explanation.

Hallie looks expectant but doesn’t pester him.

“My memories are missing,” he says eventually. “I know I was time-travelling with Moonstone and some other people, but I don’t remember why or where. And then, there’s a hole, and I wake up in prison.” Which doesn’t explain why he is not sleeping, so he adds: “I have nightmares, of the stuff I don’t remember… But that isn’t why I prefer staying awake.”

Hallie reaches out to put her hand on his. “It’s OK. You can tell me—I won’t think less of you.”

He can’t help but smile at her, though he’s certain it comes out rather pathetic. “I’m afraid that when I wake up again, I’ll be trapped again, days, or years or months since I went to sleep.”

She nods. “Do you know how you ended up in prison?”

Norbert shakes his head. “No. I don’t know if I want to know, to be honest. I also don’t know how I returned from the timestream, either.”

“Maybe it was the same thing that brought me back?” she wonders. “We used my powers to make me punch through the realities, but for the longest time it didn’t work. And then suddenly… I was through.”

Norbert nods. “It’s a pity I didn’t think to ask you sooner. Then we could have taken some readings. If it’s the same things, we’d likely be able to find traces of exotic particles.”

Now that it’s a scientific problem, he finds it easier to think about it. It’s an unsolvable one at the moment, but that doesn’t mean it has to remain one…

“Sure, we can do that,” Hallie says with a smile. “Maybe if we find out how, then you will feel safer?” Then she wags her finger jokingly at him. “But I want you rested for that. I’m not letting you fiddle with my particles while you’re falling on your nose.”

That’s probably wise. He doesn’t really feel up to any difficult computations now. He nods.

Hallie gets up and puts her arm around his shoulder. “I’ll watch out so nobody steals you?” she suggests with a smile so it doesn’t sound so patronising.

Norbert smiles back. “I can manage. But thanks. I appreciate it.”

The first thing Mar-Vell registers when he wakes up is Carol's hand stroking his cheek. For a moment, he just lies still, enjoying the sensation. Then he opens his eyes and sees her resting her head on her elbow and grinning at him.

He smiles back and reaches up to mirror her gesture. Carol is still grinning, as she leans down and kisses him. Mar-Vell pulls her as close as he can and wraps his arms around her tightly. But like yesterday, that is not nearly enough for either of them.

Eventually, they part.

“I love you,” Carol says, a slight flush colouring her cheeks.

“You might have mentioned that yesterday,” Mar-Vell replies. The urge to touch is still irresistible (and to be fair, he has no particular intention of resisting), so he starts brushing his fingers lazily against her back.

Carol gives him an amused look, gently touches the tip of his nose and asks, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Badly,” he says, and shakes his head. “You will have to bear with that occasionally.”

“I like your bad flirting. Besides, I'm awesome enough to make up for that,” Carol replies without missing a beat.

That makes him grin. “I am not going to argue with you about that.”

Carol grins back. “You'd better not,” she says. “I'd be worried, if you did.” She leans closer and kisses his cheek. “For maybe five seconds.”

Mar-Vell chuckles, and then falls silent, when he feels Moondragon's thoughts brush against his mind. It's the lightest touch, but it still makes him want to snarl and lash out, and he barely manages not to jump.

He focuses as hard as he can on blocking almost everything—there is a number of things he will not share, and he definitely isn't going to let Heather Douglas see Carol naked through his eyes.

“Mar-Vell? What's wrong?” Carol asks, probably noticing the tension that grips him.

+We found Eros,+ Heather sends at the same time. +The Kree were rather over-enthusiastic. We will not be meeting you in a while. Don’t wait for us.+

“Moondragon,” he explains, “She's telling me they have Eros and that they won’t meet us.” Then, he adds, “That’s not what we planned.” Considering what Carol told him, cosmic awareness is unnecessary to know something is really wrong. “Pama, I hate this.” He grits his teeth, fighting the urge to scream and run.

Carol sits up and pulls him with her. He presses his forehead to her shoulder, as she runs her hand through his hair and then down his neck. It helps him bear the mental intrusion for now.

“There must be something wrong,” Carol says tensely. “This was too easy so far.” The way she holds him speaks volumes about her own anxieties.

+And now tell me the whole truth,+ he urges Moondragon.

+Truth is a four letter word.+ Moondragon is blocking him about as hard as he is blocking her. None of her emotions slip by for him to pick up. +Don’t even think of coming here. There is no way you can help. Take your son, take your girlfriend and go home.+

Mar-Vell nearly tells Moondragon that 'truth' has five letters but realises she wouldn't make that kind of mistake—it's clearly a phrase.

“What does 'truth is a four letter word' mean?” he asks Carol instead.

“A four letter word is an expletive,” Carol replies, her tone dry. “Don’t tell me she wants to be noble.”

“She’s telling me to leave them,” Mar-Vell says, trying very hard to keep at least some of his mounting trepidation from showing. Now he's not just coiled up like a spring, he's also starting to have a headache. His answer to Moondragon is sharp, probably unnecessarily so. +Phyla is my daughter, and if you think I will let another of my children suffer, you are deluding yourself. What happened?+

+They were never after Eros. They are after you. When he couldn’t give them your location, they made him their bait. You didn’t bite, which is your good luck. We are evading them, so do yourself a favour and don’t walk into the trap.+

“The Kree were after me.” Mar-Vell tastes blood from a bitten lip. “And they were trying to use Eros as bait.”

Carol curses. “I knew it. I knew it.” She lets out a deep breath. “OK, how bad is it?”

+You are not going to make me abandon my child!+ Mar-vell puts all his determination in his mental voice.

Moondragon hesitates and then sends, +You know that endangering you is the last thing Phy will want. She already has enough on her conscience. We will be fine.+

He isn’t a telepath, but she is leaking enough worry for him to realise she is lying. She doesn’t actually see a way they are getting out of it. So, he abandons his usual restraint and looks for them, using his cosmic awareness.

It’s easy to find Heather and the others on Equivox. Just as easy to realise why she did not want him to see them. They are literally stuck in a hole in the ground, damp and dark, with minimal supplies and a chemical light that will run out in a few hours.

He sees Phyla, fortunately unhurt but tired, confused and almost frantic with worry. His daughter is cradling a broken Eros in her arms. The Eternal is unconscious and even without the cosmic awareness showing Mar-vell all the breaks in Eros’s skull, the torn ligaments in his shoulders, the shattered right hand, broken ribs and internal bleeding, the Kree has been on enough battlefields to realise someone hurt this badly might not last the night.

With the enhanced perception of Cosmic Awareness he can also see where Moondragon blocked Eros’s nerves, to keep him from suffering needlessly, which show as bright red marks all over his body. For a moment, Mar-Vell wonders why Eros is not healing, since Eternals are normally nearly indestructible and capable regenerating even lost limbs. That’s when he notices that in addition to those injuries, Eros is also completely exhausted, on the verge of starvation und out of the cosmic energy that more than anything mundane sustains his kind. And all this was done to the Eternal just to get Mar-Vell himself.

“Pama,” he curses. +I hate it when you have the right idea about me.+

+What?+ Heather’s response so utterly nonplussed it would be almost comical.

+Take care of Phyla. Keep her safe.+

With Moondragon still distracted and confused, he manages to throw her out of his brain.

And then, he proves to Carol that Kree military cursing is at least as inventive as the American version.

Chapter Text

“Why can things never go smoothly?” Carol sighs. Which is about as helpful as wishing for universal peace, but she doesn't have any better ideas yet. “So, what are we dealing with?”

“That the Empire knows that I'm alive,” Mar-Vell replies. He is sitting cross-legged, and appears superficially calm, but when she touches his back, she can feel the tension in his muscles. “And that they were planning to lure me into a trap, and now if things go wrong, they will have Phyla and Moondragon. And that Eros is dying.”

Carol drums her fingers against her thigh, as she thinks. “Okay. They will be prepared for you, when you were wearing negabands. From what I was told, Phyla is more or less the same level of threat. She has Moondragon with her, which gives them some advantage, but whatever they do, one of them will have to protect Starfox.”

“We could try to extract them,” Mar-Vell says.

Carol consults Harrison’s star charts. “It’s not far. We can get there in a few hours.”

That’s when Mar-Vell tenses again, and through clenched teeth, grates, “Moondragon. Again.”

She takes his hand. “Did she change her mind?”

His grip is almost painful, despite her resilience. “They are making a break for it. Eros has fallen into a coma and they can’t wait any longer.”

Carol frowns. “Well, fuck. We won't get there in time to be useful—we can wait for them here and prepare to mount a rescue if they get caught.”

Mar-Vell sighs and starts to massage the bridge of his nose. “At least we can figure out how to hide Rick.”

“We need to tell the Thunderbolts about this new snatch,” Carol says after a moment.

“Now might be the time to tell me who exactly they are and what they can do,” Mar-Vell says. Carol gives him the cliff notes—there’s really no point in going into their colourful pasts right now.

“The Moonstone?” Mar-Vell asks, once they get to Karla Sofen. “I’m surprised no one has shown up to take it from her.”

Carol shrugs. “Now that you mentioned it, it is odd. Perhaps the Supreme Intelligence thinks that it’s too much of a bother to get it from her and waiting for her to die or get killed off is better?”

Which sounds quite plausible. The ruler of the Kree Empire has been known to take the long view on many occasions—often even when it would make their decisions seem nonsensical at the given time. A human’s lifespan is likely just a moment for them.

“They might change their mind, if she appears near someone who can shut down the Moonstone,” he says thoughtfully.

“That’s possible?” Carol asks.

“It’s… I’m simplifying but it’s a battery and a computer in one,” Mar-Vell replies. “It can be powered down or reset, and someone with a high enough clearance should be able to find out how. It’s likely also that a Universal Weapon can do that too.”

“You don’t happen to know that, do you?” Carol starts to find those possibilities very entertaining. Next time Moonstone decides to feel like bitching, exploiting this would probably be an unholy temptation. So, she isn’t really sad, when Mar-Vell shakes his head.

“No, my clearance was never high enough.”

“Pity.” 

The Thunderbolts are likely to make a difference, given that the members are all experienced combatants. While they still have no real idea what they are going up against, Mar-vell doesn't think this is Ronan's doing. Convoluted subtleties like this are not his style. And everything else, they ought to be able to handle, he and Carol agree.

“I think the Kree have forgotten who saved their sorry asses from the Builders,” she growls, all fired up. “If they want a war, they get one. Starfox is an Avenger. As are you. Using one Avenger to get to another is frowned upon. And needs to be met with the appropriate response.”

As attractive as the view is, the time for battle has not yet arrived, and now they need to be patient. So, he fishes for a topic to distract her and latches onto something she just said: “Why are you calling him Starfox?”

“Well... He joined the Avengers for a time after you died,” Carol says and looks almost sheepish. “And the American President at the time thought Eros was too provocative a name for an Avenger.”

“But it's his name,” Mar-vell says, incredulous. “It’s one thing to pronounce my name as ‘marvel’ because that is what you hear when I say it… Eros is his name.” He’s repeating himself, he notices.

“Yes, and it's also where the word erotic comes from,” Carol points out, “because it's also the name of the Greek god of love.”

Suddenly, their discussion of Melissa and her past comes to his mind. Clearly, this is something people on Earth would not like to be reminded of. Not only do they have a problem with it, they also look down on everyone who does not.

“I think I see,” Mar-vell says after a moment. “And since he has a fox on his shirt and is an alien that would be as good as anything.”

Carol shrugs. “I don't know, I wasn't there. We never were in the Avengers at the same time. Just met a few times when they had a call for all former members to assemble. I think I exchanged like, three sentences with him, if that.”

Mar-vell wants to congratulate her on her luck, but it seems callous now that the man is dying. Because of him. Because Eros wouldn’t give him away. He sighs. Back three minutes and already he is starting to feel so tired again. But this time, something is different. He isn’t alone. He’s grateful for Carol’s presence, who wraps her arms around him. “Everything will be OK. We’ll save them. It’s what we do.” 

“So, wanna bet we'll be nose-deep in trouble?” Rick asks Una, and belatedly remembers that betting is one of the few forms of entertainment Kree don't disdain Empire-wide.

Una rolls her eyes. “You know, not all Kree gamble.”

Which is something a relief, because he doesn't relish the idea of having her bitch at him for winning the bet. “It's a phrase. I was trying to draw your attention to the fact that there's a large concentration of trouble magnets on this ship, and so far, everything's going smoothly.”

Una snorts. “Your definition of smoothly is very different from mine. But I suppose given that you live on a planet that is invaded by Galactus, Skrulls and Brood every week, I can see why you'd have a skewed view of things.”

Now it's Rick's turn to roll his eyes. “You're acting as if the Kree weren't participating.”

“I think it's the race-wide addiction to gambling,” Una says after a moment. “Half the minds of the Supreme Intelligence must have made a bet with the other half on which attempt they will conquer Earth.”

Rick sighs and does not tell her how scarily probable that sounds to him. By now, he's ready to believe in anything, including the Tooth Fairy—a tiny lady with wings who pays children for their teeth is not nearly as outlandish as a huge guy in a purple hat, who eats planets.

“Isn't that blasphemy for you?” he asks instead. “I mean most Kree worship the gi- I mean the Supreme Intelligence.”

Una shrugs. “Not all, though. You ought to know, since you're such great friends with Mar-Vell.”

“I know that you don’t, “ Rick says, “and for the rest, that’s Mar-Vell’s business.”

Una huffs. “It's not like I'm interested.”

Which seems to be the end of their conversation, but just as Rick considers switching the subject, Melissa and Genis walk in, holding hands. They only stop once it becomes clear that one needs both hands to handle preparing breakfast. It’s a bit surreal watching them, given that Rick has a certain image of both Genis and Marv in his head, and it appears that they have currently swapped places. Parts of the conversation between Carol Danvers and Marv he caught last night when following a human urge where definitely TMI.

And while Genis isn't suddenly acting like he has no idea what to do with a girl, he and Melissa are more puppies in a basket cuddly than teenagers who just discovered sex cuddly.

“I miss Marlo,” Rick announces. Not that he and Marlo ever were like that.

Or that Genis has any reason to roll his eyes, for the matter.

“I feel excluded,” Una sighs theatrically.

“Hey, maybe Melissa can set you up on a date with one of the Thunderbolts?” Rick suggests in a fit of good will. He doesn’t recall any media gossip about Fixer, Atlas or MACH, so they probably are available. And Una is unlikely to devour them for breakfast, bones and all, anymore.

Naturally, Una looks unimpressed. So, does Melissa.

“Hey, just trying to help,” he says. Fortunately for him, Genis picks this moment to open the fridge and pull out what appears to be the first thing he can grab. Which is a can of catfood, apparently.

“You know that is a dead animal in a tin?” Una asks, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Yes. But I don’t mind.” Genis shrugs. “There is nothing so weird some species won't eat it.”

Melissa taps his arm. “But she minds,” she says, pointing to Chewie, who is looking at the tin is his hand with barely concealed expectation.

Arguing with cats is apparently futile, so Genis opens the tin and puts it on the floor. Then he accepts the bowl Melissa hands to him. “Cornflakes and orange juice.” He looks at Una, as if waiting for her approval, which seems to confuse her.

“Anyway,” Rick says, deciding to steer the subject towards things that will not end up turning into a lecture about Kree superiority, “I was just saying we're definitely in for some trouble.”

“Rick,” Genis says patiently, “just because you are here, it doesn't mean the Kree will start a war or something. Statistically speaking, they still have a year.” Then, as he picks up a spoon, he adds, “And they don't know you're here. They don't know I'm here. They don't know anyone is here.”

Rick looks at Melissa mournfully. “He does that occasionally. Lures you into a sense of security and suddenly goes all reasonable on you.”

Una laughs. “You are a very funny man, Rick Jones.”

Unfortunately, that is the point when Carol and Mar-vell enter, their faces grim.

Chapter Text

Mostly, the first gut reaction Genis has on hearing that the Kree have Eros, and that Phyla and Moondragon might also end up captured is to just go and blow up something. There is a part of him that insists that it’s somehow his fault, and another that thinks 'serves them right'. He tries very hard not to listen to it, but it's there, reminding him that nothing good has ever come from associating with the Titan side of his family.

He is just being... Just because someone at some point had made him feel stupid did not mean they should be allowed to die, and that is what matters.

It feels like walking on thin ice, just like in the dream, or back when he was looking for some way to save himself and could not. What's the point of a power that lets you see all and everything, if you are the only part you will never understand?

He nearly jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Genis?” Mar-Vell asks.

“I-it's nothing,” he says, but he knows the hesitation in his voice is telling something different.

His father pulls him into a hug. “It’s alright. Excuse us for a moment. Carol?”

Genis allows himself to be led out of the room, while Carol continues the briefing.

His father doesn't lead him anywhere far, but they are out of earshot of others, when they stop. Not there is all that much space to go on the ship.

Genis smiles sheepishly. “I can’t help it.” Somehow, every time his father gives him a hug, he turns it into a full body cling and doesn’t want to let go. Even now that he does not have to be afraid of waking, it’s hard. It’s like his body has a mind of its own and only can believe things when it can touch them. Maybe because touch is the one sense that is the hardest to fool.

But it seems his father understands, and merely motions for them to sit down – on Carol’s bed Genis just notices with major embarrassment - and puts his arm around Genis’s shoulders.

“It’s all happening so fast. I hoped to have more time before facing them all. And it actually is my fault”, Mar-Vell says, looking about as sheepish as Genis feels. “The Kree did not forget about me being resurrected. They were not ready to believe I was really dead and they probably thought Eros was coming for me.” He shakes his head. “So, now talking about our feelings is suddenly a luxury. And I am so sorry it turned out like that. It was naïve of me to think it would not.”

Genis squeezes his father's shoulder, a bit taken aback by the other's self-recriminations. “We do have to wait until we hear from Moondragon again.” 

Mar-Vell frowns. He starts to stroke Chewie’s fur, since the flerken somehow levitated onto his lap. “That's right.”

He doesn't start talking though, so Genis, who has a lot more experience in admitting his feelings by now, continues: “I don’t know how I feel. Part of me… is jealous and confused. Part of me wants bad things to happen to … someone. I don’t want that, but those feelings just come.” He doesn’t really know how to answer his father’s guilty feelings, because objectively, it is sort of true. To him, his father has been dead forever and unable to influence the present. But really, it’s less than a year since the Phoenix, according to what Melissa told him. Not that long.

Genis tries to gather his thoughts, but he isn't sure what he feels—he can deal with Moondragon showing up in unexpected places. That's what she does, and the fact that she looks down on him doesn't bother him all that much, because, again, looking down on people is another Moondragon thing. So, she is here, and she is in trouble, which means she maybe won’t be all that haughty.

Phyla is a different matter. He shouldn't feel so... jealous she was the one who actually saw his father come back —Mar-Vell is her father too, and she has every right to meet him, and he deserves at least one child who isn't a walking disaster. Except she now needs to be rescued. Which is sort of a disaster, but on the other hand, it’s not her fault? Things like that sometimes happen. He is sort of sure she will find a way to tell him it’s his fault, anyway.

Eros… Now that is hard. Thinking of him is confusing. There’s the implanted memories that tell him Eros is his father. Not a great father, but a father nonetheless. And there he feels an obligation to go and rescue him. And then there are his memories of Eros as he knew him, his friend, his sort of uncle. To whom he in some way looked up, and in other ways looked down on. Who was nice to him, except when he was not. Suddenly he remembers what he told Melissa about Steck’ee. Was that behind Eros’s behaviour, too? That he stopped being the silly fun one and became… Whatever he became? He doesn’t really know what he feels about the Eros he actually knew. Or rather, he can only describe that as complicated. Isn’t that a great word?

“It’s complicated.” He says, just about in the same moment when his father utters the same words and they both grin. 

“I guess that kind of is the problem?” Genis says after a moment. “I mean, it's always been complicated with me and Eros, because of the implanted memories. I remembered him being my father, and well, he didn't? And then I found he wasn't, but I still remembered that and-” He shrugs. “I guess he didn't know how to deal with it. He tried, but...”

Mar-Vell gently squeezes his shoulder for a moment. “He was my friend.” He says it softly, looking into the distance. “I trusted him. But it looks like my trust was misplaced. Sometimes, even cosmic awareness cannot protect you from misjudging people. Or deceiving yourself. I am very angry at him. Yet, at the same time, I do not want him to suffer, and especially not suffer because he tried to protect me.” He buries his face in his hands.

Genis can hear the conflicting emotions in his father’s voice, and the distress. He doesn’t really know how to deal with that but wraps his arms around Mar-Vell and holds him, earning a slightly crooked smile.

Hallie is fidgeting as she waits for Norbert to finish taking his readings. She’d been sitting mostly still for a while, alternating between her human and bio-electric states when Norbert asked her to switch. It’s supremely boring.

At least for her. Norbert seems fascinated and keeps making small noises of interest and surprise every now and then.

After a while, he looks up. “Alright, get over here.” When she does, he continues: “Since I can’t use the console and stand on the diagnostics platform, let me show you how to take the readings.”

Hallie frowns, because all she sees is a lot of dials and switches looking like a scifi movie. And kind of old-fashioned, if she is honest. “But I don’t know what to look for,” she protests.

“That’s ok,” Norbert says, pointing to a spiderlike device plugged into the console. “My Tech-Pac will store the readings and I can sift through them later.”

“OK, then,” Hallie says and tries to memorize everything the best she can. It’s not as complicated as she feared it might be—Norbert programmed his sci-fi computer to actually do most of the work and she’s simply supposed to hit enter, whenever a specific message pops up. So far, so good.

He steps on the platform and she turns the dials to the first setting, then pushes start. Lights flicker, the Tech-Pac starts beeping and blinking. Then she is told to push a button, adjust the dials and push another button… Eventually they are done again, and Norbert comes over again. The techdrone detaches from the console and links up to him again. “So, now we will see.”

A screen and a keyboard form in front of him, both operated by the same thin metal tendrils that hand linked up the console before. He writes a command and then the screen starts displaying graphs, circles, sinus wave functions and more complicated shapes. Finally Norbert hums in surprise. “There’s two breaks in your quantum signature and several in mine, but most of them smaller ones.” He starts typing very fast, which is looking very disconcerting, since he isn’t even keeping his eyes on the keyboard.

Hallie watches him intently, but he doesn’t seem to come forward with anything approaching an explanation. Instead, beads of sweat start forming on his temples and run down his face.

“Norbert? What’s wrong?” she asks. She reaches out to touch his shoulder, but hesitates, uncertain how he’d react.

He swallows hard and looks up. “Get the Winter Soldier. Quickly.”

Hallie rushes out without any more questions. 

Being soldiers, Mar-Vell and Carol eventually decide to use the empty waiting hours to catch some more sleep, which they probably need. Rick and Una are cleaning up the kitchen and generally have a good time snarking at each other.

That leaves Genis and Melissa to take a stroll through the cotati grove until they can find a nice place to sit down and finish their sandwiches.

“When Abe and Hallie sent me those pictures of alien trees, I didn’t think I’d see any so soon,” she muses.

“They’re cotati,” Genis says, dragging half-forgotten lessons on Kree and their galaxy out of the deepest recesses of his mind. “They’re sentient… um trees. Obviously. The Kree hate them, because… um… they were native to Hala too, and the Kree didn’t like competition from food?” He pauses and shakes his head. “No, wait, it was because the Skrulls liked them. Except there are some Kree who worship them, don’t ask me why.”

“The more I hear about the Kree, the happier I am I’m human,” Melissa comments with something like horrified awe in her voice.

“Well, that seems to be a common sentiment,” Genis says. “Except Skrulls aren’t much better, just in a less… er… industrialized way, and the Shi’ar never really moved past tribal moral rules.”

“If most Kree don’t like cotati, then why did they bring your father back to life?” Melissa asks.

Genis isn’t really sure either. “I’ve no clue. Moondragon might have an idea, since she’s a priestess. You can try asking her, if you feel like being condescended to.”

“She didn’t seem so bad when I met her,” Melissa says. “Although, I guess she was too busy being worried about her girlfriend.”

Genis is fairly sure that she can’t mean Phyla, since she didn’t even know about her, until he told her. “But you’ve never met Marlo before?”

“Wait what?” Melissa asks, looking about as confused as Genis is feeling. “No, I didn’t. And I didn’t know they were together at any point either. I meant Hellcat. Patsy Walker.”

“And Phyla complains about me sleeping around,” Genis grumbles.

Melissa pats his shoulder consolingly. “She’s jealous.”

“Well, I’m the one with the better taste, anyway,” Genis says. Melissa puts a hand on his shoulder then and when he stops and turns towards her, she leans up to kiss him. 

The grove is really quite lovely. It’s also oddly quiet—at least compared to forests on Earth. The only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the creaking of wood, since there are no animals to make any other sounds.

Melissa doesn’t really mind. She’s really comfortable, leaning against Genis and munching on her sandwich.

“We should do this more often,” she says.

Genis leans down and kisses her cheek. “I like the idea.”

Melissa giggles and turns around to kiss him back. She brushes her fingers against his cheek and feels his arms encircle her. 

“I thought you would,” she answers, once they part. She rests her forehead against his shoulder for a moment, then kisses his cheek. “Although, this place has very serious pros. No ants.”

Genis frowns for a moment, before going, “Oh. They’re insects, right? The ones that need your blood to lay eggs?”

“You’re thinking mosquitos,” Melissa says. “Ants get into your cake, and some of them bite too.”

“Right,” Genis replies. “So, we’ll need cake for a real Earth picnic?”

Melissa giggles. “It’s more that there’s rarely a bad opportunity for a slice of cake.”

“We don’t have any now, though,” Genis says. “We’ll have to make do without it.” He kisses his cheek. “Do you think we’ll manage?”

“Oh, I’m quite sure we will,” she answers and puts her hand at the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss. On the whole, she thinks that this is really quite a nice picnic.

Chapter Text

Bucky can’t say he expected he’d ever be the control group. That he’s the least weird person in the group is not that much of a surprise to him—a metal arm and being ancient are not nearly in the same league of superhero oddness when compared to being an ion being or having a Kree magic stone inside you.

So, he listens to Norbert’s explanation and consents to the checkup.

“And you are sure you never travelled to another reality?” Norbert asks.

“Not that I know of. Other planets, yes, but not another world.”

“Time travel?”

“Only the normal way. I think. I mean, being frozen and thawed, but time moved around me,” he tries to explain.

Seeing the compassion in Hallie’s eyes makes him feel weird. He doesn’t get to dwell on it much, though—Norbert gasps. “It’s here too. There’s one reading we all have in common—the most recent one. Something happened very recently. Something weird involving other dimensions.”

“Do I want to know what you are talking about?” Bucky asks. The whole thing sounds quite familiar, from some rumours he heard about various people who suddenly popped up in different places and told strange stories.

The other man takes a deep breath and looks like he wants to start a rather complex explanation, and then thinks better of it. “Well, every universe has a unique quantum signature. Sometimes, people cross over between universes, dimension and so on. And the equipment here can pick up those differences – I guess it was meant to screen for invaders from other dimensions.”

“Would make sense,” Bucky agrees. “But we aren’t from another dimension? Or are we?”

“Of course not. The defence mechanisms in this ship would have disabled us.” At Hallie’s alarmed look he scoffs. “I turned them off. I don’t want to die because this medieval computer code deteriorated past the point of correct function.”

For an idle moment, Bucky wonders who is more paranoid, Nick for employing defence mechanisms like that or Norbert for actually looking for them.

“After I improved on the diagnostics, I can also take sequential readings. The quantum signature isn’t stable, it changes with time as the universe expands and the quantum particles deteriorate. The particles also imprint on everyone who shares space with them.”

Hallie frowns. “So you can see if a person only was where and when they belong to or if their readings differ because they time travelled?”

“Or moved to other realities.” Norbert sighs. “So you have the signature of this universe, up to the point when you moved to the other world. Then there’s the big break, where the signature ceases to exist completely, before continuing in this universe. Like everything stopped… and when it started again, you were yanked back here, where you originated.”

The girl looks thoughtful.

Bucky frowns. “And why did you need me?”

“Because Hallie and all of us Thunderbolts travelled to a different world at one point. So, it wouldn’t tell me if there was something different in my or her signature, because they’ll all show mostly the same. And Karla travelled the timestream, just as I did. I needed someone who would not show anything weird, beyond whatever weirdness the universe is cooking up.” That’s quite a long speech for Norbert, who mostly prefers short, pithy statements, unless he can prove himself smarter than everyone else.

“So, if you look at Karla’s it will be a lot like yours?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Norbert says. “I can ask her if she’d let me take a reading. If for no other reason than to verify which signature is which.”

Leaving Carol asleep on the bed, Mar-Vell decides to talk to Melissa. After their discussion last night, he doesn't want to leave her worrying, especially since things are bound to get very chaotic soon, so he goes looking for her and Genis. He finds them outside, sitting underneath a tree, and talking quietly with one another. The young woman is on Genis’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder—Mar-Vell feels rather bad about interrupting them, but it’s too late to retreat now. Genis has already noticed him.

“Did something happen?” Genis asks, and Melissa turns around to look at him.

“No, not yet,” he says. “May we talk?”

“I’ll revise my essay on Othello,” the young woman says, as she starts to get up.

“Actually, I wanted to talk with both of you, but if this is a bad moment, we can talk later,” Mar-Vell answers, recognizing a ‘I’ll just let you talk in private’ excuse.

The gaze she throws him is quite resigned. A Private facing a tongue lashing by her superior, not yet an execution, just something unpleasant to be endured. She remains standing, very straight, her hands laced behind her back.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” he says. “I’m sorry if I made you uneasy—this kind of conversation is not something military academy prepares you for.”

Genis gets up to put his arm over her shoulders then, but both of them stay quiet.

“Yesterday, you said that I ought to see your past,” he continues. “I didn’t think it necessary.” He tries to project reassurance. “I didn’t even understand what you wanted me to know.”

When she looks at him incredulously, he continues: “But since it was something that was bothering you so much, I tried to find out more. And what I did find out doesn’t change what I said—I still don’t mind; and for what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry about what you had to go through.”

Melissa lets out a breath and finally seems to relax. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“No, it’s quite all right,” Mar-Vell cuts off any apologies. “We’ve never met before and neither of us has any idea what to expect from the other. And for all I lived on Earth, I am an alien. That makes me even more of an unknown quantity.”

Melissa bites her lip and then holds out her hand. “Maybe we can start again? I’m Melissa Gold and I’m in love with your son.”

Mar-Vell takes her hand, and smiles at her. “I’m glad to meet you. I hope you and Genis are going to be happy together.”

Carol wakes from feeling Moondragon's mental touch. There's a sense of weariness that comes with the words, +We’re inbound.+

+And the bad news?+ Carol asks, already forming a guess.

+Phyla stayed behind to distract the Kree,+ the telepath replies. +And I am aware that we just gave them a much better bait than Eros, and I know you aren't much of a fan of Eros now, but-+

+I know he's in a bad way,+ Carol says. +I may not be a fan, but he is an Avenger. How bad is he?+

+Once an Avenger, always an Avenger?+ Moondragon's mental voice falls silent for a moment.  +Eros is stable at the moment.+

+When will you arrive?+

+In about four hours, provided I don’t encounter any more trouble.+ It doesn’t sound like she is considering that likely.

+Well, thank you for your new found sense of tact in not contacting Mar-Vell again. You know he hates this.+

+I couldn’t reach him. I guess the Cotati share your sentiment and are shielding him.+

+Remind me to thank them later.+ Somehow, Moondragon brings out the same feelings in her that Moonstone does. Must have something to do with the moon. Maybe naming yourself after the moon keeps you stuck in permanent PMS. If that is the case, she never wants to meet Moon Knight.

+I’ll contact you again before we break hyperspace. Maybe by then you can come up with a plan to rescue Phyla? Once you are done feeling superior, I mean.+

+Just because you would be feeling superior in my position, doesn’t mean I am.+ Carol rubs her temples: this form of communication gives her a headache. Or maybe it’s just Moondragon’s personality. +We have a plan. The details need to wait for further information, though. So hurry up?+

+I will contact you again, when I’m close.+

With a sigh, Carol takes another of the purple pills before going to look for Mar-vell.

It's another few hours before Moondragon will arrive, and Rick has plenty of time to decide that he does not want to be in the line of fire, especially when the Kree are involved. You never know what their blob-in-a-jar will come up with, if presented with a tasty brain.

He looks absent-mindedly at the trees outside and then it suddenly hits him what he is seeing. A planet with a breathable atmosphere, with nice, sentient trees, which conveniently also provide shade.

“Hey, how about before you all head out and kick asses, you leave the squishy people like me here?” he asks.

“That is a good idea,” Una-Rogg says. “There's a difference between violating exile and breaking out a prisoner.”

Mar-Vell looks at them, and nods after a moment. “That seems to be a reasonable idea.” Then, he and Genis look at each other, and their expressions simultaneously become doubtful.

Rick decides to pre-empt any accusations of attracting trouble. He is not that bad, he really isn't. And then, it hits him. It's beautiful. A moment of true inspiration poets of old would submit to the biggest meanest muse for and let her punch them in the nuts, if it meant they'd achieve it.

And it's not a song, because Rick is not a masochist and does not have a muse to punch him anywhere. There are other people volunteering punches and he likes to avoid them, too.

“And maybe someone else could stay? In case the Kree somehow figure out we're here and send a ship or something?” he adds. “I mean, there's only a forest down here, so if they do come looking it will be the first place to check. And it's not a big one.”

Carol Danvers studies him for a moment, before saying, “So, we'd need to leave one big hitter with you, in case someone needs to shoot down a dreadnought.”

“That means me or you, right?” Genis asks.

“I could maybe disable a dreadnought, but not on my own,” Marv says thoughtfully.

“Let's review,” Carol Danvers says. “Other than me and Genis, our other major hitter is Moonstone. Atlas wields considerable force, but is no use against space ships. Fixer could disable a ship but he would need to get access to it.”

Genis looks at the dampener on his wrist and seems to come to some sort of a conclusion. “I should stay,” he says. “I can take on a fleet on my own.”

Mar-Vell and Carol study him for a while, and eventually both nod.

Transmission incoming from Moondragon, the AI announces. She is inbound in five minutes.

Carol Danvers gets up and glances at Rick. “It's probably time to put you in a safer pace for now.”

Rick grins and puts his hands up. “No protests here. I'll be sensible and sit quietly, and avoid saying anything that might be tem-”

He doesn't finish because Genis clamps his hand over Rick's mouth. “You were going to do that just now.”

Chapter Text

When Moondragon arrives and lands her large ship beside Harrison, only Carol and Mar-vell go over. Their greetings are short and tense. Almost immediately, she leads Carol and Mar-Vell towards the medbay.

Eros is lying pale and still underneath a blanket, hooked up to wires and tubes. It's not really all that different from what it would look like on earth, just more blinking lights and no pillow. There is no smell of sickness, only the sterile tang of disinfectant and a vague hint of blood. Carol does not know him well, but she can’t help but wince at the sight of his face. She’s been beaten up before and after she got her powers, and been interrogated, too. She can’t recall ever looking this bad. Ever having seen anyone look this bad and live, actually.

Moondragon seems to share her sentiment, because she does not look at him, instead she immediately bustles around, inspecting at instruments and everything, until finally Carol can't bear the beeping anymore. For her, it will always sound like a countdown.

“So, how bad is it?”

Moondragon doesn't look up from the screen she is inspecting. “I can't help him. He is stable for now, and he will at least last a few more days, provided nothing drastic happens to him. But sooner or later, he will shut down beyond my ability to keep him alive. And the longer his injuries stay untreated, the greater the chances he will be permanently crippled.”

While Mar-vell stays silent, and watches, occasionally flickering with his cosmic awareness, Carol forces herself to ask the obvious question. Starfox is an Eternal, after all. According to Avengers files, they are pretty much indestructible. “Why isn't he healing?”

“Because the Eternal resilience and regeneration, at least with Eternals from Titan, is a conscious thing.” Moondragon frowns, adjusting a drip-feed. “It doesn't happen on its own. And from the moment Tanalth broke him, he had no chance and not enough energy to use that, because he was already exhausted.”

“Tanalth?” Mar-Vell finally stirs from his observation.

The name sounds vaguely familiar—Carol can't place it right away but is quite sure she must have heard it at some point. She tries to remember where and when---was it Steve, who mentioned this person?

“You know her?” Moondragon asks, clearly surprised by the fact.

“I knew of her.” Mar-Vell corrects her, his gaze still locked on Eros. Then, he looks at Moondragon, and continues. “She was very ambitious, very intelligent, and very ruthless. The kind of person to give Ronan nightmares, because she was also younger than him and had not made his mistakes that made him unpopular.”

Carol interrupts. “A woman did this?” She stops—not just because she finally remembers where she heard the name but knows just how idiotic that kind of reaction is—especially from a woman who can hit people with a car with no effort. “I mean, a normal person did that? Someone who was not a cosmic avatar or the like?”

Moondragon chews her lower lip. “I am not sure what she is. But it was definitely her. I … felt it.” It explains absolutely nothing to Carol, and as she stares at Moondragon, she notices out of the corner of her eye Mar-vell doing the same. It seems to have some effect on Moondragon since she explains just what exactly happened when she and Phyla were on the way to Equivox.

Carol can see why Moondragon would make the choice she did, but Mar-vell appears to be on the verge of saying something unpleasant. Then he sighs. “It's really too late to berate you for not contacting me about this. Now we have to fix it.”

“Please tell me you know how to. Please, tell me I did not get Eros killed because I was arrogant again.” There is something she mutters under her breath, but Carol isn't sure what.

“I might. When Isaac had been reprogrammed by Thanos to kill the Eternals, he drained them dry and left them to die. I could restore them with energy projected through the negabands.” He looks down on the shattered body on the bed and amends: “They weren’t injured back then. I don’t know if restoring the energy will be enough to save him.”

Carol puts her hand on his shoulder. “Well, it is a chance?” She turns to Moondragon. “So, don’t tell me you lost the negabands.”

“I didn’t. But I hope Mar-vell did not forget to mention what could happen if he puts them on again.”

“He didn’t.” Carol shrugs. “Which is why I will do it.”

“No, you won’t.” Mar-Vell sounds very adamant. “If wearing those cursed things killed me, you’re not going to risk it.”

It’s very nice he is being protective and everything, Carol thinks, but it doesn’t solve their problem. “I am perfectly healthy. I can wear them for a moment and take them off again.”

“While it’s all very charming to watch you be noble, doesn’t Genis wear negabands, too?” Moondragon looks quite exasperated.

“He absorbed his set,” Carol feels obliged to point out and then adds after a moment: “So, he shouldn’t he have those powers anyway?”

Moondragon looks like she is going to object, but then she shrugs. “Normally I wouldn’t ask him to get within five hundred feet of Eros, but beggars and all that.”

Mar-Vell glares at her. “If you consider Genis capable of harming a helpless person, then you obviously know him less well than I do. And I only met him two weeks ago.” He sounds quite angry, so Carol puts a hand on his shoulder. Mar-vell gives her a short half-smile, then says calmly: “I will talk to him.”

Melissa and Genis have found a nice spot, where Una’s and Rick’s latest discussion doesn’t carry, aside from the occasional louder sentence. Genis did offer to help with setting up camp at one point, but he only got told that he is still recovering, and since they so obviously wanted to fight, he did not correct them.

“Do you think they will ever get tired of whining?” Melissa asks, as she brushes her fingers against his hand.

“Maybe let’s give them a few more months, until the novelty has worn off,” Genis says, and leans down to kiss her cheek. Really, they have more interesting, and more important, things to do. Or talk about. And then, he realizes that, no, he actually was being too optimistic. “No, on the second thought, they never will, because Rick will always find something to complain about. The bed will be too soft, or too hard, or someone will have written a bad review of his songs…”

Really, it’s an endless litany.

Melissa giggles then, but they don’t get a chance to continue the conversation or switch the subject, since Genis’s father approaches them. It seems that whatever Moondragon told him had not been good news, since he’s looking upset-serious instead of just serious.

“Might we talk for a moment, Genis?” he asks, and Melissa gets up to leave. She looks around, likely trying to think of a reason to let them talk in private, but Mar-vell stops her. “Please stay, Melissa.”

“Did something happen?” Genis asks.

“I need to ask something of you,” Mar-Vell replies. “But if you cannot do it, then we will think of another way.”

And that is like a huge sign telling him ‘this is the time to start fretting’.

“Eros is in a very bad shape,” Mar-Vell explains. “He doesn’t have the energy to regenerate, so his body is not healing. And given how bad his injuries are that means he will die soon.”

Genis certainly doesn’t want that, but he also can’t really think of any way in which he could help. “But I don’t have healing powers.”

“You have energy powers,” Melissa points out, proving once more how quick on the uptake she is. Certainly, quicker than him. “Wouldn’t that just be a question of you tanning for a while, and transferring what you gathered to Eros?”

“It is,” Mar-Vell says. “I did something like this once, a long time ago when Isaac temporarily went crazy.”

That his father did it does not mean Genis will be able to, or will he? How his powers work… Well, he had figured out a number of things, true, but he never did try transferring energy. And even if he did, his output is photonic, not the type of energy the Eternals absorb. Still, the same can be said about his father, so logically, this is nothing that cannot be overcome. “I’ll try.”

“I’ll be with you and help you,” Mar-Vell says.

Genis nods and takes Melissa’s hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She squeezes his hand gently and he manages a smile.

Chapter Text

Genis takes a deep breath. His father is there and so is Melissa. And Moondragon, who if bad turned to worse, could just put blocks in his head like the last time. There’s no reason for him to stall any longer, so he grits his teeth and deactivates the dampener with shaking fingers, just like Mr Fantastic showed him.

For a moment, he expects the universe to scream its misery at him, but nothing happens.

“Don’t open the floodgates.” It’s Heather’s voice, not in his head, just in his ears. “If you can’t control it, I’ll block them telepathically.”

Genis frowns. He doesn’t feel like panicking. For once, he feels as safe as he ever did, the people around him trusting him. Clearly, it makes all the difference. The universe is still silent, except for one voice. No, four voices, Heather who is speaking to him; Melissa, who is a loving presence flickering with concern; the warmth of sunlight his shoulder—his father, he realizes and Carol, who is something between a tornado and a rock.

And there is Eros, too, but only barely, the faintest light wrapped in darkness, threatening to fade and die any moment. It’s a lot of input, but not overwhelming.

“I’m not opening anything,” he says. “I’m right here.”

He feels Heather’s relieved sigh more than he hears it. Well, there are worse things than synaesthesia. Some people like that. It’s a bit dizzying, to hear Melissa’s love like a song or to perceive his father’s hand on his shoulder like the rays of the sun, but it seems to be fading, sorting itself into the proper categories.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t know where the certainty comes from, if it is something he is picking up from his father, or Melissa or the universe itself, but he holds it, and wraps it around himself, until he finally is just Genis again, and sitting in a chair.

Heather sighs again. “Well done.” And Melissa very carefully closes her arms around him. “I had forgotten how eerie you look when you do this.”

“I do?”

“You look like a ghost,” Melissa says. She brushes her fingers against his cheek, her touch losing its earlier caution.

“That doesn't sound bad?” he says uncertainly.

“It's not bad, it just takes getting used to,” Melissa says. “I love you, no matter what you look like.”

He smiles, for a moment wrapping his arms around her, noting the quiet strength that infuses her and has nothing to do with her powers. It’s surprisingly similar to how his father feels, a gentle, soft strength, not a roaring tornado of force.

“You can do it,” she whispers into his ear, before stepping back.

Genis concentrates on Eros, instinctively wincing at the sight of his injuries. He grits his teeth, because he really doesn’t want to see how it all happened. The Eternal’s presence is diminished, beyond being unconscious. It’s like the colours in him are faded, like he isn’t really here anymore. Restoring this is what he will have to do. He can see it working… That leaves the problem of creating the correct energy output. For all his father talked about the ‘energy of life’ it means nothing much to Genis. He can shine, yes, creating light, but it can’t be light that is needed, otherwise there’d be a whole desert full of it out there, right?

Mar-Vell and Heather are silent. Not frustrated, to his great surprise, merely leaving him time to think about it all. He looks up at Melissa’s face, which is serious and confident. She would be able to figure it out, wouldn’t she? He remembers all the times she actually used her powers as more than a battering ram, finding the right frequency to achieve a variety of effects. And he can ask her, he realises. Almost involuntarily, he smiles, leaning slightly against her. “How would you do it?” he asks. “I’ve only ever had to shoot things.” A slight exaggeration, but shooting things is easy.

“I’m listening,” she explains. “When I need to do more than just batter things into submission, I need to listen first.”

Heather looks like she wants to say something, but Carol shakes her head and she is silent.

“Just what can you hear?” Genis asks. He isn’t really sure why he is following this train of thought, except even if it is going nowhere it’s still better than scratching his head.

“It depends. My range of hearing is greater than a normal human’s, but it’s not supernatural.”

“You said you shattered the Moonstones. How did you know how?”

She frowns. “It’s just crystal. The right frequency will make it crack.” Seeing that he is listening with rapt attention, she explains: “Atoms vibrate at a certain frequency, that’s different for everything. If I stimulate it in that frequency, it vibrates much stronger, until the connections between the atoms break apart.”

Carol raises her eyebrows in a moment that suggests enlightenment, but apparently she is the only one. After Genis nods to her, she says: “So you can hear that frequency?”

“I can.” Melissa frowns. “I mean, I’m sort of homing in on it, starting somewhere and hearing the material resonate as I get closer.”

Genis smiles. “Thank you.” He closes his eyes and reaches out to take Eros’s good hand. It’s cold and limp. And he concentrates, trying to find a connection as he looks for the energy he absorbed from the sun. Cosmic awareness might make this easier, but he does not dare to use it. It’s never been all that reliable and he dare not make a mistake now. He can feel the energy float around himself, the void inside Eros and when he concentrates, there’s the moment where the void starts to fill… 

The light fades around Genis, as he watches Eros’s face. He seems to look better now—more present, the colour coming back and the bruises look like they are slowly starting to fade. The machinery to which the Eternal is hooked is making different noises, too.

Heather breathes out loudly, and Genis feels her relief—not just hers, actually: his father seems to share her sentiment, only with some more complicated feelings thrown into the mix. And there’s something else. They are grateful to him, which is a novelty. No, that’s unfair. Blushing crimson, he buries his face in Melissa waist, while she strokes his hair. He breathes out.

It worked. Eros is no longer in danger of dying.

“Shouldn’t he wake up?” Melissa asks after a moment.

“It was possible that he will,” Moondragon answers. “But it’s equally likely that he will only regain consciousness once his body is mostly healed. His head injuries are severe. But for now, we have to let nature and his body do their work.”

Genis decides to take this as a sign that he can turn the dampener back on. He still doesn’t trust himself with his powers fully. Not if he’s going to be just with Rick and Una. Not with his nightmares, and the darkness he senses lurking behind the dream.

“Someone should stay with him, in case he wakes up,” he says, once the device is engaged again. “I mean… I guess he might panic and think the Kree kidnapped him, if he wakes up alone?”

“Rick knows him,” Mar-Vell says. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Genis turns around just in time to see Moondragon roll her eyes and press her hand to her forehead.

“You brought Rick Jones to the Kree Empire?” she asks in her best exasperated tone.

“He brought himself,” Carol shoots back. “Seeing that he is an adult and capable of making his own choices.”

Moondragon lets out a long-suffering sigh but leaves any doubts she might have as too Rick’s maturity unsaid.

Unfortunately. Genis realises that whatever she’d have liked to say might have been amusing.

Chapter Text

After Mar-vell and the others left to get Rick Jones and call their back up – of whom Moondragon vaguely heard at some point - she sits in the cockpit of her ship, her hand hovering over the dial to engage a remote communication to Titan. Mentor ought to know. She can't keep it from him. Except, what is she going to say? “Eros got hurt because Mar-Vell came back?” “Sorry, I watched your son get tortured because he felt he had to defend Titan since nobody told him Mar-Vell’s grave is empty?”

There is nothing she can tell him that won’t torment him because he cannot help. It’s better to wait until Eros wakes up. Then he can call his father himself and assure him there’s no reason to worry anymore. She hates feeling helpless and guilty like this. Hates not knowing what is happening to Phyla and if they will be too late. It wakes in her the urge to hit something. Instead, she tries to meditate. Find the peace inside, beyond her emotions.

It seems to work, because by the time both Captain Marvels show up, they react with the typical annoyance of those who find her composure to be a sign of coldness.  There is really nothing to discuss beyond what they can do to save Phyla and thwart the Kree Empire.

Moondragon takes out three mugs without even asking, if they do want to drink anything, and then says, “I don't have coffee. I can give you black tea or a herbal blend.”

Carol Danvers decides that it's black tea then, and so does Mar-Vell, and Moondragon prepares two tea pots. She puts them aside for a moment, and turns around towards them. They’ve migrated closer to one another when she wasn’t looking and Carol Danvers is now stroking Mar-Vell’s cheek.

Not long ago, she would have commented. After all, they had judged her for her perceived coldness moments ago, and now they were indulging themselves. But Kree and humans draw comfort from physical contact to similar degrees. So Heather squashes the urge.

“Perhaps you can tell me more about the Thunderbolts?” she asks instead. “I think they saved Patsy from the netherworld, and I did meet the little redhead once. But other than that, I have no idea what they can do.”

Carol Danvers nods, and starts explaining. 

The tea is ready by the time Carol gives Moondragon an over-view of the Thunderbolts and answers several questions. The priestess sets the steaming mugs down before them, and looks at Mar-Vell.

“Do you know anything more about this Tanalth than what you said before?” she asks.

Carol starts reviewing what she remembers of what Steve had told her in her head, trying to remember all the relevant bits. Even though, the question is not directed towards her, there definitely were facts they will need.

While she thinks, Mar-Vell starts listing what he remembers. “She's a foot taller than me,” he says, and appears to gather his thoughts, likely trying to think of something more useful. “I heard she killed a few of her sparring partners, when they did not match her standards, but it's all rumours. I've never met her, and she was... around twenty back then.”

Carol interjects at this point, “Steve met her. She was on a secret mission to get some Kree artefact from Earth, and she needed knowledge Namor, the Winter Soldier and the first Human Torch had. Likely Bucky will be able to tell us more, but from what I remember…” She drums her fingers against her thigh as she thinks. “He said she was at comparable level of threat to Ronan, but less obsessed with honour, and more intelligent. She brought some sort of honour guard with her, and that was not for show, so she doesn't seem to think she needs to keep proving she can smash everything on her own.”

“That would line up with what I've seen through Phyla's eyes,” Moondragon says. “She had a sniper shoot Phyla with a kinetic weapon—she seems to have figured out that a projectile will hurt her, even if she absorbs the kinetic energy.”

Mar-Vell flinches, his eyes going wide. His grip on Carol’s hand becomes almost painfully tight. She sometimes wonders how telepaths can be so tactless. And now she is wondering how someone who clearly is intelligent can be so damn dumb. She can guess what Mar-Vell will say next.

“I should just give myself in,” Mar-Vell says. “There is no point in any more people getting harmed, because-”

“No, you should not,” Carol replies. Her voice comes out much sharper than she intended, but she is definitely not letting him do anything of this sort. Yes, it is understandable, and valid, and she is still not going to have that. “Because if you do this, I am going to call Steve, and get every single Avenger here. And if I can I will get the X-men too, and if I can find any other super hero, them as well. And I have to burn down the Kree Empire to get you back, I will.”

She definitely means the last part. And while she's at it, she is so punching the Supreme Intelligence in its smug blob-face.

“And we have no guarantee that would help Phy,” Moondragon adds in a much more level tone. “Tanalth could very well decide to keep her hostage to make sure you don't run away the moment she's safe.”

Mar-Vell watches them for a while, and his expression indicates his clearly very tempted to debate. Then, finally, he says, “I see your point.”

Moondragon pours the tea into the mugs at this point, and hands them out. She sips some of hers, while Mar-Vell watches the dark amber liquid in the plain white mug. Carol drinks some of her own, and slowly settles back into a less militant mood.

It then occurs to her that there is another thing they need to discuss.

“Does your ship have a stealth module?” she asks. “We equipped mine and that of the Thunderbolts, but I don’t think Fixer and MACH will be able to adapt the technology for yours quickly enough, because it is much bigger than ours.”

Moondragon shook her head. “I never needed one before,” she admits. “I believe the best course of action is to leave it here. It’s not sufficiently armed either, and I do not dare move Eros out of the infirmary yet.”

“Rick and Una will need a way to escape, if something appears that could engage Genis on equal terms,” Carol adds. Not that she thinks that this is very likely, but just because it was the bad guy who sung one ought to be prepared, it doesn’t mean it’s not solid advice.

Moondragons sighs. “I will explain to them how to engage autopilot.” 

Abe looks at the readings Norbert has taken over Norbert’s shoulder, while Hallie does so from the side. It’s slightly annoying, but it’s better than facing them alone, Norbert decides. Especially since his reading starts getting really weird at one point—well, weirder than everyone else’s.

Sure, so are Karla’s, but that’s the Moonstone affecting her signature—and there’s no double signatures in her reading, unlike with Norbert’s.

“They start repeating here,” Abe indicates a place on the chart.

“Yeah,” Norbert says after a moment. He does his best to keep a tight lid on his emotions—it feels like if he lets them show, he’ll fall apart completely. Hallie touches his shoulder as he speaks. It’s surprisingly comforting. “I’m… not sure what it means.”

“So, we’ve overlap until here with Karla,” Abe says pointing at the chart. “And from here… to here, about the same time where we all have this weird break, the double signatures stop, and it becomes the same as everyone’s – like you moved through time again.”

Norbert runs his hands over his face, pausing to rub his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s like… like I was plucked from the past when everything reset. For want of a better word.”

Abe sits down beside Norbert and puts a hand on his other shoulder. “Like reality was reloaded from an older save?”

Norbert nods, managing to smile a pale smile. Trust Abe to come up with something like that. “Sort of. Hm… Just what did Karla tell you about what happened to me? She came back from the timestream, didn’t she?”

“Just that you were dead,” Abe says. “That you were killed,” he corrects himself. “But that you fixed everything—all of existence.”

Norbert stares at him, feeling almost like he’s falling. Those words… They bring something to the surface with them. The smell of burned meat—a human body charred at his feet. His own body.

“Ohhh God…”

“Bert?” Hallie asks, worried. “Is everything okay?”

“I… no, nothing’s okay,” Norbert groans. “And the only thing I fixed was my own dumb mistake.” 

Norbert is shaking, as he stares into space. Clearly, whatever he’s remembering is freaking him out a lot. Carefully, Abe puts his hand on Norbert’s shoulder to remind him he’s with them and not in whatever moment he’s remembering.

“Bert?” Abe asks. “What’s wrong?”

Norbert hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I- I think I shouldn’t have gone poking at this.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Abe says, guiding Norbert to seat down.

“What did you find out?” Hallie asks, full of concern.

“I… killed my past self,” Norbert moans.

Abe stares and so does Hallie. He bites back the obvious question—how come Norbert is still alive and guesses instead. “And you stayed behind to make sure the history isn’t altered?”

“I even erased my memories,” Norbert says. “And yet, here I am now. I… I’m not sure a human brain is built to deal with something like this.”

“Bert,” Abe says, “you’re here. With us. You’re not dead and you’re not trapped in a time-loop. I can’t promise this will make you feel better now, but eventually it will. You are alive, and you will get over this.”

“Y-yeah,” Norbert replies. He’s trembling still, and Hallie hugs him. After a moment, he wraps his arms around her, too. “Oh fuck. Just fuck. Now I’ll never sleep again,” he moans.

“You’re safe now, Bert,” Hallie says. “We’re not going to let anything like that happen to you again.”

That gets through to him, and his reaction is a bit more normal for him than his stark shock, he barks a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t think that’s up to you – I’m pretty hard to stop from making fatal mistakes like that.”

“We’ll tell Erik to knock you out, before you make one,” Abe jokes. “Now come on. You need the rest.”

Chapter Text

Karla had met her fair share of living legends, both the heroic and the villainous kind. She had stood before the Kree Supreme Intelligence and had faced down Graviton. And at one point, she had met a Skrull who had been made to believe he is Mar-Vell.

She thinks about this now, as they all take their places. Danvers is next to the Kree, hovering like a protective she-wolf, all teeth and 'my territory'. Mar-Vell accepts this, and in fact seems to be enjoying it, although she doubts he is aware of it. That’s something the Skrulls clearly would not have guessed.

And Melissa and her boy toy seem to be falling into a similar pattern. Trust the little minx to weasel herself into the bed of someone who can destroy planets. She could admire that, if the girl weren't so intent on squandering the opportunity.

Abe and Erik are both watching Mar-Vell like swooning maidens. She half-expects them to ask one of them for an underwear signing. Only Norbert seems to be unaffected, but she suspects that it has more to do with whatever it is that is eating him since yesterday—he looks pale and not entirely there. She hasn’t seen him this distracted since… No. Surely it can’t be that. So far, he gave no sign of remembering their trip through time. Why should he do that just now?

Then she catches the blue Kree woman watching her. That one is definitely aware of her strengths and how to use them.

“You look like a pink Ajes'ha,” she observes, and then glances at Mar-Vell. There's unease between them—a truce, but neither knows when the other might break it. “Doesn't she?”

Karla manages not to flinch, but she is starting to feel uneasy about the Kree. Not only does she mention the Kree warrior, whose memories had once threatened to take over her mind, she also called her by her codename on the station. How does she know about her?

Mar-Vell shrugs with a frown. He seems to agree, but for some reason – tact? – decides not to pursue the topic. “I don't think this is relevant now. Perhaps we can go over the present situation?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Erik and the Winter Soldier sit straighter, just as Danvers gets up and takes over. The situation she describes is quite the definition of a mess: the only daughter the Mar-Vell managed to produce (that they know of) is being kept in an unknown place used as bait to lure her father out. Fortunately for them, the former Kree soldier can provide them information on what to expect.

“There's a detainment facility on Equivox,” Mar-Vell explains. “Most border worlds have them, and they're designed to keep fairly high-level threats until they can be transported to a more permanent holding facility.”

“We aren’t lucky enough that they are built along the same layouts, I’d assume?” Norbert sighs, apparently himself enough to snark. “Since we need to be quick about getting the girl out, it would be very handy to know where exactly in the facility she is and what other features we have to expect.”

“That is not going to be a problem,” Mar-Vell says. “Cosmic awareness can provide the layout and I will draw a map.”

Danvers nods and continues. “Winter Soldier, you’ve fought Tanalth. Can you tell us anything about her?”

“I did,” the Winter Soldier says. “She’s… formidable. She will use any resources available to her. A pragmatic—which might work in our advantage. Perhaps we can convince her that she bit more than she can chew.” He scratches his chin. “It will not be easy.”

“Perhaps,” Danvers agrees. “Anything else you can tell us about her?”

“Jim’s—the Human Torch’s—flames didn’t harm her and she dominated the fight with him,” he says. “She has this hammer, which shoots energy. And apparently, also access to all sorts of exotic weapons, at least one of which was capable of harming Namor. He said that she didn’t come alone to fight him either. She had information about all of us—I’m quite sure she will also have looked up Carol. That said, she may be smart, but she can be outsmarted and I don’t think she will disobey a direct command from the Supreme Intelligence.”

Danvers nods at him and turns to the Kree woman. “Una, do you know anything else about her?”

The Kree woman makes a face. “She took over the Pursuer Corps after Korath-Thak died, as far as I know. To no one’s surprise, really, since she was one of the best already. She’s… dangerous. And I don’t just mean it in the sense that she has a Universal Weapon—the hammer that shoots energy, as your friend put it--and has been cybernetically augmented. She was known to use all means available to her to catch her prey.”

“And as the Grand-High Pursuer she will have considerable assets to her disposal, beyond the dreadnought Moondragon mentioned,” Mar-Vell says and rubs his forehead. “This can’t be personal. I’ve never met her.”

Danvers falls silent for a moment, and then turns to Melissa. “We need to decide on a plan. Songbird? Do you have any thoughts on this?”

Melissa nods, all field team-leader now. It still grates on Karla's nerves, knowing that the girl is better at strategy and tactics then Karla will ever be. She knows people, in the sense that she can see their weaknesses. But Songbird knows how to bring out their strengths, something she never even tried to do. And she really hates to admit, even in the privacy of her own head, that the little bitch can do anything she can’t.

“This is going to be tough, because they expect us. And we can assume that information of the fight at the space station also reached this Grand-High Pursuer, so she might have figured out some things we can do.” She looks at the Kree woman, but it’s Mar-Vell who interjects.

“It’s possible she will know how to power down the Moonstone,” he says bluntly. Somehow, Karla is not surprised—after all the Skrull did it to her. “I may be able to find a safeguard-“

“How does that work exactly?” Norbert asks. The prospect of a mystery to solve seems to galvanize him.

“The Moonstone isn’t just a battery,” Mar-Vell answers. “It’s still simplifying but think of it as a database and a computer.”

“So, we change the password,” Abe says, and both Norbert and Mar-Vell nod. Karla does not know how she feels about that. It seems too easy. And the three of them will still have the ability to disable the Moonstone.

“Will you be able to figure that out on the way?” Danvers asks. “The more time we give the Grand-High Pursuer, the nastier surprises she will be able to cook up.” So nice to be considered a liability.

And whatever happens, Moonstone is going to make so very sure the Kree will not be able to tell the shutdown code for the moonstone to Captain Marvel. That’s really all she’d need.

For a moment, all three exchange a few tense sentences and then Norbert nods. “Should be fine, and if this works as CM there says, you’ll be able to set the password yourself.” Now that’s a relief, she guesses. For a moment it looks like the Kree is going to say something, but a glare silences him.

She’s not going to take reassurances by Danvers’s boyfriend, thank you very much.

Danvers looks rather sour for a moment, but she keeps her thoughts to herself. No doubt, she had hoped for a convenient means of control for Karla. Well, too bad for her, too.

This matter dealt with, the briefing continues.

“We have three people capable of fighting in space unassisted: Captain Marvel, Moonstone and Genis,” Melissa says. “Fixer and Mach can deal with hacking and disabling technological things.”

“I can help with that,” Mar-Vell says. Melissa looks at him and nods.

“I was thinking of putting you and Moondragon together--she can work as the communication relay if we separate into teams, and you can direct us and warn us,” she says. “That would make me, Winter Soldier and Jolt the support.” She drums her fingers against the table. “I think we need one team with Moonstone to break out Phyla-vell from the detainment facility—she can phase her out of wherever they will be holding her.” The girl chews at her lower lip.

She studies Karla then, and she just knows what is going inside Melissa's head now. All of the times they fought when Osborn was in charge. Karla can guess what the young woman will say next.

“I think one of those people ought to be me or the Winter Soldier, in case we need to make some quick changes of tactics.” She looks around. “We can send Mach and Fixer to the dreadnaught, to act as a distraction—hack or disable as many systems as they can.

She looked around at them, taking a moment to think. “Let’s make this three teams: team rescue with me, Moonstone and Atlas; team distraction: Mach, Fixer, the Winter Soldier and Jolt, and mission control: Captain Marvel and… um… Captain Marvel, and Moondragon.

“Moonstone will phase Atlas and me into the cell and phase us out with Phyla-vell. Atlas and I will take care of anything that Kree might have to guard her. Mach and Fixer will disable as much of the dreadnaught as they can—the Winter Soldier can pick the order of what they target with Captain Marvel’s help. Jolt will provide fire support and if they need to can fry systems. Moondragon will relay anything Captain Marvel can give us—how the troops are moving, any unexpected things, while Captain Marvel will stay with them in case the Harrison’s stealth module fails and they need protection. Any questions?”

Chapter Text

Karla stares at the Moonstone, eyes wide and worried. As Norbert leans closer to inspect the facets of the gem that correspond to the processors of a computer, he meets her gaze. Her expression, this mixture of genuine worry and apprehension, it reminds him of something.

Inadvertently, his eyes wander from the gem to her lips, soft and full… He remembers feeling them on his own, remembers the worry in her eyes, and remembers the astonished disbelief in his mind. Did this even happen? He shakes his head to clear it.

“It’s not working,” she says, her brows furrowed in concentration, bringing him back to the present. In a minute, she’s going to throw a tantrum, Norbert thinks.

“Try again, and I’ll take a reading,” Norbert tries to head it off, as he motions for Abe and Mar-Vell to look at the screen. Moonstone glances at the Kree, before concentrating again. It’s one thing to say “this is a computer” and another to figure out how to program something that doesn’t communicate in a binary system, which is still the standard for computing for most people. Fortunately, he is not most people.

“Most of the functions remain inert. You are only accessing a small part of the Moonstones database.”  

“Something is blocking her,” Mar-Vell says after a moment.

“If we’re going to treat it like a computer, would this be a firewall?” Abe muses, proving that luck is a thing.

Mar-Vell nods in confirmation, and then Abe gasps. “I know what this is. You weren’t there—we were on Titan, and they… I guess reprogrammed it not to allow access to the memories of the previous owners. The programming must have gotten corrupted—before Zemo took the Moonstones, back when you had two, Karla?”

With an unhappy expression, the woman nods. Oh great. Now they also have to repair the first gravimetric computer he ever saw. Why does everything ever have to be more complicated because of people?

“Why would you want those blocked, anyway?” Norbert asks and when Karla starts glaring, he rolls his eyes. “Nevermind, don’t tell me. I’m sure you have perfectly valid reasons to let amateurs screw with something that worked effectively for thousands of years.”

“I don’t want the memories of a dead woman dominating my life,” Karla snaps. “I think that’s not that odd.”

Norbert sighs, but does not get to make any further comments. Being hysterical doesn’t sound like Karla at all.

“Let me see what exactly happened,” Mar-Vell says and suddenly, his features melt into darkness. Starlight flickers, and his eyes glow. Norbert has seen this on Genis-Vell, and it’s no less creepy on his father.

When he switches back to normal, his expression is something between surprised and amused, as far as Norbert can tell. “Did you know you’re part Kree?”

Karla stares at him.

“That’s why you look so much like Ajes’ha and one of the reasons why you kept getting most input from her memories,” he continues. “The Moonstone recognizes some genetic markers from you and matches it with the closest hit in the database. That’s why it would always return to you and works best for you.”

“I’m… descended from an alien,” Karla says flatly. “An ancient alien. Was she also some sort of female Ghengis Khan on steroids?”

“You could say that,” Mar-Vell says. “I think it was… 7% of living blue Kree are descended from her. The number for pink Kree is smaller, something around 3%, I believe.”

“And one of them slept with my grandmother? Is that it?” Karla asks in a faraway voice. Abe puts a hand on her shoulder and for once she’s too distracted to brush him off. There’s an unexpected stab of something as Norbert watches that.

“I can check that, if you really want to know,” Mar-Vell answers, and Karla’s eyes go wide.

“Must be very useful to be able to dig up all the dirt on everyone. Ever consider a career with a tabloid?” she snaps. She’s thoroughly spooked. Norbert knows how much she hates being vulnerable and losing control, which is probably also the reason why she agreed to have the Moonstone messed with.

“Cosmic Awareness is not a toy,” the Kree says with a shrug. “I am not trying to find out things to sate my personal curiosity. That is why I asked if you wanted to know.”

“No. No, I don’t.” She swallows. “Just fix this.”

Norbert wants to reach out, to comfort her, but Abe is already there and clearly, she’s not pushing him away. Unbidden, a memory rises in his mind again—her lips against his- It’s not the time. He needs to be professional. “I am not sure we can reach the ‘firmware’ – for want of a better word – with that firewall in place.”

Moonstone takes a deeper breath and finally shrugs off Abe’s hand. “Take down whatever ISAAC and Mentor did to the Moonstone. Give me full access again. I can deal with a cranky, blue granny.” 

Once they had finished planning, the teams migrated to the two ships, but Moondragon still lingers on her own. It’s not hidden, there isn’t really any place where one could hide it on the unnamed planet, so it’s simply in a walking distance from the Cotati grove. Rick Jones is already with Eros, so is there anything keeping her there?

Moondragon goes over mental inventory list one more time, but she is pretty sure she has covered everything—the Kree woman at least looks competent enough to keep the two walking disasters from blowing up the ship. Eros is not likely to cause any trouble either yet, even if he wakes, and just as she thinks that, she notices Genis waiting for her outside the medbay.

There isn’t really a reason for him to be here, since the last time, he sort of fled after he had done his part, so she probably eyes him quite sceptically, which causes him to raise his hands and pre-empt her: “I don’t want to go in again. I just need to talk to you for a moment.”

“Of course.” She takes him to the kitchen and offers to make tea, but he declines. He is visibly nervous and embarrassed and for a moment Heather wonders if it is anything to do with her. “Spit it out,” she says, maybe sharper than she intended because he flinches.

“I need your help. I…” He swallows and tries again, raising his right wrist where he wears the dampener.  

“Just why didn’t you unblock them for good yet?“ Heather asks, getting tired of his evasiveness. She can guess, but really, he can grow up and admit things. “You already know it won’t make you explode.”

For a moment, it seems Genis might try to just flee, then he looks up and looks her straight in the eye. “Because I’m scared. But if I have to, I will. Only, I’ve been having nightmares and if that happens when my powers are back, I could hurt someone. So, could you go into my head and lock the dream up?”

Heather frowns. “You do control your powers. You just proved that. And contrary to what people might think, I’m not exactly eager to look into adolescent heads.”

Genis grits his teeth. “I know it is pathetic to be so frightened of a stupid dream. But I don’t know what I might unconsciously do when I dream it. I’ll deal with this when everyone is back and when we can spare the time. I promise.”

He says this quite fast, but his gaze doesn’t waver. There’s some self-loathing in his voice, and genuine fear.

Suddenly, Heather feels a pang of shame, something that is starting to lose its novelty. She reaches out and lays her hand on his, recognizing some of the same mixture of bravery and defiance of her judgment that Phyla showed her on Equivox. “It is not pathetic to ask for help. It takes courage.” She tries for an encouraging smile but feels it turn lopsided as she adds wryly, “And I should know, because I all too often lacked it.”

Genis’s eyes widen, but to his credit he doesn’t comment.

On impulse, she says softly: “I am sorry, for all the wrongs I did you. I should never have judged you so harshly, I should have…”

“Stop, please.” Genis blushes crimson and looks away. “Really. It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” Heather puts her fingertips under his chin and makes him look at her. “But I will stop. And I will help you with the nightmare.” Something tells her that she already can guess what it is about and she doesn’t really want Mar-Vell to catch her in the head of his other child, too. Still, nothing to be done about that. At least, she is not about to make him relive it, just hide it better.

“You should not feel a thing and I will not pry,” she tries to reassure him, before diving right in. 

The nightmare is easy to find. It squats in Genis’s mind, like a huge ugly spider in a web spun of darkness. Each strand connects to another memory, and it radiates feelings, pain mostly, but also guilt and fear and shame. A bloody mess, in other words.

One strand stands out, thicker, more violently pulsating than the others. For a moment she wonders what to do. It would be easy enough to slay the spider and cut the threads. Except, dreams like this are there for a reason. A way of the mind to deal with buried things. If she kills it, she might prevent him from ever actually moving past the pain and starting the healing process. So she merely imprisons it behind walls of solid steel, and shrouds it in fog, so there will be nothing to touch and wiggle like a sore tooth.

The strands, that is harder. The web of memory that makes up Genis’s life is complex and yet so simple and small. Too simple, because he is only a few years old, without the time it takes to actually build up the architecture, still too new and open to deal with so many of the things that happened to him. How can you rely on good memories to balance the bad when you had no time to make them? No time to give yourself weight?

In the real world, Heather takes Genis’s hand again, squeezing it gently.

In the mindscape, there is no way to avoid that she will have to interfere with the web in some ways. The thick strand, darkness and blood, she recognizes this one as she follows it to the source. She has seen this before, in Phyla’s mind, where it was a coil of barbed wire, lodged deep in a raw wound. Here, it is buried, frozen in black ice, but the ice is cracking.

As she runs immaterial fingers over it, sealing the cracks, it’s almost unbearable. So cold. Once more, she wraps it in silk and fog, cocooning it, isolating it. She cannot allow herself to feel too much empathy, because Genis will notice what she feels in his mind, and it would certainly distress him. So she forces herself to remain calm, while she goes through the other strands, muting them. Loosening the emotional connections, so they won’t trigger new nightmares.

It takes longer than she expected, and when she finally feels it is safe to leave, she is stiff all over. She still holds Genis’s hand and he is looking at her with wide eyes.

“You're crying,” he says, sounding astonished.

Chapter Text

Knowing that the plan they have is the best they will come up with at such short notice, and that Genis is the logical choice for who will stay behind, doesn’t make leaving him all that much easier. Nor does knowing that she can’t treat him like he needs constant supervision, for the matter. But all of this doesn’t mean she won’t do it.

“Everything will be fine,” Genis says, just as Melissa voices the same sentiment. They look at each other than, and despite everything, start laughing.

Genis leans down and kisses her cheek. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t get hurt.”

His hands are on her shoulders first, but he moves them lower, so they caress her back. Melissa reaches up to his face, her fingers brushing against his cheeks.

“I’ll do my best,” she says and catches his lips with another kiss. “We’ll bring your sister back.”

“I know,” Genis says. Their heads are inches away still, and it looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t get a chance. There’s a flash and when they turn around, Hallie happily shows them the screen of her phone.

“We should make a meme with you,” she says and giggles.

“Shoo,” Melissa replies. “No memes.”

“Add the heart effect,” Norbert says, as he peers over Hallie’s shoulder. Fortunately, Erik decides to interfere and herds them both into the ship.

Melissa looks at Genis, who is between looking somewhat spooked and amused. Clearly, no going back to the mood from moments before, but then she supposes there’s still the possibility of a less amusing audience to catch them.

“We won’t take long,” she says and brushes her fingers against his cheek, before stepping away. They share another look before she tells herself to stop stalling and finally retreats into the ship. 

Una watches the screen as the two ships from Earth leave the system. Behind her, Genis is watching the readings as well. She turns to look at him and notes how tense he looks—not that he is difficult to read in most other circumstances.

“So, your sister is probably a much better sibling then Zey,” she says. It’s not exactly going to stop him from fretting, but she can’t really think of what else she could say.

Genis shrugs. “She’s…” He trails off. “The one who wasn’t causing problems.”

“You have an interesting idea of not causing problems,” Una answers. This is going to be a thorny subject, she guesses, noting the non-answer. “But I guess being the good child was just a phase for her, given she is causing all sorts of trouble now.”

“I don’t know,” Genis replies and falls silent.

“You were not close, then,” Una says, still finding no way to switch the subject to less complicated grounds.

She isn’t even surprised when the answer is another shrug.

“If you want me to leave off, just tell me?” Una tries again.

Genis sighs, rather theatrically. “Well, there is one thing she has in common with Zey. Like he did with you, she once left me to die, because I wasn’t worth saving.” His voice is bitter, and he clamps his hand over his mouth as if shocked by what came out of it.

“Sorry I asked,” she mutters, before wishing she was a better person and could just get up and hug him. The only encouragement she can think of is “We both survived.”

“Yeah,” he says, as if only noticing now. 

Atlas lets out a whistle, once the image of Star of Vengeance appears on their screens. There is a hole, one that looks like a meteor had torn through the ship. A force field is spread over it, and inside it, there a scaffoldings and tiny lights, where the Kree are doing the most basic field repairs.

“Being a weapon of mass destruction runs in the family, it seems,” Moonstone comments.

Carol considers saying something about tact, but since Karla Sofen is a lost cause, she glances at Mar-Vell to see how he’s taking it. He looks stunned. Carol puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, lightly, but she doesn't really know what to say.

“Tactful, Karla,” Melissa sighs. “Can you start getting ready? You need to bring me and Erik to the surface soon.”

“We are receiving a transmission,” Harrison interrupts. “Not a hail, a general broadcast, to whom it may concern.”

“Put it on the screen,” Mar-Vell says tensely.

The screen flickers in response.

Carol feels like she might as well not be there. Mar-Vell is so focused, even his stoic face can't hide the muscles of his jaw being clenched so hard that they stand out like ropes. Once the transmission comes up, she realises he was expecting something like this.

The screen shows something like an amphitheatre. There is a bench of important looking people in uniforms, someone wearing the garb of an Accuser standing around on the floor of the theatre. The ranks are filled with people who look like citizens of all walks of life.

Beside the Accuser there is a chair with a lot of electronic devices attached to it. The camera moves from the tableau to an entrance on the floor of the theatre which opens, admitting five heavily armed soldiers leading a person in chains. Carol has never seen her, but from Mar-Vell's and Moondragon's reaction, this is Phyla-vell. She is wearing a purple jumpsuit and holds herself straight, her expression cold and emotionless. Not defiant, stoic. Her father's daughter, in other words. Her steps are slow, not faltering, but she is clearly in pain. Her head has been shaved.

They lead her towards the chair.

An announcer begins a voice over to the broadcast, which is in Kree, but it doesn't look like anybody has a problem understanding it.

“Accused of treason stands Phyla-vell, daughter of the traitor Mar-Vell, under the assumed title of Captain Marvel.”

As the guards proceed to place Phyla in the chair, she says something, but Carol's lip reading is rusty and she cannot follow it. The guard's answer causes her to nod grimly.

“Is this live?” Mar-Vell asks grimly.

“Negative,” Harrison replies. “This is a recording which has been put on loop.”

“Turn it off.” He turns around, shrugging off Carol's hand. “Let us get this done.”

Chapter Text

Surreptitiously, Norbert downloads the blueprints of the Kree dreadnaught. Given that after he and Abe were dismantling it from the inside, no Kree would ever want them anywhere near another one, he doesn’t feel any guilt about it. He won’t learn anything from watching its debris, after all.

But he is no romantic, and he will not make any silly claims of feeling physical pain or other such nonsense, as he reprograms the turrets overlooking one of the main computer clusters to target the hull instead of intruders.

Just next to him, Abe sets a control panel to fry itself once they leave the location, while the Winter Soldier and Hallie watch for Kree soldiers. They have been harassing them all the way, but with all the firepower Abe’s armour can unleash and Jolt’s bioelectricity, they are not yet too hard pressed. It may well change, so Norbert breaks away from the control panel as soon as the turrets are reprogramed.

“Where to, oh great leader?” he asks.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t answer right away. He has a faraway look for a few seconds and then he nods—Norbert guesses he was checking with Moondragon and Captain Marvel. “There’s a control centre for one of the defence grids nearby—we should disable that.”

He takes point then and checks if there’s no one outside in the hallway. Then he motions for them to follow him as he trots briskly in the direction of the control centre presumably. They take a few turns, until they are met with resistance.

Almost organically, directed by small hand motions and short commands from the Winter Soldier, Hallie and Abe disable them. Kree are sturdier than humans, but a shock will still knock them out, something that Hallie makes full use of. It still costs them time, and the soldiers keep on coming.

Norbert really hopes that Karla, Melissa and Erik are using the time they’re buying for them well.  

“At which point did you intend to tell me about Phyla deciding to paint a giant target on herself?” Mar-Vell says testily, once everyone is on their way.

Moondragon looks at Carol Danvers, but she is monitoring the advances of the other groups and ignoring them. Or maybe enjoying the show.

“You are cosmically aware. Do you expect me to tell you everything?” Ok, she probably should have told him. Except even thinking about it makes her want to hit her head against something hard. With a sigh, she adds: “They all did it? Genis was Captain Marvel, too, for an extended amount of time. It seems to be a phase.”

He rolls his eyes, proving that he seems to be taking lessons in sarcasm from the other Captain Marvel. This is getting confusing. “Look, I did not think it was of any great importance. She wanted to make an impact. She did. Who cares about the name?”

“Apparently, the Kree do, otherwise they would not bother with a show trial like that?”

Moondragon feels like she is only getting a quarter of the message and that tells her how much she is used to reading the surface thoughts of pretty much everyone, except chronically paranoid Kree. “I was surprised myself. She did it at some point, but I thought she had grown out of it. All our travails in the last few years were about her deciding she wanted to find out who she is beyond being your daughter. And now she snapped right back.”

Mar-Vell shakes his head. “I can't tell you. You know her much better than I do. But I can tell you why it makes the Kree Empire react this way. If you are even interested, given it does not concern you.”

So, even he can suffer from nerves. 

Karla Sofen is not exactly happy with being designated transport, but she can see why this is the smartest solution. Her ability to phase not only herself but everyone around her is one of her least flashy or public ones and according to their Kree ‘experts’ it’s likely not something that can be dug up from a database.

So, they float down, past the damaged dreadnought and the remnants of a planetary shield – its emitters having been thoroughly fried. Going by this, it looks far likelier that they have to save the Kree from Mar-Vell’s daughter rather than the other way around. Everything she sees tells her this is not merely someone who wields considerable power, but also who is resourceful and fighting dirty.

The fried gun emplacements around the space port attest to that.

“Hm, I could start to like this girl,” she says, more to get a rise out of Songbird than anything else.

It doesn’t work, though. “Good thing then that we are going to rescue her,” is the only answer. 

Prisons look alike everywhere. Blocky, ugly, grey, ‘keep away’ personified in a building. It makes Erik’s stomach clench. It has been far too short since he was inside one. It clearly was too much to ask for that he never sets foot in one again.

There are a few differences, of course—most prisons on Earth don’t have a force field around them, for one. The signs have writing in Kree alphabet, though Erik guesses they say something like “Prison, keep out”.

Melissa takes stock and nods at Karla. Even though the upper half of her face is hidden by her mask, Erik can guess she is scowling now. She makes no comments though and they start sinking into the ground. He has to fight a wave of panic when his head is submerged and he is in the dark.

Being at someone’s mercy like this, where they could easily leave him behind helplessly trapped, is something he hopes to never have to repeat once this is all over. Minutes, or maybe hours pass, until they re-emerge. 

Phyla can see why gloating is a stereotypical villain trait. There’s very little that gives you more of an instant loathing of another person than them badmouthing you and everyone you care for while you are chained to a bed. If she ever gets out of here alive, she is going to kill this guy. And she isn’t very sure it’s just a phrase. The High Pursuer did not indulge in this simpleminded coward’s way of triumph. Yon-Rogg, the bastard who tried so hard to have her father disgraced and killed, is.

Maybe setting him to command the prison’s defences against the inevitable attempt at rescue is another way of torturing her into submission? Or maybe offering her the chance to kick him where it hurts might turn out an efficient bribe to change sides. No, not really.

For all that Yon-Rogg whines about how every stupid thing he did is somehow the fault of either her father, or her brother, or somehow both, the person she really intends to kill the moment she can stand without spitting blood, remains the High Pursuer. She isn’t even sure why. Him, she just tunes him out. Now, his ranting is just like static on a broken radio, with the occasional understandable word.

So far, the list of grievances involves not scoring with a medic, who apparently was not all that hard to score with; not scoring with someone named Carol Danvers; getting nearly killed because of said Carol Danvers. There seems to be a theme of not scoring with attractive women going on there.

While she ponders this, Yon-Rogg decides to make a detour in favour of lamenting the fate of his son. Well, she knows how that went down. And for once, she is entirely in favour of her brother’s decisions.

“My brother can blow up planets,” Phyla informs him when he stops ranting for a few moments to take a breath. “And your son was a suicidal idiot. He would have been perfectly fine, if he had left Genis alone.”

“It does not surprise me that you know so little of honour,” Yon-Rogg replies, and Phyla tunes him out again, until she notices he's now going on about his daughter and Genis in a context that seems to imply some closeness. Her first reaction is a groan that she suppresses—really, she could have safely won bets that Genis would manage to find himself a girlfriend minutes after recovering from death, and of course it's going to be the daughter of this particular whiny bastard, and then she realizes what she is thinking.

This is unfair of her—what would someone like Yon-Rogg actually know? And even if it is the case, why should she begrudge Genis?

Then, the alarm starts blaring and Yon-Rogg shuts up, and runs off, cursing. Somehow, she’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to stand outside her cell and berate her instead of doing some actual commanding. She didn’t want to be rescued, but just for the respite it gives her, she feels almost grateful.

She strains her hearing for the inevitable explosions, and her eyes for the flicker that announces the energy cutting out. Nothing happens. It takes her a while to realise this. Except the alarm making her headache worse, there are no sounds. Is this a mistake? She’d have expected a rescue involving her brother to be much, much louder.

Melissa signals Erik and Karla to wait, before walking through the wall of the cell, where, according to their cosmic intel, they are keeping Phyla. There are no guards before the door, but alarms are blaring and getting out is probably going to be very funny. ‘Let’s not scare her, ok? She’s probably jumpy.’

The slim, young woman chained to the bed doesn’t look like Genis at all. Only the blue eyes, huge in a pale, bruised face, are the same, except even now they are fierce and defiant, not scared or shocked. The pupils are also wide despite the glaring lights in the cell, so she’s clearly drugged. She’s wearing the purple prison suit from the transmission, her wrists and ankles bruised and bloody because she’s been constantly worrying at her bonds, apparently without noticing the pain.

“I’m Songbird. I’m here to rescue you.” Rick Jones is a terrible influence.

“It’s a trap.” Phyla takes it all in stride, while Melissa sets to breaking the locks on the cuffs with her solid sound lockpicks. She could have shattered them but doesn’t want to risk hurting the other woman. No matter what Genis said about her, right now she just seems helpless and in need of succour. Whatever is between them can wait until she looks like she’s only not dead because nobody brought that to her attention.

“Of course.” She reaches out to help Phyla sit up and is brushed off. “I’m not alone. We’ll get you out the way I came in.”

“Won’t work. There's a bomb—planted in the back of my head. It'll go off, if I use my powers, the High Pursuer activates it, or if I leave this room.” She rubs her wrists, then wiggles her feet, as if trying to find out if they still belong to her. “I might have figured out to survive it, but nothing around me will.”

“Might doesn’t sound like the kind of odds that I’d want to gamble on,” Melissa notes. “What kind of bomb is it?” She sends a sub vocal notice to Karla to come in, because they’ll need her. There’s only so much you can do with solid sound constructs.

Chapter Text

Karla doesn’t like what she is seeing—not the bruises or the blood. That is unpleasant, but expected. No, what she doesn’t like is how the young woman is looking at them. There’s a kind of slow-burning desperate anger about her that usually means someone is about to do something stupid, and apparently, getting herself into this mess was not stupid enough for Phyla-Vell yet.

Well, perhaps they can make sure there will be none of that.

She listens as the young woman explains in more detail about the bomb the Kree have placed at the back of her head, noting that she sounds too matter-of-fact. Controlled.

“I can contain the explosion,” Karla says. “If your plan works, that should be fine.” Yes, she gets it, this is a really big if.

Melissa ought to stop treating her as stupid, but apparently she can’t restrain from pointing out: “I’m just not sure it will work. And we are not going to risk that.”

Thank you, Miss Obvious.

“Then I hope you have a lot of time, because that bomb is not going to run out of energy soon,” the girl snaps.

“I thought you were an energy sponge?” Karla swallows a sigh. Sometimes, riling people up produces good results, but in this case a softer touch is needed. “Can’t you drain it?”

“That was my plan. But I have to put that energy somewhere, and a really big explosion works best.” So the girl is smart, when she’s not addled by drugs or fury.

“Except that explosion is going to happen in your brain,” Melissa points out. “Where your energy absorption might not be fast enough.”

“Do you have another plan?” Stubborn. Getting the bit between her teeth and running off in one direction. It doesn’t look like she inherited that trait from her father, who seems far more the strategist and diplomat. And the brother is a mouse. Although… Since Mar-Vell likes Danvers, and most men always go for the same type of woman, Phyla has probably inherited it from her mother.

“Actually, I do,” Melissa answers with the focused expression. “We will need to time it well, but I think I can vibrate the bomb ever so slightly, to shake the tendrils in your tissue loose enough for Moonstone to just make the bomb intangible and move it out of you. Then, she needs to make us both intangible and get us out of this cell, since I’m fairly sure it will blow up soon after, and definitely once we are out of range for her to keep it intangible.”

Phyla-Vell simply stares. Karla feels a certain disappointment that she won’t be able to film this and send it to Titan. That would teach them about trying to get out things out of someone without their permission.

“It will be my pleasure,” she says, and earns herself a very suspicious look from Melissa. Sometimes, the girl is too sharp.

Out of all the people who have to know her this well…

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Phyla-vell asks, squaring her shoulders. “Do it.”

“Hold on,” Melissa replies and sits down beside her. “Sorry. I need to keep my mouth as close as I can. And I can’t send the vibration through the air.” And then, she kisses Phyla-vell’s cheek. 

One of the many facts crammed into Phyla’s head by ISAAC is that the brain cannot feel pain. It’s something that sounds like glarking glark to everyone who every had a headache. Certainly her head hurts in enough interesting ways now to bitterly laugh at the idea.

Except, despite the pink-haired girl—if only she remembered where she’d seen her—and the fierce blonde removing a bomb from her brain, she doesn’t feel a thing. Everything else, all her bruises and cuts and every breath into her abused lungs hurt like blazes still, but the inside of her head merely gets dizzy and weird. Sometimes, an electric sensation runs up the dome of her skull, making what little hair she still has stand on end.

Things happen in flashes from then on. They don’t phase out, but do something close enough to it, out of the cell, and are joined by a massive red-haired man. He manages to give her a concerned look, before the wall explodes and a Kree sentry shows up to brighten their day.

A pink ball springs up around them, while the pink-haired girl hums and that’s when Phyla’s abused brain finally does make the connection. Both the woman and the girl had been to Titan once. And the girl had been all over her brother then.

Phyla isn’t sure what to think—a part of her is shocked because… because the girl is obviously smart and then there’s the fact that maybe Genis had not picked up Yon-Rogg’s daughter after all, and that means she might be meeting her brother soon.

With a hole in her head.

That probably tops anything he managed, ever.

The fact that Yon-Rogg himself shows up barely registers, until the girl drops the barrier and the red-haired man has suddenly grown into a giant. He grapples with the sentry, while the blonde shoots at Yon-Rogg.

Who, in true moron of a bastard fashion is ranting about her brother and father again.

“Oh will you shut up?” Phyla finally snaps. “Nobody cares! My brother apparently now goes for women with a functioning brain, which I doubt your daughter has.” She omits the fact that since it’s Genis, he might be just sleeping with both of them, because it a. occurs to her that she’s slipping into bad habits and b. the look the pink-haired girl is giving her is not exactly friendly.

That’s when Yon-Rogg notices Songbird, and spits another diatribe of vitriol into her direction. A monster features in it and then lots of slurs of her parentage and sexual conduct. Instead of angry or hurt the young woman looks almost tired. Then she flattens him with one of her pink constructs. He makes a tiny noise like a mouse being trodden on and stops moving.

Except it isn’t going to help. They are cornered, Sentries piling on them, troops being ferried in and then Phyla notices Tanalth watching them from a floating battle platform…

Chapter Text

Sitting by a comatose man is not exactly Rick’s favourite pastime. For one, it’s boring. The ticking of the machines is like the countdown of the universe – hm, that might make a passable title for a song. He feels tempted to take out his phone and play something, it just doesn’t feel right. So, he decides to work on his song, except he keeps getting distracted by the silent presence in front of him.

He looks down on Eros. He remembers him, of course. From Titan, from various Avenger gatherings and from the first, terrible encounter with Thanos. It is hard to reconcile the still form with the warrior who fought that monster, or with the charming flirt who had all the female Avengers giggling like school girls. And it is hard to believe that he and Thanos are both Mentor's sons.

"Well, I guess it sucked to have Thanos as a brother," Rick says to break the silence. "Just how often did he try to kill you? I mean, I personally remember like three attempts ..." He stops himself. "I guess that wouldn’t be a topic you’d like to talk about."

He sighs. It is hard to pretend that this situation isn’t getting to him. It’s not like Eros of Titan was his best friend or anything. And apparently Marv is rather pissed at the guy. But even a pissed off Marv will still ask him to play Florence Nightingale.

"Really, I am not the right person for this. I have no bedside manner, just ask Genis."

"He’ll be afraid if he wakes. Nobody can be scared of you." It had been a mistake to voice that sentiment in the presence of the other Captain Marvel. The one without tact.

"You are safe." After checking if he is really alone, Rick reaches out and lays his hand on the Eternal's. "I don’t know if you can hear me. But I’m here. It’s alright. And if you wake up, I know where Carol has hidden the chocolate.” He squeezes the cold fingers gently and looks up, half hoping the machines will register some sign he has been heard.

Except all they show is the various reading falling slowly. “Damn.” He gets up, looking for an intercom. “Uuuuuuuunaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

It happens all of a sudden. Mar-Vell freezes up mid-sentence and stares off into space, his body rigid. Moondragon can see the muscles on his jaw and neck stand out like ropes. His hand twitches, and then he leans over the controls of the ship. Before Moondragon can react, or even registers fully what happens, his fingers are darting over the control panel, entering the code that will uncloak the ship.

She strikes, fast and true, her fist connecting with his shoulder hard, but it's too late. The stealth module is disengaged, and when Mar-Vell turns his eyes are wide with horror. He is still resisting whatever it is that has him in his grips. Shivers pass through his muscles, and for a moment, he stands frozen, and it almost seems like he might break free on will alone.

And then whatever it is, seems to win the upper hand and he starts walking over to the controls, where he could deactivate the shields, too. He’s staggering, because being Mar-Vell, he is still resisting, so Moondragon has no problem stopping him. She dives, and kicks his legs from beneath him, and when he stumbles she calls out to Carol Danvers, who is already leaping to action.

“Something is controlling him!”

There is a moment afterwards, when Heather almost feels sorry for the High Pursuer. Almost. Carol’s fury is like a burning nova—hot and bright and demanding action. She doesn’t act on it, though. Only leaps on Mar-Vell and holds him down. “Do something!” she yells through clenched teeth, while the Kree struggles against her, but to no avail.

“On it.” Moondragon reaches out to Mar-Vell’s mind. She knows this will be a challenge. Not only because she had not sensed—still is not sensing—the psychic assault, but also because Mar-Vell will be resisting her as much as he is resisting whatever the other telepathic attack is. Except she feels no attack at all. “This is no telepath! I can’t sense it.”

Carol slams Mar-Vell into the floor. For a moment she looks utterly clueless, while her lover goes limp. She doesn’t slacken her grip though. Which is wise, since Moondragon notes he is playing possum.

More on instinct than any clear plan she raises shields around them – if whatever it is gets turned on Captain Marvel, they are all toast - as thick and hard as she can, and finally feels something.

It's formless, and mindless, like a slithering worm crawling over her shield. It should not feel like this—she had made them concrete and iron, but whatever it is, it is powerful, and it tries to slip in, find a weakness. “It’s technological. Mindless.”

“The God’s Whisper!” Danvers roars. “They rebuilt it. Find Tanalth, and you will find the cursed thing.”

That’s easy, because at this moment she feels Phyla roaring with fury, blazing through the static of the desperate fight on the planet. When did this go south so badly? But following Phyla’s thoughts, she finds Tanalth, and while the Grand-High Pursuers mental shields are impressive, Moondragon is in no mood to be subtle. 

For a moment, it looks like it will all go south even worse than it did so far, because Phyla-Vell roars in rage and manifests a shining silver energy blade. Her skin flickers blue and black, and the livid scar on her face becomes a window into the heart of a sun, glowing so white it makes Melissa look away. The young woman is about to charge off, ignoring the blood that starts to stain the front of her suit and starts bubbling from her mouth and nose.

Melissa screams helplessly, trying to cut her off with a sound barrier only to see it cleaved in two with that shining weapon. “Come back, don’t be a fool!”

Of course, she doesn’t listen, do they ever?

That’s when Moonstone floats down in front of the girl. A gesture turns her intangible, throwing her charge off course. But it’s the woman’s words that bring her up short. “So, clearly you have even less brains than your brother. At least he understands what ‘live to fight another day’ means.”

A shiver passes through the girl, and the energy flares again. The bleeding stops miraculously. “It’s Tanalth. We won’t get out of here if she’s not taken out.”

Moonstone turns and fires a burst at the battle plattform. Shields flicker, but she pours it on and then they fail. Controls smoking, the thing starts listing. Then a huge form crashes through the smoke and lands on the ground with a thud. It’s a gigantic blue Kree woman, who lifts her hammer in challenge.

Tanalth the Pursuer is probably the biggest woman Melissa has seen. Not just tall and athletic—the Kree actually looms. Not many people manage that. She glares at them, as she readjusts her grip on the huge hammer and then, just as it seems like she’s about to join the fray, she screams.

This is their chance—the troops stop and turn towards their leader. The Sentries do not get distracted, but they still get enough reprieve to regroup.

“Moonstone, can you take out the leg of the middle Sentry?” she asks. “And push it back.”

Karla, thankfully, does so without any comments. It’s still something of a surprise when she accepts orders from Melissa, but she is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth and question it.

And just as the Sentry falls, she hears Moondragon’s voice in her head. +I’ve no time to explain—you need to destroy this thing-+ And an image of some sort of a device appears in Melissa’s mind, along with information where to find it. +Hurry up! I’ll keep Tanalth occupied.+

She looks at Phyla-Vell, whose expression is set in a stubborn scowl. “I’ll be fine,” she says through gritted teeth. It’s a blatant lie, but…

The location Moondragon gave them is miles away. Only one chance.

“Moonstone, get us out of here!”

Chapter Text

The ship gleams in the sun. Eros is inside, his vitals steady again. Genis had needed to transfer more energy, but now the Eternal can continue recovering. His body used up the energy Genis transferred before to heal some of his injuries, but he had begun to run out. Fortunately, that was easily remedied.

The transfusion done, the Eternal is still not showing any signs of waking up, and it is something which makes Genis feel relieved and guilty about it.

It isn’t that he expects Eros to be ungrateful or hostile from the start, but he knows how their interactions go. At some point, Genis will say something and suddenly, Eros will flip from friendly to biting.

At least right now, all of those things seem like they happened to someone else, thanks to whatever Moondragon has done in his head. All of a sudden, he can think about so many things without feeling anything but second-hand embarrassment or sympathy.

It is somewhat weird, whenever he catches himself realizing he is thinking about himself.

Or Eros. Like the time Genis’s mother sent him to talk him out of fighting with Nitro, and he had no idea what to do. That seems to have been a running theme, now that he thinks about it. It’s a bit puzzling because Genis is fairly sure that being high-maintenance is not one of his faults.

With a sigh, he stretches out on the sand and closes his eyes.

Rick doesn’t need him right now. Eros certainly doesn’t need him and won’t need him if he wakes up. And Una is doing her stuff. Whatever it is. So all he has to do-

A shadow falls over his face, and suddenly he realizes just how hot he is feeling.

"I know there is trouble when you start acting like a hedgehog", Una says, sighing theatrically. "You are Kree, not human, and pinks don't tan. So, either you go into the ship and or you stop being silly and come with me into the shade. Before I have to explain to your father how I let you boil your skin off."

Genis frowns, and indeed, it feels sort of unpleasant. Ok, now he knows another side effect of his powers he never thought of before. He tries a smile, which feels rather stiff. "Alright, alright. I guess I can't manage a single day without being dumb in some way."

She pulls him to his feet, and starts to drag him towards the forest. "Happens." She stumbles and he catches her, while she curses up a very blue storm. "Look at me, wearing these shoes. I'm at least as dumb as you."

Genis chuckles and easily lifts her on his arms. She is heavier than Melissa, but his natural hybrid strength easily handles the weight. "Better?"

"Don't give me ideas, you silly boy." She pouts, at the same time looking very alluring and very childish.

"I'm not a boy."

"Compared to me, you are."

Since even he knows that asking a woman about her age is frowned upon in many cultures, he shuts up and carries her back to the forest.

Pride is all fine and good, except when you cannot afford it anymore. Standing is more of an effort than Phyla would like to admit, and flying is right out. So she only raises a token protest when the tall man picks her up like a child.

With Tanalth advancing through the smoke, casually shattering the energy shields the two women keep creating, it would be dumb to make more trouble than she already did, given they are trying to save her ass.

The blonde – Moonstone – gestures, and then they all start sinking into the ground. The sensation is terrifying, and she clings to the giant, who tries to reassure her. “It’s fine, Karla knows what she’s doing.”

“I hope so.” Songbird clearly isn’t all that convinced. “Move us north, about three miles, and then up again.”

“Just why? Will it make a prettier scenery for our last stand?” Both women can’t stand each other, yet keep cooperating.

There’s probably a lesson there, Phyla thinks.

“They have a weapon there, we need to destroy it, before our transport gets totalled. So, speed up.”

They are silent, and Phyla finally manages to sort her thoughts enough to ask questions. “Did my father send you?”

The pinkhaired girl nods. “We’re here to help.”

“What about Heather?” Seeing that the name doesn’t ring a bell, she amends: “Moondragon?”

“She’s fine.”

 “And Eros? Is he…” She doesn’t dare to voice her fears.

 “Recovering. They figured out a way to help him.”

She should probably ask who ‘they’ are, but the relief washes over her like a wave. Her stubborn resolve cracks and then the night swallows her.

“We need to get her patched up,” Erik says, as soon as they are at their goal. Melissa nods, as she tries to find the device Moondragon had wanted them to destroy. The directions led them to an underground facility, full of computer banks. There weren’t many troops here, but they cost them more time. And they have little time for anything—Tanalth, the Sentries and the rest of the soldiers will be on them any moment now.

Why couldn’t they just have left it on the table?

Just as she is seriously starting to consider starting to yell and thrashing the whole place, Karla tears open a computer bank. An alien looking monstrosity squats inside. It’s bigger than she had expected it to be.

“Did Moondragon tell you how to destroy it?” Erik asks.

Melissa shakes her head and tries to think loudly. No response comes—clearly, Moondragon is too busy to give them advice.

“Atlas, smash it,” she says as she takes several steps back.

Erik grows as large as the room permits and locks his fists. He punches down, denting the casing. “It’s tough,” he notes, before proceeding to pummel it.

“Just step on it, will you?” Karla snarls, turning her power on him, making him even heavier. This seems to do the trick, and not a moment too soon. The ground starts to shake just as the device cracks.

Their cloaking disabled, the Star of Vengeance opens fire with those of her guns that are still operational. Which are still too many. With Carol Danvers busy keeping Mar-Vell from hurting himself, Heather has to fly evasive manoeuvres. It works surprisingly well until she notices they aren’t being targeted for real. They are being herded, towards the planet and the rising flight of Starfighters closing in on them.

“What do I do?”

 “Can’t you mind#### them? There should be people in there!” Clearly, once you target her boyfriend, the moral objections go out the window, fast.

“Not all at once, without seeing them. And with concentrating on flying.”

Before more sharp words can be exchanged, the pressure on Heather’s shield disappears.

Mar-Vell goes slack, before starting to shake. Immediately Carol Danvers lets go and cradles him in her arms, murmuring soothing nonsense.

Moondragon breathes out a sigh of relief, but they aren’t out of the woods yet. Harrison’s shields flare under the fire of the Starfighters, while the Star of Vengeance turns her guns on the planet.

She had known that Tanalth would not be idle as they searched for the God’s Whisper, but she had not expected her to call for an orbital strike so close to her position.

Frantically, she reaches out with her mind and tries to sense Phyla. It takes a moment—seconds stretched thin and filled with panic—until she locates her. She’s unconscious but alive.

But for how long?

+Get out of there!+ she screams at Moonstone, Songbird and Atlas, before turning to Carol Danvers and Mar-Vell. The latter is still curled up, while Carol seems to be read to breathe fire. “ We are getting slaughtered! Can you do something about those fighters?”

“Leave them to me,” she says, and runs for the airlock.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the Star falls silent.

Chapter Text

With the compound collapsed over them, running is sort of futile. True, Karla can phase them out again, but before she brings them out, they need to make sure Phyla-vell is at least stable. Fortunately, in their search for the God’s Whisper, they had also found a first aid kit.

Karla shooed her and Erik away, before setting to work, since she was the only person who understood Kree and the MD. Melissa didn’t feel inclined to remind her that she had a degree in psychiatry and that SHIELD also gave its agents first aid courses.

There isn’t all that much they can do, other than patching the wound at the back of Phyla-Vell’s head and checking for any other damage. Of which there seems to be plenty. Her chest is bandaged, although by now the dressing is soaked with blood and ought to be changed. And if that’s not enough, her breathing is uneven. Frowning, Moonstone wraps more bandages around the young woman’s chest. After a moment, she stops and murmurs something, her lips quirking into a very sardonic smile.

“So, how is she?” Melissa asks, running out of patience with Karla’s secretiveness. “Can you wake her up so she can help us get out of here?”

Karla shakes her head. “Waking her would be a risk. Medically speaking, she’s running on spite, lucky genes and nothing else.”

Which isn’t at all helpful, given that she’s unconscious now and that means can’t put the effort into clinging to life just to prove everyone wrong.

“I really hope we didn’t come here for nothing,” Erik says, glancing at the heap of rubble that smashed in the door. Then he winces as he realizes what he had just said. “I mean- I hope she doesn’t die.”

“Whatever her lucky genes give her, it’s also working with her passed out,” Karla answers. “At least for now. She won’t die on us, unless we use her as a shield.”

“That would defeat the purpose of coming to save her, wouldn’t it?” Melissa replies dryly. “Can you get us out of here?”

Karla rolls her eyes then. “Please. I got you in, I will get you out.” 

Norbert is bent over a screen, trying to stop the bombardment, when suddenly realization hits him. He had been reprogramming various bits of the internal defence grid to attack the ship and its crew; he had been playing with little pieces of the whole, but that’s like sending a gnat after an elephant. Annoying, yes, but ineffective.

Action follows thought. Norbert has access to the ship’s AI, to its firewalls and defences. It may be advanced, it may be alien, but that makes it a challenge. And what is he without something to challenge him?

He is half-way there, when Abe catches onto what he is doing.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks.

Norbert flashes him a grin. “Trust me.”

“What have you gotten us into?” the Winter Soldier says, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Norbert can’t stop grinning now, as he finishes his work. “Nothing. I just took over the ship.”

His statement is met with disbelieving silence, so he feels obliged to demonstrate that he did in fact accomplish this. He keys a few commands, and the bombardment stops. The ship starts moving. The internal defences power up and start targeting the Kree troops. And, because he feels like it, he traps a Kree colonel with a brush-like moustache in a toilet.

“Really?” the Winter Soldier sighs.

Norbert flashes him a grin. “He looks like my gym coach.” 

In the shade, Genis puts Una down. “Really, I don’t think those shoes are any smarter in a forest, either.”

“I’m fine.” She starts walking ahead of him, and indeed seems to have little trouble with the uneven ground. “I’ve been wearing shoes like this since I was old enough to discover men staring at my butt.”

“Why do you do this?” He asks. He has not been staring at her butt. He was watching her feet, fascinated that women would subject themselves to agility exercises like that in the name of whatever.

“Do what?”

“Talk about yourself like you are nothing but a pair of legs and…” He draws two spherical shapes over his chest. “You aren’t like that. Why are you treating yourself that way?”

Una stops abruptly and then slowly turns around. He expects her to be furious, but her face is thoughtful. “You are… rather insightful. Sure your powers are still blocked?”

Genis frowns. “Cosmic awareness never helped me with things like that. I’m not sure about understanding people most of the time, but I do know you by now and I know that you are not shallow. Almost nobody ever is.”

She takes his hand and leads him to a rock where they can sit down. “Probably not. But sometimes what is hidden underneath a seemingly shallow person is something that should stay hidden. Genis, I’m a bad person. I tried to kill you and that was only the last of my many crimes.”

She’s crying and she doesn’t even notice. He remembers her bearding Ronan the Accuser like there was no tomorrow and thinking about it now, maybe that was what was behind it. Lashing out in all directions in the hope that someone would put an end to her guilt and fear? Wasn’t that what he has done, too?

“I… Do you want me to hug you? You’re crying.” Somehow, given the topic of what they were talking about, it doesn’t feel right to just touch her.

“You really are too nice for this world,” she half-sobs. “Yes, please.” She buries her face in his chest as he wraps his arms around her and holds her.

“I’m not. I have done bad things, too.”

“But I tried to kill you. And you tried to save from the bloodhounds, saved me from being lobotomised; you didn’t just dump me in the negative zone and now is the second time you are holding me while I cry. I tried to kill you. Aren’t you angry with me?”

Genis gently strokes her back. He wants to deny being angry right away, but he owes her the truth. So he looks inside and finds… “No, I’m not angry. I was, for a short time, until Marlo told me about you. Then I stopped being angry. It’s not like you were the first or the last person who tried to kill me. I… I forgave you.”

That gives her pause and after a few more sobs she slowly extricates herself from his embrace and sits up again. “You are too good for this world.” She gently kisses his cheek.

“This isn't really like that,” he says, feeling rather lost already. He's not used to people reacting like that, to telling him that something he did is in any way special—unless they mean a special kind of stupid. “It's just...”

What does he actually want to tell her? That forgiving others is not something only flawless saintly people do, mostly. Because he’s absolutely not one of those. This isn’t the type of conversation that he’s any good at, but apparently, he will have to force his brain to come up with something.

Preferably intelligent, which is probably too much to hope for. Still, it’s not like he can run away, so he tries to gather his thoughts.

“It’s not that,” he says softly. “I don’t think I’m a very good person. And I’m only now starting to figure out this forgiving thing.” He didn’t know what Rick meant, when they talked about it. But apparently, his… heart for lack of a better word, always knew. So he tries to explain. “It's just that if you try to understand why someone did something, you end up figuring out that usually you stop being angry at them—either because they had good intentions, or because they were hurt, or because they didn't know any better.”

“And sometimes, they're just regular assholes,” Una says.

“And sometimes they're regular assholes,” Genis agrees. He kind of doubts he can see either her brother or father having any good reasons for what either of them did.

For a moment, they sit in silence, until Una pulls away and looks up. Her make-up is all smudged over her face again, which Genis decides not to mention. Anyway, he supposes she must know about it, and is just ignoring it for now. She studies his face for a while, which makes him wonder if he has something on his nose, or something. It's feeling sort of itchy, now that he thinks about it. Is that how sunburn feels?

“So, why were you sitting out there?” she asks, which probably does mean he did manage to boil himself at least some. “There aren't any hungry monsters who'd appreciate eating fried sentient beings around.”

“The man Moondragon brought—he's... well, kind of my uncle,” he says. “See, almost all Eternals were made by Isaac using the DNA of Mentor and Sui-san—they only had Eros, who is on the ship there, and Thanos the natural way.”

Una digests this and says, “Growing up with the Mad Titan must have been... well, I think I prefer Zey, despite him being a jerk.”

Genis doesn't answer right away. He hadn't really thought of that before, but really, now that she said it, it's all kinds of obvious. Except... Except you don't really think of Thanos as Eros's brother, at least not without a lot of effort, because Thanos is all about killing everything, and Eros is generally more interested in having fun.

But the conclusion doesn't seem right anymore. Hadn't he said it moments ago? That almost nobody is as shallow as they seem—if it applies to Una, why shouldn't it apply to Eros too? And really, it's not like being self-absorbed and shallow had been all he was. At least not during some of his real memories of him. It's more accurate to say that Eros appears to be more interested in having fun, but there's more to him than just that.

“No, it couldn't have been,” he says. “Well, anyway, my mother is kind of his sister. Which is going to make the next part sound rather... Yeah. So, anyway, apparently, because a lot of people wanted to kill my father, and killing me would have been the next best thing, the implanted memories my mother gave me had Eros be my father.”

Una frowns. “Because he sleeps around with everyone and everything, and nobody will find it all that odd that he had a little mishap?” She studies Genis for a while.

“Not really. Eternals can’t have mishaps like that,” Genis says, and falls silent again. He’s never really thought about that. Eternals aren’t human. Their bodies don’t do stuff like that. So, if – as they claimed – Eros had a child, he wanted to have one. Suddenly he has the feeling of standing at the edge of a yawning abyss full of untold secrets.

Most of the time, he was quite sure that Eros had resented being saddled with fatherhood, and the fact that Genis remembered things that he didn't couldn't have helped. But at the same time, he does remember moments when Eros had been thoughtful and maybe even didn't just see Genis as a walking disaster. Even when the thing with Nitro happened… Because once he thinks back to it now, Eros had not been malicious at all. Genis had only seen like this because he was angry at this point, and now, he can't feel the anger anymore. It's more like he simply hadn't known what to do, and tried to calm Genis down until he could talk with him.

“That means he has to have agreed, at least at some point. He did play along after all. I guess he mostly didn't know how to be a father,” he says. “But he was trying.”

And yet, there is still something not adding up. A nagging feeling that there is something he should notice, but is simply missing too many pieces of the puzzle to even begin what it can be. Did Eros simply stop trying at one point? Why? And why had he played along in the first place?

“Well, there’s a lot of people who do have real children and never find out how to be a parent, either,” Una says with a shrug. “Or just see them as an extension of their will.” There’s a lot of bitterness in her voice and he can guess this does apply to her own father, as well.

“But that still doesn’t explain why you were cooking yourself.”

Genis looks at his hands and tries to think of a good answer. Because of Thanatos—because Eros clearly didn't believe Genis could be trusted with anything of importance at this point?  

And then he realizes that this is a part of whatever is wrong with the picture he has. Because if it had been about Genis and making a giant mess, Eros would have stopped caring a lot earlier. Like, directly after he had blown up the Shi'ar space station, because who needs to know how their powers work? And that had not happened.

“It's complicated,” he finally says. “I mean... I know he wouldn't know I'm there, and everything, but I guess he wouldn't want me around. I don't know why. It's like... like he locked everybody out at some point and didn't want to be reminded about ever being anything but a shallow flirt. And then, just like Phyla, he decided I'm not worth the bother, and can stay catatonic for the rest of my life.” Even with the memories dulled, this hurts.

Despite the pain, a part of him is still nagging at him that something is wrong. He can't make sense of it—not with Eros. If he had wanted to distance himself from a screwed-up mess, he would have done it earlier. Why then?

He will talk with his father about that. Maybe he will have some answers.

Chapter Text

There is a moment of pure disbelief when everything seems to stop. Tanalth listens in stony silence as an unfortunate comms officer relays the news. Somehow, the humans have taken over the Star of Vengeance. She had not believed Ronan that the late Captain Mar-Vell was some sort of a disaster generator. And yet, ever since she had attempted to secure him, only trouble followed.

His daughter was now out of her cell and the detention centre was wrecked. Broken Sentries littered the roads and the central computer hub running defence and other systems on the planet including the environmental controls was a smouldering crater. Comms are afire with protests and from the polar regions, aquacultures are reported as being endangered by failing temperature control protocols.

Tanalth curses inwardly. She has to finish this as fast as possible, before priced cash crops fail and the ministry of commerce calls for her head, again.

“Squadrons! Force them to land, fast. Protocol Satori, now!”

She runs for the ruins of the computer centre. Possibly the attackers are dead underneath, but she has the feeling things are not going to be that easy.

In the end, they have no choice but to try and make a landing. Harrison is not armed or armoured for a prolonged fire-fight. The Star of Vengeance simply cannot target all the fighters without risking shooting them down, and Carol will not get all of them in time before Harrison is shot down.

So, she replaces Moondragon in the pilot’s seat and tries every trick she knows, and probably invents a few. Moondragon strains her powers, and pushes star fighters away from them, if collision seems imminent despite Carols’ efforts. They’re trading certain death for a less certain fate, she knows it.

The Kree want them to land. They get more if Mar-Vell survives, if Carol doesn’t die—a dead Avenger means the other Avengers knocking on the door. Even a captive Avenger is trouble, but it seems that Tanalth is willing to pay that price.

Well, Carol is going to make sure she chokes on them.

But first, she has star fighters to out-fly. She dodges, she blasts through, weaves and dances between them—flying is something of an art, even when one is trying to escape death. Or perhaps especially then.

And then, they break away. Equivox is growing in front of her, a seemingly fragile blue and brown ball. This is where it will end, one way or another.

Despite Moonstone’s efforts, they don’t manage to avoid Tanalth. She catches them as they emerge from the ground outside. Her hammer crashes into the soil and sends a shockwave—Melissa makes it off the ground with Phyla-vell barely in time. Atlas stumbles, while Karla dives forward and pours energy from her hands.

Tanalth holds her hammer up and somehow, the energy parts in front of her. Karla stops her attack, and then Tanalth shoots at her. The energy passes harmlessly through Moonstone and by then Erik has regained his balance. He grows bigger and smashes his fist down, but somehow the Kree rolls out of his way.

Melissa screams and forms spiked balls out of the sound, which she sends at the woman. She bats them back at her, and she has to dive out of the way. Again, Karla tries to attack and again, she is stopped—it feels like a match, where no one can get the upper hand. And this means that as soon as more Kree show up, the balance will shift in their favour. 

The three humans are working together well, covering each other and keeping her from getting a decisive advantage, even though they are hampered by having to shield the unconscious Phyla-Vell. There’s friction between the two females, but they are professionals and don’t let it disrupt their teamwork.

Meanwhile, the Starfighters are forcing the human ship to land. Efforts to retake the Star of Vengeance are underway. Given time, Tanalth will be able to win this.

She just isn’t sure she will have enough time.

That’s when the universal weapon finally manages to identify the energy the blonde female wields. The life stone. Tanalth grins.

“Points for effort,” she growls, sending a pulse wave against the younger female and the male, “now succumb to your betters.”

She doesn’t bother with the shutdown command. Instead, she orders the lifestone to self-destruct…

Something reaches for her innermost self. The Moonstone receives the command, but it doesn’t listen to it. It is hers now, part of her soul, if she believed in something like that. She still understands what it is ordered to do. Explode. Destroy itself and kill her. 

With no regard. Like she is nothing. Like the Moonstone, thousands of years old and full of knowledge and wisdom is but a bauble. Like they are of no account at all.

Ajes’ha roars her rage. This upstart thinking to extinguish her memory. The younger Karla screams, so much she has not been, she could not be, so much life unlived. Karla notes this, the wave of regrets that is so alien and still hers.

There’s no time to react to it. Right here, right now, she sees the Pursuer’s eyes widen, because nothing happens, and that is what sets her off.

“It’s mine. It’s not going to listen to you,” she says, softly. “It is mine.”

And then she cuts loose. “Fuck you, Kree. Fuck you for trying to take my life, again and again and again, fuck you for taking my body, it’s all mine, you don’t fucking get to own me, I’m not dying for you!”

The air boils around her, and she feels her armour glow and her skin blister. “It’s all mine!”

Her ferocity staggers the huge alien, driving her back. “MINE!”

For a moment, Moonstone looks like a comet. She glows as she lunges at the alien, and for the first time, Tanalth seems outmatched. Armor cracks and skin blisters. Her eyes are wide with shock, like she cannot conceive what just happened.

And then, she recovers. “Gnat!” she growls. “You think you can challenge me?”

She brings her hammer down, but it passes through Karla harmlessly, unlike the punch that Karla lands on her jaw. There’s blood now, dripping down her lips. But still it does not stop her.

“It chose me! She chose me!” Karla yells back, her voice a furious shriek. “You won’t take it!”

“I don’t need it to beat you!” Tanalth yells back. She seems completely occupied by Karla, and so Melissa takes her chance. She nods at Erik, who punches down. The Kree rolls out of the way just barely—and straight into a sonic battering ram.

Karla takes over again—a glowing wrathful goddess. Melissa is never going to tell her she thought this… But she can’t dwell on her resentments. The Kree have found them, and dozens of soldiers close in, pouring on a blazing hail of fire.

She and Erik will have to hope Karla can take out Tanalth, while they fight the soldiers.

Chapter Text

The universe shakes Phyla awake. At least, that’s what it feels like because around her, earth and air are being shattered by titanic forces, and the energies roiling like an ocean around her set every nerve inside her body on fire.

She wakes, spits blood and looks up.

The sun fell to earth, it seems.

Then her eyes adjust and she notices it is not the sun. It’s the blonde woman, Moonstone, burning with gravity and photons and everything else generated by a battery as old as the universe. Pitted against that is Tanalth and the universal weapon. All the smarts and skill, the quantum forces holding the cosmos together, and a will to bend steel and shatter planets.

For now, it’s an even contest, both sides giving as good as they get, both bleeding and burning and continuing to fight on with pure rage and determination.

The universe burns around them, while the other woman and the growing man are holding off an army of Kree. They are doing a good job, but it doesn’t look hopeful.

A star streaks overhead and for a moment she feels the touch of Heather’s mind. +Hold out, we are coming.+ Except they are going too far, too fast.

Phyla coughs. It is a bad idea, as she spits blood and notices with unhealthy detachment that some of the bits where the Kree glued her chest together have come loose. She spits out the blood and draws on the rampant energy. The pain fades. The bleeding stops. Just how, she isn’t sure. It would merit some thinking about it.

No time. Think or bleed, she can do later. Now, Tanalth’s greater mass seems to be gaining the upper hand over the blonde’s greater rage.

Not having that.

"I know a death run, when I see one. That ultimate focus, the way everything falls into place, for one very last time."

Tanalth told her that and now Phy sees it too. For all her anger, the blonde is not willing to die. The Kree is.

Let me help.

She’d charge in, but even getting up inside the storm would take too much energy. Her body is a liability, barely functioning, tossed around, sinking into the crumbling ground. As much as she wants to keep her word, in person, she’s willing to settle for results.

+Catch.+

She doesn’t know if Moonstone can hear her, if Heather’s link is still in place. She just trusts that plugged into the universe as all of them are, feeling every electron, every atom, every molecule, all the rays and waves dance along their nerves, the human will feel it as something cuts itself into existence.

The Quantum Sword, the blade of death. Her gift, the one she didn’t lose. Atoms screaming as they are sliced apart, it rushes from Phyla’s outstretched hand towards the women. It doesn’t slow. Thoughts move at speed of light, electrons lighting up neurons.

Time is slower. It is going to hit her. Phyla will fail.

No. They connect, not telepathically, just part of the same energy, the same web. Insubstantial hand to hand, the sword passes, sped up, path altered slightly, imbued with life and death as born in the furnace of creation.

The universal weapon shatters. The storm gives one last roar, erupting like a nova, before dying to embers.

Dying, as the blue Kree, who stood in the eye of the hurricane, the sword driven through her heart.

She doesn’t look at the woman who fought her to a standstill. Her eyes seek Phyla, both of them drowning in their own blood.

Phyla forces air into her lungs. “I promised.” 

Erik Josten feels a sort of horrified awe as he watches the broken girl get to her feet, slipping and sliding on concrete turned to sand. The huge Kree has collapsed, the shining blade still jutting from her torso. Opposite of her, Karla is on her knees, smoke rising from her body, her hair still smoldering.

The soldiers seem to feel the same, because they are just staring, the fight gone out of them like blood from their leader’s punctured heart.

Melissa forms a sound dome over them, keeping the soldiers back, but she hesitates to approach that living picture, too.

Step by step, Phyla-vell stumbles towards the sword, until she can wrap her hands around the hilt.

Erik expects her to pull it out, and maybe behead her enemy for good measure, but all that happens is that the weapon disappears. A fountain of blood springs up from the mortal wound and fades all too soon.

It hits Karla, and jolts her out of her stupor. She spits, and forces herself to her feet. A moment’s hesitation, then she holds out her hand and the girl takes it. They don’t manage a handshake, but instead lean on each other, weary, covered in blood, but glowing.

Frantically, Erik gestures to Melissa. Even though he can see that both women are pretty much ready to keel over, he guesses the Kree won’t.

They’ll see something else.

“You want me to drop the shield?“ Melissa seems incredulous at first, then develops a calculating look. “Karla?“

Even out of it, Moonstone quickly catches on. She says a few words in a low voice to the girl, who nods. Suddenly the sword is back in her hands and light around them intensifies. „Do it.“

Melissa quickly gets in on the act, not merely disengaging her shield, but shattering it into a million pieces.

Karla lifts off, floating, while Phyla-vell advances on the soldiers, who are still simply staring. At their dead leader, at the huge weapon. Voice a hoarse rasp, the girls says something in an alien tongue. From the tone, Erik guesses it means something like „Fuck off.“ A moment’s hesitation, then Karla adds something in the same weird language. It sounds a bit off, but clearly they understand it.

Behind them Melissa gets in on the act, manifesting a blade of solid sound, and a shining birdshape. Erik grows larger.

A moment, it’s all poised on the brink, then a crested wave of energy rising before them and the girl repeating her command, and the soldiers break and run. For good measure, he stomps down, sending them staggering and then running faster.

He is so busy looking threatening that he almost fails to catch Karla as she falls. 

When Harrison enters the atmosphere, they lose the Starfighters, who can’t survive re-entry at these speeds. But their trajectory is all wrong, and they overshoot the last coordinates where Melissa and the others are supposed to be.

It’s too fast to see anything, but Heather suddenly gasps, eyes wide with shock. “They killed her!”

Beside Carol, Mar-Vell stiffens, as Moondragon amends, “Not Phyla. Tanalth. Phyla killed Tanalth.”

That’s a different kind of shock, one Carol has no time to process, given that she still has to land them in one piece. At least the world is flat, and there are no mountains here she can crash into.

They draw a furrow the size of the grand canyon into a field before stopping, hull pinging as it cools.

Moondragon flusters as she is pinned in the crossfire of Mar-Vell’s and Carol’s inquisitive glare. She amends a little. “Tanalth is down, and I think dead. Phyla and Moonstone killed her.”

Mar-Vell starts to curse.

Carol takes his hand. “I think it’s about time to tell the Kree about their unconditional surrender.”

Chapter Text

The Kree governor looks like he’s going to be sick. Carol is unsurprised—he’s likely had a pretty bad day, all things considered. And now it looks like it might get even worse. His eyes dart from Carol, to Mar-Vell, to Moondragon and he can’t seem to decide who is the worst news.

“We’ll be leaving this plant with Phyla-Vell,” Carol says. “There will be no pursuit.”

The official opens his mouth, but makes no sound. He closes it again and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively.

“The high-Grand Pursuer-“ he says and swallows again. “We had no other choice—she demanded all of this.”

“I don’t care,” Carol cuts through his excuses, before he can continue. “You are not going to try stopping us from leaving—we have the Star of Vengeance and if any of your starfighters try to pursue, I will shoot them down. Are we clear?”

“But you can’t just leave!” the governor bursts out. “Our environmental controls are destroyed—all our crops will die before we can fix them! We’ll starve.”

Damn, Carol thinks.

“Aren’t you Avengers supposed to protect people?” he adds, just in case he wasn’t laying the guilt on thick enough.

“I’ll see if anyone knows how to help with this,” Carol says, pressing her hand to her forehead.

The man nods, sagging – she doesn’t know if it’s in relief or just out of general hopelessness, nor does she care. She just wants the whole mess to finally end. 

Phyla drifts back to consciousness, because something wet is dripping on her face. She turns her head, and finds herself looking into Heather’s eyes. She’s crying and one of her tears landed on Phyla’s cheek. She’s still lying in the dust, so she wasn’t gone for long.

“You are not allowed in danger anymore,” Heather says, while using a medical scanner.

Phyla opts in favour of replying, “I told you to get out of here. You should be halfway to Titan right now.”

“Apparently, that was unnecessary, since you are perfectly capable of dismantling an Empire on your own”, Heather snaps, furiously wiping her eyes, and pushing Phyla down when she tries to rise. “Now, have enough sense to stay down.”

Behind her, a musical voice replies, “Clearly, sense is in short supply here.”

Laughing is a bad idea, but she can’t help it. “We won, didn’t we?”

Heather just shakes her head. “Shut up, all of you.”

Apparently, the three humans who came to bust her out learned enough to do what Heather says, because they fall silent. Phyla of course does not. “Where’s Eros? Don’t tell me you took him back here.”

“He’s safe. And if you want to see him, lie still and let me patch you up so we can transport you.”

That’s an argument she can’t discount, so Phyla lowers her head and closes her eyes. Heather’s cursing has gotten quite inventive and somewhere she picked up a couple of rather impressive ancient Kree slurs. Too old to even come from her father’s vocabulary. ‘I’ll have to ask her where she learned that…’ 

Carol may gripe all she wants about Abigail Brand making her do diplomacy, but she has a learned a lot through it. All the philosophy at college could not prepare her for how to be a graceful winner. A poker game with Abigail worked much better. Except she failed then. Now it’s different. The population of this planet might have started the whole mess by pillorying Starfox, but they are innocent of the whole mess that followed.

So she can’t really let them starve or go bankrupt.

That’s why she negotiated that the Thunderbolts will remain behind and rebuilt the environmental controls. And since it will take at least a day until Phyla can be safely transported, Mar-Vell is going to advise them.

As a gesture of good faith, the governor sent a medic to treat Phyla and Moonstone, with Melissa and Heather watching the elderly pink woman like hawks.

Convinced they have everything under control, Carol joins Mar-Vell on Harrison’s small bridge, where he watches the satellite images of the grid of environmental control stations Fixer transmits from the Star of Vengeance.

“How is Phyla?”, Mar-Vell asks quietly.

“Alive. Surviving.” Carol shakes her head. “She’s still out cold, which is probably a blessing, since according to the Kree medic, she’s a horrible patient.”

“She might have gotten that from me,” Mar-Vell admits with a smile. He eyes the internal monitors and frowns as he sees the woman who is in the process of using medical glue to close up the various holes in Phyla’s body. In the background, Melissa is spraying something on Moonstone’s burn injuries, which fortunately seem to be relatively superficial.

Carol grins. “Guilty as charged, too. I guess, it is hard to admit that at some point your will is not enough to keep you going when all of your training is trying to make you believe that.”

Mar-Vell nods. He gives some advice to Fixer via com, and then turns to Carol again. He’s grown serious. “I guess this will come back to haunt us for years. Killing the High-Grand Pursuer. Highjacking the Star of Vengeance.”

Carol shrugs. “This feels like a turf war. If the Supreme Intelligence wanted you, the Kree fleet would scour the galaxy. Here, we faced subterfuge and limited resources, even if they were impressive.”

Kree politics tends to remind her of the Roman empire sometimes, specifically the part where most of the emperors had been dying of assassination.

“Yes.” Moondragon enters, apparently trusting Melissa enough to leave the medic alone with her and Phyla. “According to Ye-Nar, Tanalth was trying to score points for a potential war of succession over Ronan, who is rumoured to be retiring soon-ish.”

Carol nods – she thinks she’d seen that somewhere lately. She has to wonder what the Supreme Accuser wants to do exactly during retirement—he doesn’t exactly seem the type to spend time fishing or sitting in a shed.

Mar-Vell frowns. “That sounds hard to believe. Not that they were plotting, that happens all the time, but that he ought to retire? All Supreme Accusers so far died in office.”

“Tanalth might have intended to see to this eventually?” Carol suggests. She had not seemed like the type to patiently wait for her time.

Heather shrugs, “I don’t care. At least, I think they’ll be happy enough to forget this ever happened.”

“I hope so.” If the Kree get their knickers in a twist, it will make her job much harder in the future. And since Mar-Vell is starting to look anxious, Carol asks Heather: “How’s Phyla? Still sleeping it off?”

The telepath nods. “Yes, she is. The medic said that she’d put her out for a few days because moving right now can kill her. But apparently that is useless because her body burns off every chemical really fast, so we have to hope exhaustion keeps her out long enough that the surgical glue can settle.” When Mar-Vell rises to go to the medbay, asks him: “Don’t wake her up. Even if you are not the sort to take on the whole world, you’ll not be at your most reasonable in this shape. So Songbird is staying with her because she and the other woman seem to be the only people Phyla will tolerate right now.” Moondragon smiles apologetically.

Mar-Vell nods. “I’ll let her rest.” Once more, his stoic façade only barely hides the pain behind, so Carol wraps her arms around him and kisses his neck. At least that is something she can do for him, comfort him, even if it will not really take away the worry.

“What about Moonstone?” Carol asks as an afterthought. Not that she really worries, but as long as Karla is out of commission, she will be stuck on her ship. And that’s not something she’s all that eager on.

“She’s healing fast. She’s in for a couple of painful hours because most of her skin is burned, but she should be fine by tomorrow. I fixed her painkilling tea. She refused drugs.” Heather shrugs. It looks like she wants to say something else for a moment. Then she reconsiders and walks out.

Mar-Vell hugs Carol tighter, and the both remain like this for a while. The universe can wait a moment. 

Technically, Ye-Nar is retired. Only technically, because if the High-Grand Pursuer calls, one stops being retired. And once Tanalth had let the first pebble fall, the avalanche cannot be stopped. So, here she is, patching another child up—and clearly, this one is also trying to outdo her father.

Who apparently decided that he will not stay dead, so everyone who ever made a bet on how dramatically he will die can have another go. Knowing Mar-Vell, he will find a way to make them all lose all over again.

He waits for her outside the medbay, before she can leave and get on her shuttle again. And he clearly remembers her, because he unconsciously stands to attention. He also doesn’t manage to actually open his mouth and ask. But she knows why he is here, anyway.

“Your daughter will recover,” she says. There’s a pang of guilt—maybe because she knew him as a cadet, and used to patch him up. “At least this is a result of an honest fight—not classmates ambushing her in the toilet.”

Mar-Vell winces. “They weren’t trying to kill me.”

Which probably sums up Ye-Nar’s existence too.

“Next time, tell her to bring someone to watch her back,” she says.

“Thank you for your advice, medic,” Mar-Vell tells a point six centimetres to the right of her ear. “I will take it into consideration.”

“I can tell when you’re treating me like an idiot, officer,” Ye-Nar says dryly.

He is still quite cute when he turns crimson, she notes with a smile.

Chapter Text

The door slides open, admitting Genis in. He sits down on the floor next to Rick, and watches Eros in silence for a while. Neither he, nor Rick say anything for a while—Rick makes no comment on the fact that Genis seems to have mild sunburn. His powers are still blocked, so he is not absorbing photons, nor is he healing at an accelerated rate. Well, accelerated rate for part-Kree, part Eternal, at least.

“Say, you can't do the Eternal regeneration thing, right?” Rick asks after a moment.

Genis shrugs. “I don't know? Maybe? I can regenerate, but uh... it's not conscious. Otherwise, I'd be dead.” He looks at Eros, and then says, “And I heal faster than a human, or a Kree.” He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them. Rick’s back protested just from looking at him. “If Eros were awake, he’d probably be fine by now. Or did he wake up at some point?”

Rick shakes his head. “Moondragon mentioned head injuries.”

“Well, once we get him to Titan, Mentor and ISAAC can fix him,” Genis says. He looks at Eros for a moment, and then back to Rick. “Do you think I should have gone with them?”

Rick wonders how to answer that. He probably shouldn’t yell ‘no’ and list reasons why leaving him alone is asking for trouble. This probably needs a more tactful touch.

“No! See, if the Kree would come-“ he says and realizes just exactly what he is saying. “Sorry, I mean—your father was always capable of getting himself out of trouble-“ into which he got himself into in the first place, but Rick doesn’t need to mention that, “and Carol Danvers is a one-woman army. And you know Moondragon, right?” 

Genis nods. “And Melissa is with them.”

Which is both cute and sort of face-palmy. Still, Rick heroically doesn’t mention that Marv managed to get himself out of trouble without Genis’s girlfriend for most of his life, and instead listens to the long list of Songbird’s virtues.

At least he never acted like that about Marlo.

And then, Genis snorts. “Hey, remember the time you spent half an hour telling me how awesome Marlo is, and how she beat everyone in a comic trivia contest once?” 

Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. And in this case, it means thank someone Carol would rather not thank.

Karla Sofen is sitting in the kitchen, wearing very loose pyjamas, the skin that is showing shiny with burn spray and looking all raw and pink. She is staring into an empty teacup, eyes almost glazed with pain and exhaustion.

It takes her a few moments to realise that Carol is in the room and a few more that she’s staring and not saying anything.

While Carol lifts the teapot and wants to ask her if she wants another, Karla manages the shadow of a crooked smile. “Spit it out, will you?”

“What?”

“Well, either you are going to berate me for some imagined slight, so you don’t have to thank me for saving your lost lambs or you will actually man up and thank me anyway. But whatever it is, spit it out and then leave me alone.”

Being read so easily rankles, so whatever good intentions Carol had, evaporated and she snaps: “Must be depressing to see ulterior motives in everyone.”

“Everyone has ulterior motives, always. Seeing them merely means I’m not blind.” She holds out her teacup. “Don’t stand there like a statue, pour me a cup.”

When Carol raises her eyebrows, debating herself if she is going to be childish enough to demand a magic word, Karla adds: “Please”, with a sardonic quirk of her mouth. The tea smells strongly of herbs and makes the other woman sneeze.

That finally decides Carol and she says: “Thank you. For what you did down there.”

The injured woman tries to raise her eyebrows and winces. “You’re welcome.” She sips the tea and her eyes lose focus a little. Apparently, she did take something for the pain, or the tea is more than merely camomile.

Carol puts down the teapot and decides to leave her alone, when Karla speaks again. “Wait.”

She stops and turns around.

“Watch out for the girl. She’s discovered her power and that can be a disconcerting experience.” There’s something like genuine concern in her voice and that’s enough to make Carol feel contrary.

“But Phyla was born with her powers.”

“Please.” Karla sits up a little straighter, clearly revived by the opportunity for lecturing. “Power has nothing to do with powers. It’s about choice and control.”

Despite herself, Carol feels a hole open inside her stomach. “Because she killed.”

“No. That girl isn’t Bullseye.” Karla shrugs and winces. “She took control of her destiny. In defiance of all those who wanted to decide for her. And she found that it’s not about power, it’s about what you are willing to take.”

Clearly, she’s not going to escape a serious discussion with Moonstone. Carol pours herself a cup of the soothing tea, too, and sits down. “Explain.”

“Oh, come on.” The cold blue eyes are mocking in the burned, glistening face. “You are a feminist. That’s your credo?” When there is no answer forthcoming, she continues. “Let me guess. The girl has always been a good girl. Even when she rebelled, she just followed someone else instead of mom or dad.” She coughs, takes another sip of tea. “She wanted to find out who she is, but she’s always defined herself through others. And now she’s found out she doesn’t need them.”

That’s quite observant, Carol has to admit. “Let’s say you’re right. So now she found out she can make her own choices and disappointing others isn’t the end of the world. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Please. Listen, will you? I didn’t say bad. I said disconcerting.” There’s sweat on Moonstones’s forehead and she’s swaying slightly as she gets up. “Imagine living all your life on a cliff. Imagine being afraid of falling if you take just one step wrong. And now imagine finding out you can fly.” 

When Carol stares, Karla adds: “Watch out. She’ll fly off and leave you all in the dust.”

Now that most of the Thunderbolts are no longer on the planet, Norbert has to wonder how Karla feels about being stuck with the Captains Marvel. He can’t help but think she must be annoyed. And then, as he ponders that his mind drifts to the recently uncovered memory—the one where she kissed him.

Did he imagine that? It would seem out of character for Karla. Not that she wasn’t capable of kissing him if she found that she could gain anything from it… Except, there was nothing to gain in this moment. To the contrary, he would forget it all.

He wonders if there’s a way of asking her about it that won’t sound offensive. “Hey, Karla, I just remembered you kissed me, what was your gain?” clearly wouldn’t do.

As he is musing, a cup filled with coffee is placed in front of his nose. “Is everything ok?” Hallie asks.

He gives her a wry smile. “As OK as it can be after taking on a whole dreadnought.”

“Well, look at the other guy?” she grins.

Norbert starts laughing then. “The dreadnaught definitely lost. How do you think is Karla doing?” 

“Should we call her?” Hallie asks. “She should be fine, and she heals fast, but we can call them?”

“Do you think we should?” Norbert replies.

“It would probably be nice”, she ventures. “I mean, if it was me, I’d like that.”

Norbert nods. “Then let’s go to the coms and check up on her.”

Abe sits in the cockpit idly solving puzzles. He is slowly starting to run low on them, so he will need to start thinking about some other way of keeping himself entertained. Then just as he thinks that Norbert and Hallie enter the cockpit.

“What bring you here?” he asks and listens to Hallie explain that they wanted to check on Karla.

“She’s fine,” he says. “She messaged before going to sleep and asked about you Bert.”

“That’s not like her,” Norbert replies.

“She does care about you,” Abe answers.

“You sure?”

Abe nods. “You didn’t hear her when she told us that you were lost. She was mourning. I know her, she doesn’t bother playing games with me.”

Norbert shakes his head. “I thought- This will take some getting used to.” The he smiles wistfully, as he sits down next to Abe. “There’s something I remembered that might fit with what you said,” he says with a sigh. “Back in the past, before I… took the place of my other self, Karla kissed me.” He swallows. “There was no reason for her to do so. Nothing to gain… But she did it.”

Hallie grins. “Well, maybe she fancies you?” She leans forward and kisses his cheek. “Congrats.”

Norbert blushes crimson. “She fancies nobody. And especially not me.”

Abe just shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like you, Bert. Since when are you playing down your worth?”

Chapter Text

Phyla wakes with the worst hangover ever. She’s in the medbay of a ship she doesn’t know and the young woman with the pink hair – Songbird - watches her with a mixture of curiosity and scepticism. Phyla remembers passing out after the soldiers fled and then Heather, her father and the old medic fussing over her.

Apparently, she passed out again. Now Songbird is informing her that she doesn't look like Genis. Which is not news to her at all.

“You look a bit more like your father actually,” the woman adds.

“Neither of us looks at all like him,” Phyla says. Then, she adds, because she knows what is owed, “Thank you for coming for me, Songbird.”

“Melissa Gold,” the woman says, “No thanks are necessary.” There’s a bit of a cool note in her voice and Phyla is remembers what Yon-Rogg said to her.

“You know my brother,” Phyla says. And apparently, whatever he told her about his sister, was not really flattering. She can’t fault him. She studies the other woman closer—short and slight, but attractive. Quite a bit older than Genis, even judging by his apparent age. Remembering how she saved her life and organised the escape, also quite intelligent. Not what she expected.

“Mhm.” Melissa Gold nods. “We’re together.” She smiles, quite unconsciously, and Phyla thinks she has proof that Yon-Rogg really doesn't know anything.

She isn't sure what to think about it, so she falls silent. She knows what she shouldn’t say but knowing that expressing surprise over the sudden improvement in Genis’s taste isn’t wise, doesn’t mean she can think of a better subject in conversation. It also occurs to her that she has actually never met any of his partners—perhaps, they had been perfectly nice people?

After a while she notices Melissa is humming softly.

“I’m not a baby”, Phyla protests.

The other woman just smiles and continues. Is this some sort of power? Probably not. Sonic powers don’t work that way, they are usually destructive. It’s just that it forces Phy to take her mind off her pain and guilt, and use it to think… Which also makes her notice how jumbled her thoughts are and how damn tired she is.

“You are not my mother.” Where did that come from? “That’s good.” Somewhere, in some corner of her brain a still reasonable Phyla sits up and says “Truth serum still working.” Drifting off to sleep, she slurs “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Mar-vell returns to the cockpit and sits down on the co-pilot’s chair, since he is about as ready to sleep as he is to tell Ronan that the Supreme Accuser had achieved anything other in life than being a cruel bigot. He is tired, but at the same time, he can't help but to think of Eros—hurt so badly because of him; of Phyla, who will have to deal with what happened, with the life she took; of Rick and Genis, and if they are fine...

He feels arms around his shoulders, and another body against his side, so he turns around and buries his face in Carol's shoulder. His arms end up holding her tightly almost without conscious thought.

They sit in silence for a while—he isn't sure for how long, and slowly he feels the tension ebb away.

“I am so glad you are back”, Carol whispers softly and kisses his cheek. “I mean, really back. So, I can hold you when you need me.”

That stirs a memory in his mind, a memory of when he was a little boy, being given over to the military academy on Kree-Lar. “Mothering me?”, he asks softly, not really knowing what he feels about making this connection.

“If need be?” Carol smiles and cups his face in her hands. “Everybody needs that on occasion.”

“Even you?” “Even me. Humans are social animals.”

“And when you don’t have a partner?” Now his curiosity is stirred, because no Kree would ever admit this, even though it’s just as true for them. With a lover, you might let down your guard enough. Maybe. But otherwise…

“Then you have friends, hopefully. Or, like the Avengers, a butler.” Her smile turns broader as if she only just realised that. “Sure, he wouldn’t give you a hug, probably, but he will make hot chocolate and bring you cake and listen…”

“He did that for me.” Now Mar-vell shares her smile. “When I was waiting for the Avengers to decide something, while we fought Thanos for the first time, he gave me hot chocolate. It was nice. Sweet and slightly bitter. Like life.”

Carol giggles—apparently chocolate is not a philosophical food. “Do you want some?”

“No,” he says. “Not if it means getting up.”

Carol leans closer and kisses him, and for a while the universe is both distant and unimportant, or maybe just becomes very small. Just the two of them.

When they break the kiss, Carol rests her forehead against his. After a moment, she kisses him again, then gets up and takes his hand. “Come on, I’ll make us hot chocolate. We definitely both need it now.” 

He can’t really dispute that.

Hopefully Moonstone will have vacated the kitchen by now.

Chapter Text

They leave early in the morning. Moonstone left before to re-join the Thunderbolts, to pretty much everyone’s relief, although at least Carol’s hostility has lost its pointedness. Heather can sense the elation of the Kree governor as he watches Mar-Vell walk up the ramp. He’s the last one to board the ship, and once he’s safely inside, they can finally leave. Perhaps, under other circumstances, Equivox would be a nice world, but Heather thinks that if she never sees it again it will still be too soon.

She makes her way to the medbay, instinctively reaching out to Phyla. Her lover is still asleep—probably better for all of them. She isn’t healed yet, not even close.

Genis’s weird redhead is dozing in the chair by Phyla’s bed, so Moondragon convinces her to go to bed and sleep for a while. “I’ll take over for a bit.” Songbird leaves, swaying a little, and she sits down next to Phy.

It’s probably better she is still asleep, yet, when she takes her lover’s limp hand, she wishes desperately that she were awake. To hear her voice, to feel her fingers squeeze hers. Anything.

“Don’t do anything like that ever again,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone.”

With her free hand, she wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, chiding herself for her own words. She’s doing Phy a disservice—saying that she did all of this just to prove something.

“I can’t lose you,” she says. “Not again.”

She brushes Phyla’s cheek gently and wonders what will happen next. Hopefully, Eros will have woken up by now… And then they can decide where they need to go. To Titan? To Earth? Or perhaps Knowhere?

She will think about it later. Once Phy is awake.

For now, she needs to be practical and inform someone that they’re safe and sound, and coming back. The Kree woman is out—Heather doesn’t know her at all and barging into the head of someone uninvited if one only met them once should be only done in case of extreme emergencies. That leaves her with Genis and Rick.

After a moment of consideration, she decides against contacting Genis. Given the mind-surgery she had performed on him, it would be risky—especially, if his cosmic awareness decided to interfere.

Which left her with Rick, who probably had gotten used to hearing voices in his head by now, given how long he had spent bonded to someone. 

Rick is making himself a sandwich, when Moondragon contacts him. He is slightly—well, not so slightly—miffed. It’s not like he wants her to find out what he eats when no one is looking.

+You could add some olives,+ she sends dryly.

Rick groans. Then, he eyes the fridge suspiciously, since Moondragon isn’t there for him to give her suspicious looks.

“So, I take Phyla is safely on your white steed?” he asks. Then he realizes what he said and then, he remembers Moondragon can also hear his thoughts, so she knows he’s embarrassed. It’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

And then, it occurs to him that she had also ‘heard’ that.

“Er…” he manages.

+We’re on our way back,+ Moondragon sends, her voice sharp. +Tell Genis Phyla is alive.+

Something strikes Rick about the way she said it, and so he asks, “But not fine?”

There is a moment of silence, and then Moondragon asks, sounding significantly more irritable, +When did you get observant?+

“Years ago,” Rick says sourly. “It helps when one keeps ending up in the middle of super-hero drama.”

+She will recover,+ Moondragon sends. +And speaking of recovering, has Eros woken up?+

“No,” Rick says. “At one point, he was getting worse, so Genis had to transfer more energy to him, but that’s it.”

Then, her presence in his head fades much to Rick’s annoyance. It would have been nice if he had something more reassuring to say, but no. Reassurances are not good enough for Moondragon, it seems.

Grumbling, he makes another sandwich and goes to look for Genis. 

Genis looks at a sad-looking chewed up toy mouse. Then, he looks at Chewie. She pokes the toy with one paw and nudges it towards him. Since something is clearly expected from him, he kneels down and pokes the toy with his finger.

It slides back to Chewie, who stares at him for a long, long moment. Then, she pounces on the toy with enthusiasm. She rolls around for a few seconds, before standing up and depositing it at Genis’s knees.

And she’s back to looking at Genis expectantly.

He picks the toy up and experimentally shakes it a bit. Chewie mews with approval.

“You realize I’m a lot bigger than a mouse, don’t you?” he asks.

The flerken mews, then tries to swat the tail of the toy with her paw.

“I hate to spoil your fun, but I’ve news,” Rick says. Genis turns around instantly, a feeling of dread lodging itself in his stomach and making his hands grow cold.

“Is everyone-?” he starts to ask.

“Phyla is hurt, but she’s going to make it back,” Rick says hastily. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

Somehow, the fear and the tension don’t want to leave as easily as they have shown up. Genis only realizes he has balled his hands into fists, when he feels Chewie’s paw on his hand. He breathes out slowly.

“Are they coming back?”

“Yeah,” Rick nods quickly. “Moondragon just told me. Uh… I also made a sandwich for you. I’ll leave it here.”

He puts it on the table and takes a step back, then another.

“Rick, wait,” Genis says. “Did Moondragon say anything else?”

Rick stops his escape attempt and shakes his head. “She wasn’t feeling very talkative.”

Which might mean that Phyla is really badly hurt—and he hadn’t wanted that. Not anymore. He glances at the dampener at his wrist and wonders if maybe he should check on them.

Chewie mews again, and he turns to look at her, distracted for a moment. The flerken buts her head against his hand and Genis says helplessly, “I’m sorry, I can’t speak flerken. I don’t know what you want.”

She gives him a disappointed look and headbutts his hand again. It sort of makes him think of someone yelling in their native language, in case talking louder will make others understand them and he can only barely stifle a snort.

He tries to scratch her head in apology when she gives him an offended look, but she ducks under his hand and marches away to the table, where she starts washing her muzzle with her back turned to him.

Moondragon enters the cockpit several hours later. Mar-Vell doesn’t need telepathy to tell she’s cranky and upset. Given the situation, it’s hard to blame her, but Mar-Vell would rather she went somewhere else, because an upset Moondragon will want to share those feelings with others. Or rather, make others share them.

“Eros hasn’t woken up so far,” she says. It sounds a bit like she thinks he’s doing it on purpose to annoy her.

Mar-Vell really doesn’t have the energy for playing peace-keeper, but he tries nonetheless. “Head injuries can be tricky.”

“I know,” Moondragon answers, and runs her hands over her face. Then, she looks up, and asks, “So, what next oh great leaders?”

“What do you mean?” Carol replies, turning around.

“I mean that once we get back to wherever we left Eros, we will need to leave that place,” she says. “So, where to?”

“For now, it looks like a good place to lie low”, Carol says. “The Kree have not found it and I don’t think we should run out on the Thunderbolts, given they are staying behind to fix our mess.” And from what she gleaned so far from Melissa, the Thunderbolts have been left to the wolves a bit too often for her to join that crowd of people who did that.

Moondragon looks at them for a moment, before nodding briskly. She then turns to stare outside, through the viewport.

Carol looks at Mar-Vell and then asks, “Can you ask Melissa what she thinks?”

Chapter Text

Phyla-Vell’s sleep is fitful. She wakes up for a few minutes after Melissa comes back to check on her.

“Can you tell Genis I’m sorry?” she asks.

Melissa looks at her for a moment, weighing her options. She can’t exactly tell her what she had wanted to tell Rick Jones, because that will likely just make her clam up for good. But she isn’t going to play messenger either. 

“You should tell it to him yourself,” she replies. “But I can ask him, if he wants to talk with you.”

The young woman doesn’t argue, and Melissa starts humming again, until Phyla drifts off to sleep. It takes a while, but at least this time Genis’s sister doesn’t resist. Melissa watches her turn, until finally she settles into a calmer sleep. Then she relaxes on her chair and wonders where Phyla got that scar. It’s long and thick, running not only down her face, but also her neck.

It doesn’t look like something one can simply earn in a fight.

It also doesn’t look new.

With a sigh, Melissa rubs her eyes. By now, she should be used to life suddenly turning into a wild rollercoaster ride—hasn’t it been doing this regularly ever since the Thunderbolts have decided to turn over a new leaf? And yet, she feels quite exhausted now. She probably ought to sleep more, but this can wait until she’s back with Genis.

The door hisses open, and she smells coffee.

She looks up and finds herself looking at Mar-Vell, who is holding two mismatched mugs. She feels a brief moment of apprehension—a faint echo of her older worry that he will disapprove of her, but then she hands her one of the mugs.

Melissa smiles gratefully. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I should be thanking you.”

“That’s what we do,” she replies. “She fell asleep moments ago,” she adds, nodding at Phyla. “Do you want to stay with her for a while?”

“Do you think she wants to see me?” Mar-Vell asks, looking at the young woman. Melissa thinks she almost hears a ‘me, who has been nothing but a shadow cast over her life.’

“She might be still too sore and out of it,” Melissa says. Then, after a moment, she adds, “She also seems to feel very guilty about something.”

“This mess?” Mar-Vell doesn’t sound like he believes it and neither does Melissa.

“No. I think it has to do with Genis. So, I don’t know if she’d want to talk to you about it.” She’d suggest Karla, if Karla could actually be trusted not to fuck it up because she can.

Mar-Vell doesn’t answer for a while. He watches Phyla in silence, before eventually saying, “I don’t know if I can even help her or Genis with this. I’ve no siblings.”

“Neither do I,” Melissa says. To be fair, she wouldn’t wish her parents on any theoretical child, but it does mean she lacks any personal experience to share. “I guess she will have to accept advice coming from common sense.”

That earns her a wry smile. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope to offer.” Then, he grows serious again. “Once we’re back, we want to wait until the Thunderbolts are done helping on Equivox.”

“Thank you,” Melissa says softly. “Do you think the Kree will try something?”

Mar-Vell takes a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know. The Moonstone would be a tempting prize, but they shouldn’t be able to do anything with it now. But I don’t know about Ronan’s other possible successors. Or Tanalth’s. I can’t guess what they will do. Or if Ronan will decide to have one final moment of glory and try taking it back.”

Melissa nods and drinks some of her own coffee. It’s bitter and pleasantly warm. “I guess this wasn’t what you’ve planned?”

“I hadn’t planned on coming back to life at all,” he says. “Not that I’m going to complain.” He pauses and looks at Phyla. “I had expected I might end up in trouble with the Empire again, but not that it would extend to Phyla. Or Eros.”

Melissa shrugs. “You don’t have to tell me, but just what did you do that they want you so badly?”

“It’s a long story,” Mar-Vell answers. “I mostly kept doing what I believed was right. For most of my life, it tended to align with what the Kree Empire dictated as right. But eventually… I started realizing that there’s no difference between protecting and fighting for others—not just Kree. And, since the Kree Empire tends to wage war a lot, and wants to subjugate any useful species, that put me in opposition to what the Kree wanted.”

“And they don’t really sound like people who accept being told they are wrong”, Melissa concludes.

“No, they aren’t,” Mar-Vell replies. He shakes his head. “Fighting the Supreme Public Accuser and the Supreme Intelligence didn’t help.”

“But you had to, right?” Impulsively, she reaches out and puts her hand on his arm. She doesn’t comment because she knows all about that, about how you follow someone because you have been told it is right even when all of it feels wrong. Except her giving advice on this, or even just proclaiming empathy doesn’t feel right to her. Like she’s not worthy of comparing herself to him.

Mar-Vell nods. He looks at her, compassion in his eyes, and then he pulls over another chair. “In my experience, the people who have to proclaim moral superiority have no claim on it.”

Melissa thinks of Osborn and the things he called her and gives a bitter laugh. She remembers Karla’s rants on how those who would judge them don’t deserve to and has to admit she was not all that wrong. “I know.”

“You sound like you really do know,” he says. “Please tell me if I’m overstepping.”

Melissa shakes her head. “No, I don’t mind telling you about it.” She takes another sip of her coffee and looks at it for a while. “You know I was a villain and together with the other Thunderbolts, we tried to go legit. We were given promises and they always were broken. Finally, I brokered a deal with the CSA that if we worked for them, we’d get a pardon eventually. Except, the moment we signed up, the assurances offered were revoked. We’d still get a pardon, and money, but we had to dance to their tune.”

She looks down at her hands. “That was after the Civil War and they put Norman Osborn in charge. He sent us after unregistered superhumans, he put killers and monsters on the team, and he just wanted to make money off us, too. I followed him still, I tried to make the best of the fucked up situation, tried to do right…”

Mar-Vell puts a hand on her shoulder. “That’s not always possible, though. Sometimes, the situation is so bad, all the choices you have end up with everything crashing and burning, and all you can do is choose the one which seems least wrong.”

“Which I didn’t manage. I still tried to make it work when Osborn managed to become a public hero, and Director of SHIELD. He disbanded the Thunderbolts program. Those who followed him, became Avengers. And those who didn’t, he disposed of.” She can’t help but still feel so stupid and naïve for not having seen it. “He sent Bullseye and Venom to kill me.”

“Going by how this Osborn sounds, they’re not people you want sent to kill you, are they?” Mar-Vell asks.

Melissa can’t help but to giggle. “You sound like there are people you’d want to be after you.”

“Probably not. Just lesser evils”, he admits, looking a bit sheepish.

Chapter Text

It’s evening when Harrison lands. Genis watches as the dust settles and the ramp extends. Melissa, Carol and his father get out. There’s no sight of Phyla—but she’s supposed to be wounded, so maybe she can’t walk? And Moondragon is probably with her.

 He waves at them, which probably isn’t looking terribly smart. They can see him. It’s not like he’s easy to overlook, not being a tree, rock or made of sand. Then Melissa waves back, and he grins at her.

 “I’ll check on Rick,” his father says. And in case he wasn’t being transparent giving them space, Carol adds that she will check on Una. It’s still really nice.

 Melissa starts giggling once they’re alone.

 Genis pulls her into a hug then and buries his face in her hair. It smells of smoke and plasma discharge, telling him that she was in a hard fight and so far, didn’t really have time to wash that out.

 “Hi,” he says indistinctly.

 “Hi yourself,” Melissa replies, as she wraps her arms around him. “How was it here?”

 “Boring,” Genis answers truthfully. “I guess that’s not the case for Equivox?”

 “No,” Melissa says. “I don't think the Kree like your sister very much now. But if we are lucky, they will be too busy infighting to go after her.”

 Genis stands straighter, so they can look at each other. “So, it wasn’t just bad luck they hurt Eros?”

 “No,” she sighs. “It’s some sort of a budding war of succession over Ronan the Accuser, apparently. It was already complicated before we showed up, and we messed up the political situation even more.”

 “But you’re all fine?” Genis asks. She looks fine, but tired.

 “Your sister is pretty badly wounded, but getting better,” Melissa replies. “Karla almost burned her own skin off, but she heals fast and was up again when we left.”

 Genis feels a bit sheepish at hearing this, but fortunately his own sunburn is healed, too. Otherwise it would have been a bit awkward to explain.

 “Moondragon told Rick about Phyla,” he says. “How bad is it?”

 “Pretty bad,” Melissa says. She reaches up and runs her hand against his cheek. “You didn’t say she’s this stubborn. She went against the Supreme Pursuer with a collapsed lung and a hole in her head.”

 Genis also didn’t know that Phyla is this stubborn, so he tells Melissa that. He can’t really think of anything smarter to say. It’s not like he could realistically have been there to make a difference. Or like his presence would make Phyla act in a less self-destructive way, for the matter.

 If anything, he’d likely have made everything worse.

 “The Grand-High Pursuer tried to use Eros and then Phyla as bait to get your father. For brownie points, it seems. Phyla took offense to that, and she and Karla killed Tanalth,” Melissa says softly. The expression on her face is something like awe muted by shock.

 Genis isn’t sure he heard her right the first time. Phyla wouldn’t, would she? But he doesn’t know her, not really. And clearly she would and she did. A part of his brain wonders if she was trying to outdo his quantity with quality, and if destroying a Kree-Skrull-Shi’ar fleet counts the same on the ‘the Kree don’t like you very much’ scale. He pushes the thought away.

 “That sounds more than complicated,” he says eventually, not sure what else he can say.

 Melissa nods and leans against him, so he wraps her in his arms and kisses her carefully.

Heather sighs. She fills her cup with coffee and stares into it. She’s missing her teas, but she cannot leave Phyla alone here and it seems that Mar-Vell and Captain Marvel intend to greet everyone first. Without her. At least Phyla is still out of it and cannot complicate things.

 Of course she is wrong.

 It is the cat’s hissing that warns her, and when she turns around, she sees it flee, tail fluffed and teeth bared. Behind her, someone is moving very slowly, with shuffling steps, through the corridor towards the exit. Just that she’s not leaving bloody handprints on the wall.

 Heather wants to scream in frustration, yell, call her names. She does none of that, of course. Instead, she runs and props her lover up.

 +What the flark do you think you are doing?+

 +Don’t yell in my head. It hurts.+

 +As if you care. I don’t need telepathy to see how much you hurt.+ The young woman’s mind feels like a bag full of broken glass to her, pieces grating against each other. Everything, every heartbeat, every impulse along her nerves, is pain. Even Heather didn’t know how many bits in a body are active at every given moment.

 Phyla is not looking at her, instead, she stares at the door. In that moment, she looks a lot like her father, her jaw muscles standing out like ropes. +I need to see him. I want to know he is fine.+

 Well, fine is a matter of definition, but unless she knocks her out now, the only thing Heather can do is play along. +And you could not ask me to help you?+

 +…+ There’s only silence, but Heather realises that Phyla, hurting, exhausted, determined, is still not rational, and probably believes she must do everything on her own.

 +Relax. I will float you over. I was going to transfer you to my ship anyway, the medical equipment is much better there.+

 Phyla slumps against her, and Heather wraps her up in a telekinetic cocoon.

 +I’m sorry. I…+

 +I’m sorry, Phy. It’s… hard for me to admit others are also capable of reasonable judgement.+ Heather knows her smile is very wry.

 Phyla rests her head on her shoulder and is asleep a moment later. For a second Heather is tempted to take her back to bed, but she promised.

Chapter Text

When Genis sees Phyla floating along limply in Heather’s telekinetic grasp, his heart misses a beat. He knows she is not dead, is not even passed out—just asleep—yet she looks dead to his eyes at first, until he notices the slow rising of her bandaged chest.  Beside him, Melissa raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t seem shocked. So at least Phyla is not looking worse.

“She's fine,” Moondragon says briskly. Then she takes a moment to think about what she said about Phyla, who looks like she got in a fight with... well, an army of Kree. “She's going to get better, if she gets rest and doesn't start running around, and I'm putting her into the medbay.”

Genis looks at Phyla again. She seems to be still asleep, as far as Genis can tell. There is an old scar on her face, he notes, and there may be more once she heals.

How strange, to see life leave its marks on her, when she always seemed so untouched by the world. Mother will not like that her other child is grown up, he thinks, and then immediately pushes the thought away.

It seems it shows that he was thinking something unpleasant, because Melissa takes his hand.

“We were going to our room,” she says.

Genis nods, grateful for a distraction.

Moondragon looks at them and then nods. “I will tell you when Phyla wakes up,” she says and leaves them. Genis doesn’t get to protest or say yes—or even decide if he wants to know that at all.

“Everything okay?” Melissa asks.

“I think so,” Genis says after a moment. He can probably decide later. It’s not like knowing that Phyla is awake means he has to come see her. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Melissa gives him a grateful look. “Oh yes. A million showers.”

“I think we might only get one,” Genis laughs, Phyla forgotten for the time being. “But hopefully a longer one?”

Rick Jones leaves in a rather panicky way when Heather comes in. “Well, now someone is here in case Eros wakes up, so you don’t need me anymore.” Just that he doesn’t leave skid marks on the floor. Really, he was more mature at 15.

She shakes her head and then gently settles Phyla on the second bed, right in view of the one with Eros. His vital signs are strong and stable, and aside from his face and hand, his injuries are no longer visible. He only needs to wake up.

Grateful that she didn’t inadvertently lie to her lover, she attaches Phyla to another monitor for the vital signs and frowns.

It shows only static. So does a second and a third unit, so it isn’t a technical defect.

“Just what are you doing?” At least Phyla’s heartbeat is strong and regular. Her breath is very slow, but Phyla doesn’t really need to breath, so that is probably instinct keeping her from straining her lungs.

She’s asleep, deeply under and not dreaming.  “Not leaving you alone,” she says with a sigh and settles down by her side and takes her hand. She watches the monitors without really seeing them for a while—she can’t really say how long it has been. Eventually though, it occurs to her that she should probably also check on Eros again.

Perhaps in more detail. And then, she realizes that perhaps she also needs to check what exactly is happening with the monitors. Yes, Phyla and Eros are fine now, but that can still change.

This is probably where cosmic awareness would be really useful, she thinks.

Out of interest, she attaches one of the monitors to herself and it works perfectly fine. On Phyla, there’s static. It does not pick up any signal. Heather frowns. “Really, what are you doing?” She shakes her head.

Phyla, predictably, doesn’t give an answer. Heather is left with only one option—think. She knows that one of her lover’s powers is absorbing energy—and electricity would fall under the category. But the monitor is working. So that can’t be it.

What else can it be? She puts the monitor on Eros and it reads his vital signs, too. Turning the second one in her hands, she activates it. A light pulses on its underside, but since it’s not attached to anyone it shows… Static. For a moment, Heather’s heart wants to stop.

She reaches out, grabbing Phyla’s hand, convincing herself she is really there, really alive. Not a ghost. Not an illusion. She isn’t. Her touch must have been rough, frantic, because the young woman winces, and bites her lip. Heather’s hand turns cold.

She lets go of Phyla’s hand and watches her with wide eyes.

She’s here. She’s really here, she isn’t dead, she thinks frantically as she presses her hands to her mouth. Her eyes roam the room for something to reassure her, until they fall on the monitor again. There’s nothing on it, and yet…

It sends a pulse of energy, when it takes a reading. Phyla absorbs energy. She makes the connection far later then she would have liked, but once she does, she sags in relief. It’s just Phyla’s powers.

She’s still here. Still with her.

When she reaches for her again, she does it with more care. This time, there’s no feeling of cold – which was just her bodily warmth, which is also a form of energy, being absorbed.

“Don’t scare me like that, love.”

+I went to the realm of the dead for you. I think that entitles me to a couple of scares.+ Phyla teeps. Her mental voice is firm, if slow. Her eyes are still closed, because clearly that minute movement is too much for now. +I love you.+

“I love you too,” Heather says. “But you really need to rest more.”

+Not yet. I’m not done.+

“Really, I forgot how obnoxious that trait was in your father,” Heather says with a sigh. “Too stubborn to lie down when you are spent. You are done. Quite well done, too.” She runs her hand over Phyla’s cheek, and once more feels the cold creep into her fingers. “Eros is right over there.”

As if the minute amount of energy boosted her strength, she opens her eyes and turns her head. 

Looking is not enough. Fortunately, Phyla by now figured out what she has been doing since Tanalth turned several of her rather important inner bits to paste – how she has kept herself functioning and acting when she actually should be dead. Or at least helpless on her back, pumped full of drugs.

She absorbs energy, she channels and moves it, and she is about half Eternal and something else. Her body isn’t just organic goo. She’s aware of it now, of every bone and drop of blood, down to every cell. It’s all energy, too, and it obeys her now. She feeds it whatever she can find, and makes it hold together and work. Maybe, one day she will be able to do what the Eternals do, and heal herself. For now, she’s just applying tape to it, gluing a leaky vessel together again and again and again.

It’s enough sit up. Heather’s eyes widen with shock and for a moment it looks like she’s going to protest, but then she relents. “Stop this, I’ll float you.”

That’s easier of course. Phyla settles back into Heather’s telekinetic grasp until she deposits her in the chair vacated by Rick. She lifts a hand and puts it on Eros’s limp fingers. They are warm now, and she can feel the pulse, not weak and thready but strong. He still doesn’t squeeze back, though.

Heather starts explaining something about head injuries. Phyla tunes it out, instead she scrutinises the instruments behind the bed. It’s Titanian science and she can read it well enough.

Eros is almost healed, only the bones in his skull have not fully mended. And his hand is only beginning to realign and might need more effort than his body is able to give on its own. His brain is fine, no elevated pressure, no bleeding, no swelling. He’d still have an epic headache and possibly have trouble speaking or eating, but there’s no reason for him to still be comatose. Which he is, no reflexive response to her squeezing his hand and the computer agrees with her.

“He’s not going to wake up,” Phyla says. She doesn’t understand the certainty in her voice, yet it’s definite. She knows this to be the case and Heather’s protests are in vain.

“He is not in danger. We will take him to Titan once the Thunderbolts are back from Equivox. And no, you don’t have to come, you can go to Earth with your father if you want to.”

“He isn’t going to wake up,” Phyla insists. “Certainly not for his father. He is too afraid.”

Heather sighs and crouches down beside her. “You can’t know that. He is healing. He will wake up. And if not, we will find a way to help him. But now you need to rest. To get better. You do not have to worry about Eros. He’s right here, he is safe. I’ll tell him you are here. I’m a telepath, maybe he listens to me.”

She wants to believe Heather, so badly. Wants to lie down and rest and wait. How can she know, really? Even if her cosmic awareness were not gone, it doesn’t work like that. She isn’t a medium.

So she doesn’t protest when Heather takes her back to her bed, and she settles back to sleep. She doesn’t know what she could do. Heather is the telepath and if anyone can reach Eros, it’s her.

+Tell him to come back. Tell him we are all safe.+

+I will.+

Chapter Text

Melissa had wondered why part of their inventory had been a box of clothes rollers. That had been before she found a space cat monster curled up in her shirts. That cat fur found its way on the blankets and pillows was no surprise, given that Chewie was so fond of Genis.

 But did she have to get it on towels?

 “I have cat hair in my hair,” she grumbles at the universe at large.

 “Er... Sorry, can't do anything about that without burning your hair off too,” Genis offers from the shower stall.

 “I think it will just brush out,” she says after a moment.

 The door of the shower stall slides open, and Genis peers out. “I think Chewie is much smarter than a normal cat. So, maybe, if she knows we know, she will stop doing some of the more annoying cat things.”

 Melissa giggles. “I don't think it works that way. That would probably violate the rules of the cat union or something.”

 Genis grins. “Sounds about right,” he says.

 He leaves the shower and grabs the towel Melissa hands to him. She yawns and takes another towel to dry her hair. “It’s not like I won’t get more cat hair in it because Chewie sleeps on our pillows”, she says.

 “Yeah, I guess we just have to accept that,” he nods and kisses the tip of her nose.

Mar-Vell finds Heather in the medbay of her ship. She is standing next to Eros, one hand resting on his head. There are sweat drops on her temples and tension in her posture. She doesn’t notice them, so clearly, she is concentrating very hard. Finally, she sighs, relaxing.

 Only then she turns around to look at him and then at Carol, who is standing next to him.

 “I promised Phyla to try and contact Eros telepathically and tell him he is safe. It doesn’t work,” she explains and rubs her temples. 

 Since Heather is reaching the point of exhaustion, he suggests: “You should get some rest.”

 She shakes her head. “Someone has to watch over Phlya. I don’t know what else she’ll get up to.” Then, she yawns. When she meets Mar-Vell’s eyes again, she sighs rather theatrically. “Can you at least get Genis’s little redhead?”

 It’s probably just her exhaustion talking, but Mar-Vell feels Carol tense at his side.

 “Songbird is her own person”, she says, her voice very firm and almost sharp. “You discount her when you call her that.”

 Heather has the good grace to blush. “Fine. Can you please get Songbird to look after Phyla, since Phyla already knows her?”

 “Songbird needs rest too,” Carol answers coldly. “We will not disturb her to spare your feelings.”

 “I’ll stay,” Mar-Vell says.

 “And I’ll stay with you,” Carol adds.

 Heather gives them both a doubtful look. Then, she looks at Phyla.

 “I guess she will have to find out someday,” she concedes. That does not mean she gets up. She remains seated, Phyla’s hand in hers. She watches the younger woman, her expression oddly soft. Mar-Vell wonders if he has ever seen look at someone like that—he can’t really remember any instance.

 He glances at Carol and indicates Heather with his head. Carol nods and walks towards the other woman.

 “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get some coffee.”

 “Tea,” Heather says firmly, as she gets up.

 “I’ll be here,” Mar-Vell says and takes Heather’s place next to Phyla. He takes her hand as the two women leave. Then, he is alone with his sleeping daughter and Eros.

 „Strange.“ Genis stands in front of their tiny locker. Since Rick and Una moved to Heather’s ship, he doesn’t have to be afraid of being seen, so is not wearing a towel.

 Melissa deliberately is not looking and towelling her hair. She already put on her nightshirt and walks in behind him on bare feet. The floor is cold, so she quickly sits down on their nest and pushes her cold feet underneath the blanket.

 “What’s strange?”

 “I had two pyjamas here. Now there’s only one.”

 Oh. Now she has to giggle. “Karla borrowed it, apparently. I mean, she used so much energy she got burned and then had to wear something loose. Since they had treated the burns with spray, I guess it was ruined.”

 Genis dresses himself and sits down beside her. “This is funny?”

 “Well, it looked funny. When she wore it. I mean, she’s tall, but you have much wider shoulders.” She wraps the towel around her hair as turban and leans against Genis. “Humans find it funny if women wear men’s clothing and the other way around.”

 He frowns. “But men and women wear the same things. Mostly.”

 “Those few they don’t?” She says somewhat lamely. “Like frilly dresses or pyjamas with buttons.”

 Genis kisses her temple. “You’d look pretty no matter what you wear. I don’t think it’s funny.”

 “Thank you.” She smiles. Something stirs within her, and she turns around to kiss him. He catches her lips with his, and she feels his arms around her. His hand rests on her back for a moment, and he slides it up slowly. She gets up on her knees, her hands sliding over his shoulders, feeling the heat and strength there.

 He presses her closer, and just as she wants to wrap her legs around his hips, the old doubt returns. Is she doing it for the wrong reasons? Is what she feels even what she thinks it is? So, she just holds him, returning the kiss, waiting for him to pull her on his lap, or ease her down on the bed.

 Except it never comes, and then a yawn shows her body has decided to give in to a different urge.

 “You should sleep.” Genis breaks the kiss. She sits up again and he brushes his hand through her hair. She is tired, and the mood is gone, but there is something… what was it?

 “Your sister wants to apologize to you for something,” she says eventually.

 She feels Genis tense in her arms. In retrospect, having this kind of a conversation when tired and half-asleep might not have been her best idea.

 “Sorry, this isn’t the right time,” she says and looks up.

 Genis shakes his head. “No, it’s—you don’t have to worry that I’ll fall apart or something, if you mention Phyla.” He sits up, curling one arm around his legs, and with one hand over Melissa’s. “I’m surprised she feels that way.” He kisses her gently, before continuing: “I will talk to her. Just… when I know what exactly I want to tell her. It’s stupid, I guess, but I didn’t really think about it.”

 Melissa shakes her head. “It’s not stupid. These things are difficult.” After all, she left all talking to Karla outside of battle to Carol. She might not have siblings, but she can certainly relate to having extremely complicated issues with people close to her.

 Genis lies down at her side again, his face directly opposite hers. She reaches out and starts caressing his cheek. Genis puts his finger on the tip of her nose and gives her a lopsided smile. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Carol intends to convince Heather to go to bed, but the other woman looks quite beside herself, which is a shocking contrast from her usual haughty demeanour. She thinks back to Karla’s words. Clearly, Phyla discovering flight is not only a shock for her…

“Let’s get some tea?”

Heather nods and mixes two blends together, one for herself and another for Carol. Her hands seem to move of their own accord, while her eyes are looking inward.

“Mar-Vell can look after Phyla,” she says reassuringly. “You shouldn’t run yourself ragged.” The teacup she is handed smells surprisingly similar to the one Karla drank, so she wonders if tea can be a prescription drug, too. The other one put her to sleep very efficiently, stronger than some pills she’s taken while in the military.

Heather sits down, her own cup in hands, and nods. “I know. It’s just… I lost her once. I’m afraid.”

“She’s not in danger, is she?”

“No, not unless she puts herself there.” Moondragon sighs. “She is convinced that Eros will not wake up. But it doesn’t look like this. He is healing, and if he needs more energy, we can give it to him. Sure, it might take a while, but he will be fine.”

“And yet you doubt.” That much is obvious. “Just how could Phyla know if there is no medical indication? You are the telepath and you didn’t notice anything. Or did you?”

Heather sighs. “No.”

This isn’t the whole story, not by a longshot. “Do you think Phyla will be more inclined to believe you, if we get a second opinion?”

Heather sighs. “I don’t know. It might take too long.” She covers her face with her hands. “There’s no reason for him not to wake up. That much is true. But that doesn’t mean he will not wake up. It might just mean that we missed something.”

Carol crosses her arms over her chest. “So, you think Phyla might be right.”

“I don’t know,” Heather says bitterly. “I hate not knowing. I can’t tell her not to worry, because she won’t believe me unless I’m certain, and I’m not.”

Carol nods, and takes a careful sip of her tea. It’s herbal—that much she can tell. “Does this change our options in any way?” Yet again, she wishes that Charles Xavier were alive. Or that Jean Grey had been the adult woman she had known, and not a teenage time-traveller. “We could check with Emma Frost?”

That seems like her alley.

Except Moondragon clearly finds the suggestion distasteful. Possibly, because presently Emma would out-cleavage her.

“If it were a matter that a telepath can solve, rest assured that I am more than capable of dealing with it,” Heather snaps. “It’s not.”

Carol raises her hands. “What about cosmic awareness? Do you think Mar-Vell could find out?”

Heather sighs and bites her lip. “Phyla had cosmic awareness. She lost it when she became Quasar… but when she bent over Eros, I thought I saw her turn blue for a moment.”

“It might have been your imagination?”

“It might.” She doesn’t sound like she believes it, at all. 

“This complicates matters.” Carol thinks for a moment, and eventually shakes her head. “I think we will need to ask Mar-Vell to check.”

Mouth split like an open wound, needle-like teeth flashing in an undulating sea of black. Tendrils of something organic, oily and dark coiling expectantly, probing the sound shield.

“I'm not a bad guy.” The words are slurred—it's hard to believe he can speak with so many teeth. “It's the suit.”

Teeth against solid sound, scraping and probing for purchase. Clawed hands trying to dig into the shield and rip it apart.

“You think a solid sound bubble will save you from me?”

The lipless mouth is always stretched into a grin, like a dead man's rictus. It spreads wider, impossibly wide—the plane should explode now, but she knows that this time it's not going to happen. The shield breaks and the clawed hand reaches towards her-

And Melissa wakes up, drenched with sweat and tangled in blankets.

Her hands up, shielding her face. At least she didn’t scream. She’d have hit Chewie, who sits on Genis’s chest and looks at her with scientific, detached curiosity.

Melissa lets out a deep breath, trying to quiet her racing heart. She sits up, trying to wrap the blanket around herself. 'Not all monsters are as cute as you', she whispers, too high pitched for anyone else's hearing. 'Some are just monsters.'

Chewie blinks and gives her an unimpressed look, squatting on the blanket, so Melissa can’t pull it closer. After a moment a tiny pink tongue starts to work on the flerken’s fur, which is a far cry from the tentacles she also keeps inside her.

That must be what brought on the nightmare, Melissa realises. To see Chewie eat Yon-rogg. Never mind that he survived and deserved it. She shivers, still cold, like someone hammered sheets of ice under her skin.

Chewie stops washing and gets up, traipsing over Genis's chest and making a move to poke his nose with her paw.

'No. Don't wake him.'

The look she receives is positively sardonic. She doesn't need to speak cat to understand it. "And who said Genis should wake her if he has a bad dream?"

Melissa can't raise a protest then and lets Chewie wake Genis up.

“Mhm? Hey,” he mumbles half-asleep. “Let me sleep.” Then, as he sees Melissa sit beside him and carefully extracts himself from the blanket and pulls her into his arms. “Did I wake you up again?”

“No, this time I woke myself up,” Melissa says and cuddles closer to him. “Nightmares. I sometimes get them too.”

Genis rubs her back. “You’re ice cold.”

Melissa rests her head on his chest, letting him rub some life back into her arms, before he pulls up the blanket around them. “Just... do you know about Venom? He- His name was Mac Garagan. He had this... costume. Some sort of space parasite thing. It could grow those... mini-tentacles- and he ate people,” Melissa says. She feels Chewie curl up on her lap, and make some squeaky, disrespectful noises.

“I think Chewie doesn’t like him,” Genis remarks and Melissa has to giggle.

“I didn’t like him either. I mean, Mac, when he was Mac, was sort of ok. Just, when the parasite was on him… They made him a Thunderbolt at one point, and Osborn just let him do his thing as long as there were no cameras.” She shudders. “And then he wanted to get rid of me—I mean Osborn. So, Bullseye and Venom tried to kill me. I got away, but... well, I think I've seen too many teeth in my life.”

Genis holds her close, while Chewie starts purring, acting like a giant warming pillow on her lap. “It's okay. They're not here, and if they had been, you can kick their asses from here into tomorrow.”

Melissa can't help but to smile then. “Thank you.”

“That's what I'm here for,” Genis says, and then, adds, “Well, and other... stuff. And things.”

That makes her chuckle. “I love you.”

Genis smiles. “I love you, too.”

He notices she’s still shivering. He runs his hand against her back, in a slow soothing motion--up and down, and says, “It’s okay. I’m here with you.

Having another warm body next to her, and strong arms wrapped around her helps. Snuggled up to Genis, with Chewie purring on her lap, she slowly warms up again. “Tomorrow I’m putting on a sweater,” she murmurs.

Chapter Text

Phyla continues sleeping while Carol and Heather are gone. Eros lies motionless, more like a facsimile of himself than the Titan Mar-Vell had known. It feels wrong seeing him like this, but there is even less that Mar-Vell can do than Heather or Genis could. At best, he can try seeing when Eros will most likely wake up, and even then it won’t be anything certain.

Still, that is always something—a little bit they can build more upon, so reaches out towards the most likely future and finds-

A pale motionless body, only the steady rise and fall of its chest indicating it’s still alive.

Mar-Vell frowns, but then he realizes what it means. Eros won’t wake up on his own. It doesn’t mean he won’t wake up at all, but rather that something needs to be done to wake him up and he cannot yet conceive of what it will be.

The hiss of the opening door breaks his concentration. He looks up and sees that Carol has come back with Heather. Clearly, sending Moondragon to bed will take more than a tea.

“Can you check if Eros will wake up?” Heather asks without preamble.

“I already did,” Mar-Vell replies. “He won’t on his own.” Heather grows pale, so he hastily adds, “That doesn’t mean he will never wake up. It means something has to happen that I cannot yet see. Cosmic awareness is not fortune telling, after all.”

“She knew.” Heather sits down bonelessly. “So I wasn’t wrong and Phyla’s cosmic awareness is back.”

Mar-Vell gives her a puzzled look. “You sound like this is a bad thing.”

“Given that it drove Genis mad and that Phyla was afraid of it all her life, yes, it is.”

There is a number of things Mar-Vell wants to tell Heather at this point—starting that maybe, she shouldn’t use cosmic awareness as a convenient excuse to pretend Genis hadn’t needed help long before. Except, if he says it right then, he will snap.

“We should talk about it later, when we we’re no longer all so stressed,” he says instead.

For once, Heather realises she went too far and just nods. “We should. And unless Phyla notices, don’t tell her, because she is stressed enough already.”

“We won’t tell her. If she is so sure it’s gone, she shouldn’t suspect it now,” Carol agrees. 

Mother. Held in her arms. Her tears like rain on his face. Her hand holding his, gently squeezing. Mother.

No, not mother. The thought of mother. The image. His head resting on her breast. A child, helpless and innocent. And cast down.

Not mine. A scream. Not mine. Take it away.

Dark. Cold. Alone.

A dripping sound. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip.

White light skewers his brain. A stake skewers his heart.

“As if anybody will look for you. As if anybody will find you. I have you. I keep you. They never came for you. Why should it be different now?”

He’s pinned like an insect to a board, his blood dripping to the ground. A knife gently cuts away strips of his heart.

“You are not using this anyway. You don’t need it.”

Purple fingers hold the knife, but in the darkness, a woman is looking on.

Mother.

The hand grabs his head, yanks it back. Cuts into his forehead. “Not using this, either.”

Mother turns and walks away. Not mine.

The voice is of the sepulchre, death on the vine. Black and purple. Red eyes bore into his.

Fingers wriggle inside his empty head. Shadow figures dance on the inside of his skull.

“See? You did not need it.”

She walks up to him again, watching him from empty sockets. Not mother, death. Or one and the same. And another one. Not worth living, that one. Not worth dying, either. Her fingers run along his cheek, his flayed chest, painting figures of ice. Mine.

The knife cuts, and cuts. Down his back, drawing pictures.

Is he screaming? He cannot scream.

They dismantle him. Rubbing salt in the wounds as they go. The purple man laughs. Blind. So blind. Blind to me, blind to you. Who cared? They hate you now.

Cut into pieces, he falls apart. A heap on the floor. His eyes roll away.

Death picks up one of them. Or is it her? She licks it. “Window. Window to the soul. Nothing on the other side. Just he.”

The purple man leans close and kisses her. She kisses back and laughs, holding him in the palm of her hand. All empty spaces. So much room.

He is dropped, falling. No, he has fallen forever.

Not mine. Take it away.

Cast down.

And falls.

Falls.

Forever.

Chapter Text

Una looks at something in the freezer with a look of absolute disdain on her face. Rick, who has snuck some pizzas from Carol’s ship and was going to deposit them somewhere safe on Moondragon’s ship, wonders if he should poke the dragon.

As luck would have it—and his luck has always been rotten—the choice is taken out of his hands. Una closes the door to the freezer and turns around.

“What is that that you don’t do with milk?” she asks. “You leave it to rot, you freeze it—why in Hala’s name would you even think about drinking it? You’re not a baby!”

“You’d have to ask the first humans who decided to try it,” Rick said. “And they’ve been dead for a long long time. But I suppose they thought ‘hey, babies grow like crazy on the stuff! Let’s see if we can stuff ourselves with it, since our animals are already making it anyway.’”

“That’s a very… human approach to things,” Una says. The word ‘human’ sounds like an insult. “But why do you freeze it?”

“That’s ice cream,” Rick explains. “It’s a dessert. A very nice one. You could try it—uh, there’s a version without milk, actually.”

“Well, it’s nice that you’re already thinking about the non-humans who cannot eat it once they’re no longer infants,” Una says, somewhat mollified.

And because Rick is a masochist and has been reading on lactose intolerance a week ago when he had nothing better to do, he says, “Actually, not even all adult humans can digest it. The mutation that lets us do it, is about as recent as agriculture. Er, I mean, herding.”

Una blinks. “You mean to tell me that at some point, a human adult squeezed some animal’s… dirty mammary glands until they got milk out of it, drank it, got sick and decided that they’re going to keep on drinking it?”

Rick shrugs. “I’d assume that human would be one of the lucky ones who had the mutation.”

“That makes some more sense,” Una says weakly.

“But you should probably ask Moondragon, she’s science-y,” Rick adds.

Una peers at the freezer, then at the stack of pizzas in Rick’s hands and then emphatically shakes her head. “I think I’d rather not know.” 

Heather had always walked her own paths. All of his children had in their own ways. Thanos, his heart and thoughts hidden in the dark; Eros, like wind and song—each as unreachable for their father in their own way. Heather had been more like a cat, or like the dragon she took her name from—proud and unbending. And Mar-Vell—bright, honourable Mar-Vell, who had died just as he was finding his life.

It does not come as a surprise when Heather contacts him out of the blue, after having forgone all contact for so long. She always came back when he least expected it.

“What happened, child?” he asks, cutting through her greeting. A'Lars can see the strain behind her eyes, and the tension in her posture. Something had happened. Let it not be young Phyla, he thinks. The girl had caused Heather enough suffering.

“It's Eros,” she says, and looks down. “He was hurt.”

Mentor frowns. As an Eternal, he should recover from everything that wasn’t outright fatal, so why is Heather looking like that? The ice-cold hand of fear grips his heart and squeezes. “Is he dead?”

“No, no!” Heather looks shocked. “He is getting well.”

“And yet, you are calling me and look frightened of telling me something. If he was recovering and wanted me to know, he could call me himself?”

She swallows. “He is in a coma. His body heals, yet he will not wake up.”

This is a surprise. It shouldn’t happen. Eternal physiology… Except clearly, it’s not helping. He sits down heavily, and asks, “What happened?”

Heather pauses, as if gathering her thoughts. Then she reaches a conclusion, it seems, and with one sentence cuts out his heart. “Mar-Vell somehow managed to get himself back to life.”

He sits still for an eternity, his thoughts in turmoil.

“The Kree found out, somehow,” Heather continues. “And they thought they could use Eros as bait.”

It's like a nightmare, where you have to pay for what you wish for most with what makes you a monster for even considering it.

“I will transmit the medical data,” Heather says. “Maybe you or ISAAC can find out why he doesn’t wake up and how to reverse it?”

Mentor nods, somewhat relieved. Coma is not dead and if it is a medical problem, with all the vast resources of Titan behind them, he should be able to find a solution. “We will give it our all.”

There is one thing he desperately wants to ask… And doesn’t. If wishes were horses... We would all be monsters. Until Eros is saved, he will not ask to speak to Mar-Vell. He doesn’t deserve to.

ISAAC shows it received her transmission, so he breaks the connection without another word and throws himself into his research. 

Phyla doesn’t register what she is seeing for a moment. There are bits of her own dreams clinging to her mind, colouring her perception, and it’s only once a few seconds pass that she realizes that a. she is no longer dreaming and b. that it is her father napping opposite to her and that c. that woman next to him leaning on him very comfortably.

But, of course, he’d have friends who are not from Titan, she realizes. It’s not like he had sprung from the soil of Kree-Lar, adult and chosen to be the Protector of the Universe. And given the situation, she supposes he’d be glad to have a friend around.

In fact, now that she had a better look at the woman, she realizes she and her father look somewhat similar. Maybe they’re related? It’s not like she knows anything about his family, other than that it presumably existed.

True, none of them had ever approached her, but perhaps they had good reasons.

Phyla closes her eyes for a moment. She’s going to rest them for a minute, and then see how Eros is doing.

Just a minute.

Chapter Text

Genis wakes before Melissa. Given he didn’t do anything than a couple of exercises and sit on his backside and read comics, while she was fighting battles and then looking after Phyla, she has every right to sleep in. He carefully extracts himself from her embrace and decides to make breakfast. Maybe he can find Rick or Carol or at worst Heather to help him?

After all, he might have learned to make food that actually was… well, not things you throw into a pan because that’s what you have in the fridge and hope for the best, but he was still a far way away from making anything that was always going to end up tasty.

He still makes his way to the kitchen, and spends a few seconds staring at the counter. He could make cereal? It’s mostly just pouring juice or milk over things. That shouldn’t be hard.

Carol has several types of cereal he mixes in a bowl, before Chewie saunters in and demands being petted and then fed. She sniffs the cereal with disdain and strolls out again. He scratches his head and wonders if this means anything about his cereal mixing skills.

As he tries to decide, he hears someone enter the kitchen.

“I’ll feed you in a moment, you hellbeast,” Carol grumbles.

“She already ate,” Genis says turning around.

“Oh,” Carol says and looks at Chewie sternly. The flerken sits down and starts licking her paw studiously. Then, she looks at Genis again. “Don’t worry about me, and finish making yourself breakfast.”

“Um… I’m actually trying to make something nice for Melissa,” Genis says. And glances at the cereal.

Carol looks at it too, and then pats his shoulder. There’s an awkward silence between them for a moment, until she asks, “Do you need help? I can tell you how to make something warm.”

“Yes, please,” Genis says quickly. In case she reconsiders.

“What does she like?” Carol asks, and Genis suddenly realizes he is a horrible boyfriend. He has absolutely no clue. It must be showing on his face since Carol says, “Okay, so you didn’t eat out with her yet.”

Genis tries to remember something useful about his past girlfriends. There’s the tiny problem of them not being human, though. Thankfully, he remembers that Marlo is human, and that she would make herself and Rick waffles on some occasions.

“Um… I guess she’d like something sweet?” he hazards.

“That’s usually a good guess for most humans,” Carol says and flashes a grin at him. “Let’s see—we don’t have a waffle iron, so that’s out.” She peers into the fridge and nods to herself. “I’m going to teach you how to make crepes.”

Melissa wakes up when she smells something sweet. She sits up lazily and stretches, then looks up to see Genis with a tray. He sits down next to her and puts it down between them, and gives her a half-terrified, half-hopeful look.

“I made them,” he says, indicating the plate. There are actual crepes on them, looking nice and golden. They’re covered in syrup, there’s a small bowl of golden fruit cubes beside it and a mug of coffee for each of them.

“They smell lovely,” she says. “And I’m sure they taste as nice.”

Genis breathes out, and seems to be somewhat at a loss for words, so Melissa invites herself and tries one. They’re covered in maple syrup, and really quite nice. The fruit turns out to be mango, incredibly juicy and sweet.

“You know you will have to make them more often now?” she says.

“Oh, sure,” Genis says. “I need to practice anyway—they only started looking round at the very end.” Then, he turns red. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I wouldn’t have noticed, since you folded them,” Melissa laughs, and offers a bite of her fork to him. Genis takes the bite. “So, when did you learn to make those?”

“Er… today. From Carol,” Genis replies. “So, you like them?”

Melissa nods and takes another bite. 

After helping Genis, Carol decides to make some more crepes for herself and Mar-Vell. Since he is still on Moondragon’s ship she just puts the dough into a plastic box, packs syrup and fruit and walks over to collect him. Fortunately Heather has already spelled him in the medbay, and he sits in the central area of the ship, looking asleep on his feet.

“Good morning,” she says with a grin. “I brought breakfast.”

He just nods and she starts setting up a pan and plundering Heather’s cupboard for dishes. The clanking seems to wake him up some and he begins to watch her.

“This smells nice.” He gets up then, and moves closer to peer over her shoulder at the pan.

“Crepes.” Carol grins. “I taught Genis to make them for Melissa and then decided to make some for us, too.”

“Genis can cook?” Mar-Vell sounds a bit surprised.

“Well, he can cook crepes now.” Carol flips a pancake – yes, showing off is terrible, sorry, not sorry – “He might want to learn more.”

Mar-Vell kisses her neck and wraps his arms around her waist. It distracts her until the crepe brings her back to reality by starting to smell. “Ok, no kissing while cooking. Reality tends to go away and that is fatal here.” She dumps the sad burned remains into the recycling unit and pours another one into the pan.

There’s a slightly impish smile on Mar-Vell’s face as he says: “I thought that was the point of kissing?”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not hungry?” Carol laughs. “You can’t have both, you know.”

Mar-Vell pulls away—which Carol does regret—and holds his hands up. “I’ll behave. Do you need any help?”

“You could make coffee,” Carol says. “And you can check if you want anything else with them other than maple syrup and mango. Or you can clean up after we’re done eating.”

“I’ll take the cleaning duty,” Mar-Vell says, “since Heather doesn’t actually have coffee on her ship.”

“I knew I forgot something,” Carol sighs. 

Chapter Text

Phyla wakes up for good about half an hour after Mar-Vell has left to get some sleep. Heather uses that she’s still sleepy to check on her, but her lover seems to be healing fine.

Then, because quiet moments are meant to pass quickly, it turns out Phyla has questions. About his father.

“Does my father have a sister?” she asks.

“Not that I know of,” Heather answers somewhat puzzled as to why Phy would ask about that.

“Oh. So, who was the woman with him here?” she asks. “There was a blonde woman with him. I woke up for a moment and saw them napping.”

Obviously, something powerful out there has it in for Heather. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be the one explaining to Phyla that her father managed to rekindle his old romance. Or whatever it was that was between him and Danvers, when they had first met.

“That was Carol Danvers,” she says. “She’s… well, what she is, is rather complicated, but to simplify, she was born human and is now part Kree. They’ve known each other, apparently. And now, they moved on to knowing each other intimately.”

Phyla looks at her for a while, and Heather can truly appreciate how tactful she had been. Who knew this could be so hard?

“You know, somebody could have told me that Genis has things in common with my father,” Phyla says. “Like, well, finding girlfriends while dead.”

“If it helps, they knew each other before he died,” Heather says dryly. And then, something Phyla says makes her remember the one time she was desperate enough to chat with Tigra for a while. “And from what I know, Carol Danvers is not the type to wait to be found.”

Phyla watches her with wide eyes, and Heather really doesn't need telepathy to guess that she is imagining that. And if that blue flicker on her scar was not a figment of imagination, her cosmic awareness is being as unruly as Genis’s. Fortunately, Phyla doesn’t seem to notice, she just turns bright red.

“I... regret ever mentioning that,” she says weakly.

“I’m sorry,” Heather says. “I suppose it’s not something children want to think about in connection with their parents.” She definitely does not want to imagine Drax at anything close to romantic, EVER.

And then, Phyla starts frowning thoughtfully. “Just what is it?”

“Don’t tell me my father had something with you, too. Because not waiting to be found does sound like you a lot. And Mentor once mentioned you had a crush on my father.”

It doesn’t sound offended, just thoughtful. With a tiny bit of apprehension, as kids feel when they start to discover their parents had a life before becoming parents and did stuff they would probably be annoyed to find their kids doing.

“No, he did not. Not for lack of trying on my part, though. But I met him when he was still bonded to Rick Jones and I guess that sort of ruined his interest in relationships.”

She can basically see the wheels turn in Phyla’s head, round and round and round, and her emotions, from shock to exasperation, to contemplation, to finally horror. “Gods of Titan. I keep forgetting how old you are.”

Heather gives her an ‘OH, RLY?’ kind of look and then laughs. It is just a tiny bit forced, because sometimes she does feel old. “Well, in his shoes, I could have done without an audience, too.”

Phyla had actually never considered that, when thinking about the negabands. Or, to tell the truth, she had never really considered that it wasn’t just Genis who had been bonded to Rick Jones, but her father as well. And really, imagining someone watching her while she’s having sex is very much a loud resounding “no”.

Phyla nods. “Yes. That is one of the last things where you want someone sitting in your head…” Her voice trails off, as she’s looking thoughtful again. “Did you ever meet this Una? The medic, I mean.”

“No, she died before I got to know your father, and before he got bonded to Rick. Why?”

Phyla wonders if she can ask her father. Now that she thinks about it, most female Kree soldiers had been assertive. It had made no sense to assume she had been a shy wallflower. Those probably tended not to pick the military as their career of choice. Just because she was killed didn’t mean she had been a helpless victim. It just meant she met something tougher than her. Which could happen to anyone. Thoughts of Thanos creep up on her conscious mind and she squishes them.

Better to think about the strange discovery of her father being not perfect. Slightly unfair, sure, but really, what business did the woman have to tell her this?

“Because of what you said, and what one of the Kree told me…” She bites her lip. “It feels so weird to see my father as a person, instead of a legend.”

She still can’t imagine her mother acting like Heather around her father. It’s just… Really, the way Elysius had talked about Mar-Vell hadn’t really been close to the way one speaks of someone they love, but more like… like a priestess talks about their deity.

And now that she thought this, she realizes just how creepy this sounds.

“What did he tell you?” Heather sits down on the bed. Phyla feels her cheeks turn pink. It’s so weird—she and Heather have never been a chaste couple, and yet talking about her father like this is embarrassing.

“She. It was the old medic. You met her, too. She told me Una was not my father’s first love, but that he had an affair or at least had sex with an academy instructor.” She frowns. “Now I wonder if that was her, since she was quite a bit older than my father. I think. I mean, he has not been aging while he was dead. Flark, this is confusing.”

Heather takes Phyla’s hand. “What bothers you about this? When your father was sent to earth, he was older than me. It is unlikely that Una was his first romantic relationship.”

“That’s not it. But, an instructor, maybe his instructor, isn’t that inappropriate?”

She knows enough to realize there would have been a power imbalance. And that Kree tend to apply tribal logic to the oddest and least expected of areas of their life.

“I don’t know? You could ask him.” Heather says. It doesn’t look like she had known about that, but neither does she look too bothered.

Phyla’s eyes go wide. “No. No I don’t think that’s… that’s something I could actually ask.”

Chapter Text

Heather has just finished talking to Mentor who transmitted his preliminary findings and some tentative ideas at therapy, when Genis enters the bridge, and stares at the screen, where Mentor’s image just winked out.

“He had some ideas”, she says, forestalling his questions. “Nothing definite, but there are some things I can try.”

Genis nods. “Do you think he will find a way to wake him up?”

Mentor seemed as puzzled as she was, but she tries to put on a hopeful face. “There is very little Mentor and ISAAC together won’t find out. It might take a while, since the libraries of Titan are vast, but their records reach back thousands of years. They will something.”

Genis accepts that, but he seems distracted. “I really hope so.” For a moment it looks like he wants to leave again, then he takes a deep breath and adds: “I... have been thinking.”

She wants to say something sarcastic and only just bites her tongue. If she was better at accepting the wisdom of others, they might not be in this mess. So, she looks at him expectantly.

“After you muted my memories... I noticed that... Well, Eros seems to change at some point? Like he stops caring. Or decides everything is a bother... I don’t know how to put it in words. Did you notice?”

Heather covers her face with her hands. She should have realized it so much sooner. It was right there, right in front of her, and she didn't even pause to reflect a moment, to remember. They would not know. They could not know. “Oh, Gods of Titan. Gods...”

Mar-Vell does not know. Of course. How could he? He would not know what to look for, and without some anchor, a starting point he would not even know there is something he should look for. Had he been there, he probably would have seen it—and clearly, so did Genis.

“Heather? Are you ok?” He gingerly puts a hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m not ok.” She looks at him, aware that he probably sees her tears and not caring. “If anybody ever tells you are not your father’s son, they are idiots and blind.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and – on tiptoe – gently kisses his forehead. “I ask your forgiveness for every nasty and disparaging thing I ever said or thought about you.”

He looks utterly confused, which is of course understandable. So, she tries to explain. “You noticed. None of us did, none.”

And then she explains about Thanos and the Trial... 

Melissa wouldn't have to know Genis at all to know there is something wrong when he comes in—he looks like the Hulk had metaphorically punched him. And then probably told him several very unpleasant things.

She looks up from her laptop, closes it and walks to him.

“What's wrong?” she asks, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He only just than seems to notice her, and pulls her into a hug. She feels how tense his muscles are, as well as the occasional shiver that passes through him.

“Remember the nightmares I've been having?” he says into her hair. “I... asked Moondragon to stop them while you weren't there. In case I have one and- and my powers are on. And now I asked her to undo that.”

Melissa looks up at him. “Did anything go wrong?”

She hopes not. If it did… Really, Genis has enough problems already, without Moondragon playing dream surgeon on his head.

“I... don't think so,” Genis says. “It's just... Whatever she did made a lot of what I remembered seem like it happened to someone else. And now they're mine again, and... I guess, I need a moment to get used to it.”

 “In case it’s too much?” She pulls him down beside her on the bed and wraps her arms around him. “I’m here.”

“Thank you.” Genis pulls up his legs and settles into a meditative pose, but he keeps holding her hand. He kisses her hair. “I love you.”

“I know.” 

Genis makes another attempt at meditating. Or at least, sitting still and letting the the memories Moondragon had freed fight for his attention like a pack of angry dogs. Melissa is leaning against his arm, a warm presence, a reminder that he is not alone anymore.

There is one memory that is growing ever louder, chasing the others away.

We made you, and we can break you.

The words from the nightmare are back, and now he knows the voice. He knows whose fingers had been at his throat; what he had buried under the black ice, in the dark.

Mother. He flinches as if physically struck, before involuntarily curling up, his head on Melissa’s lap. She starts stroking his hair, setting a counterpoint to the sensations hitting him like blows as his ordeal comes back in full force.

It hurts to even think about it. So very much—to know that she had enjoyed making him beg to stop, but at the same time, he wonders if the words are still true. Or had they ever been? Yes, she had created him, and his sister, but did it truly give her the power she claimed to have over them? It certainly didn’t give her the right to use it.

He shifts slightly, so that he can look at Melissa. She smiles reassuringly, though her eyes are wet and gently touches his cheek to wipe away tears. “Still here”, he tries to reassure her.

“Good to know,” she answers.

He curls up again, holding her hand, and goes back into the memory. There are other things he notices now—that he thinks about now.

That Eros never knew how to deal with a son, but he had an answer to someone who'd claim godhood. No matter if it had been just another desperate attempt for someone to finally make the pain go away in the only way he could think of.

Was this why Phyla had been there? To learn that older brothers who have become monsters can be stopped?

We made you, and we can break you.

Or was she there to learn the same lesson he had? Become what Elysius wants you to be—do not stray from the path. Or else.

He remembers how mother would not meet his eyes when he had asked her what she thought about him taking the title of Captain Marvel.

He had been away from Titan for so long, while his sister remained there. Learning how to use her powers, while he had to learn it all on his own. Why had he not questioned that earlier?

Why had he not wondered why Eros was on Titan so rarely? Why Mentor and his son almost never spoke?

There are too many questions in his head for him to answer on his own.

Genis opens his eyes again and looks at Melissa. He sits up and tries to give her a reassuring smile, but it likely looks more like a grimace. She wraps her arms around him and he buries his face in her shoulder. She strokes his hair and hums a quiet melody that seems strangely familiar.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asks after a while.

“I don’t think so…” Genis hesitates. “I… Just hold me, please.”

Melissa kisses his cheek – which ends up somewhere around his ear, given the awkward position they are in – and says softly: “I’ll hold you till the sun goes out, if necessary.”

It makes him chuckle a little, before listening to her humming again, assuring himself he is not alone in the cold and dark. He will wait for until he can do something other than just hide away from the world.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Genis uncurls. He does so slowly, deliberately, and then kisses Melissa. She reaches up to touch his face, her fingers brushing against his cheek. Then, he covers her hand with his.

When they part, Melissa is slightly out of breath.

“I don’t think I’m going to recommend that to anyone,” he says with a wry smile. “It feels like someone made a puzzle out of my memories, and added new pieces while they were at it.”

“That sounds rather confusing,” Melissa says. But being confused seems so much better than the shell-shock from before.

“It is,” he says. “I think there were things I hadn’t realized before.” He looks at the wall for a moment. “Like…” He hesitates for a while then. “I thought Eros was disappointed in me, just like everyone else. But now- I think for most of the time, he had no clue how to treat me. And then—Heather told me about it. I noticed he was acting differently, but I just- Why am I always so stupid?”

Melissa puts a finger on his lips then. “You’re not. Back when it happened—whatever it was—you couldn’t have seen every aspect of the situation. No one can.” She pulls her hand away then, before she continues. “When Osborn was made responsible for Thunderbolts, and it became an official sanctioned program, they had us undergo psychotherapy. That was about the only good thing that ever came from the whole thing, by the way. Anyway, those sessions are usually recorded. So that it’s possible to go back to what you’ve said. Because there always things you don’t notice until later.”

Genis looks at her for a while. It seems that he wants to say something, but he keeps on reconsidering.

“You’re not stupid,” she repeats. “Were you the only person who knew him? The only one who could have noticed something was not right?”

Genis shakes his head then. “I guess he’d have denied it, if I said something. And if there was someone else, he’d probably just make me sound like an idiot.”

“Jerk,” Melissa says firmly. “And I know—you still care about him. It doesn’t go away—I still love my father. I know he won’t ever be the parent he should have been. I’m never going to talk to him. But I don’t want him to suffer.”

“It’s hard—the memories my mother implanted feel like real ones,” Genis said. “And he was my father in them. He knew that, and he tried for a while. But then I found out that he wasn’t, and I guess he felt he shouldn’t, or couldn’t compete.” He bites his lip. “And then, Thanos caught him and messed with his head and his powers, and I suppose he started resenting me. At least, that’s how he sounded sometimes. Sometimes he was nice.” He runs his hand over his face. “Or maybe I’m still getting it all wrong.”

Melissa thinks about peeling layers of an onion then. They should go back to Earth, is her second thought. They should go back to Earth, because no matter how much she wants to help, she isn’t a therapist. She isn’t objective, and she can only help so much.

“This is all very fresh now,” she says. “Maybe you should sleep over it before you draw conclusions?”

Genis nods. “That might be a good idea. And it’s not Eros or Phyla are going to run away if I’m not going to see them right now.”

Thinking of Phyla’s shape during the journey Melissa has to agree. “I don’t think your sister should have any excitement right now, either”, she adds. “The medic who treated her said she should mostly sleep for the next week or so, because moving would keep her from healing, even if she somehow manages it.”

“Just who is with her now?” Genis wonders, “I think I heard my father and Carol in her room when I came back. And Heather was busy with me.” 

Rick wonders how come he’s the new babysitter for Marv’s adult children. But apparently, Heather was called away to discuss the results of Mentor’s research into Eros’s condition and for some reason, both Captains Marvel were… busy. Which apparently left him the only candidate.

Okay, well, babysitting might be too much—more like sick-sitting. Sick-sitting Phyla-Vell, who was watching him with a very thoughtful expression.

He does not trust that kind of thoughtful expressions.

“Should I be afraid?” he asks.

“No, why?” Phyla asks. “Maybe ask my father? He knows how to use cosmic awareness.”

Rick resists the urge to facepalm. It seems that Elysius was a carrier of a dormant literal-mindedness gene. “I meant that you were looking at me like you want to ask me something.”

“Um… Well, you know my father better than I do,” she says. “And I was wondering if you’ve met the medic he was with when he came to Earth.”

“No,” Rick says. He knew of her. And of the time when her body got possessed by something, but neither qualified as knowing the woman. “Why?”

“I was just wondering about… um… him,” the young woman says. “Heather said he likes assertive woman.”

Ah. Trust good ole Moondragon to put it like that. “He likes bossy women who want him in their bed now and covered in-“ And then his brain caught up with what he was saying, so he tried backpedalling as quickly as he could, “with a blanket. Yep. Totally meant to say that.”

Phyla gives him the most unimpressed look ever. “Tell me exactly how my brother managed to put up with you for so long? Or my father?”

“Well, your father is a saint, and for some reason he likes me,” Rick replies with a crooked grin. “Also, it’s not like either of them had a choice for most of the time.” And because his mouth always runs away at the most inopportune moments, he adds, “So better stay away from any negabands or you might complete the set.”

Phyla’s expression turns thoughtful again, and in hindsight, that was the point when he should have run.

“So, just what is it like, being bonded? Do you really see everything the other person does?”

Chapter Text

Bucky takes a moment to sag in relief, when he is out of sight. It’s not that he expected anything more to go pear-shaped, but at the same time old habits die hard. Even without Tanalth in the picture, he knew Kree had other ways of causing trouble for them.

It would have been beyond stupid of them, but looking at what he had learned of the Kree so far, it seemed that being stubborn to the point of suicide was a virtue to them.

But everyone is safely aboard the ship again. From now, missions won’t take them as far afield and they will be able to deploy in teams.

“I got rid of all the bugs again,” Fixer says, as he enters the cockpit. “They’re good, but I’m better.”

“Good job,” Bucky answers. “Just don’t get complacent.”

“Never do,” Fixer replies as he sits down in front of the controls. “Karla is talking to the Moonstone, by the way.”

That might not be the best sign, Bucky thinks. In fact, it could be a very bad sign.

“Should I check on her?” he asks, but Fixer shakes his head.

“She’s using her psychology tone on it,” he says, his lips quirking into a smile. “And being very reasonable. You can go for entertainment, but she will probably kick you out.” 

It’s not really Ajes’ha inside the Moonstone—that Karla has known for a while. It’s just a program, a facsimile that is using the ancient Kree’s memories. If only it were less pushy about imparting them on her…

“Look, just because you are my ancestor, it doesn’t mean that you can run my life,” she says.

+You wanted my wisdom,+ a voice that sounds far too much like her own replies. +It frightened you, and you had me silenced.+

“Your wisdom is ‘kill the bad guys’!” Karla snaps. “You see the world in black and white—a criminal can never be reformed, a hero can commit no sins. This is impossible to follow.”

Even if it’s just a program, Karla can practically feel the exasperation. She has to keep telling herself that she is quarrelling with a cavewoman. A tribal, whose understanding of morality is a simple they versus us.

+So is yours, granddaughter,+ the voice says. +Even if you are pink, you make a fine Kree.+

“Why do I get the feeling you’re saying this because you know I will think of it as an insult?” Karla sighs.

+Because you are my grandchild,+ the voice replies. +And it’s not an insult. You are strong and you know your direction. It’s a pity you lacked guidance when you needed it.”

Finally. Finally, Karla sees an opening. “So, you admit I no longer need it.” There is a moment of silence, so Karla continues. “Look, I will ask for your advice, but when I actually want it. I’m sure you can see this is reasonable.”

The voice hesitates once more, before finally saying, +Very well.+ 

Abe breaths in the smell of the MRE. For once, it actually smells appetizing: almost like proper spaghetti with meat sauce. It’s not that he has anything against salad, but living somewhere were meat is some sort of barbaric novelty food looks like a nightmare. A fairly mild one, but nevertheless.

“I’d kill for a steak right now,” he says.

“No kidding,” Erik laughs. “Not one place where you can get a decent meal on the whole world. All they give you is rabbit food.”

“Makes you hope they’ll never run into a football team,” Abe jokes. “Can you imagine getting invaded, because a few jocks insulted aliens over the unmanliness of their food?”

Erik sighs. “Yeah, given that I’d be one of those jocks back in high school.”

Well, that went in an unexpected direction. Although, of course, Abe can now see Erik being in the football team in highschool—the big athletic guys tended to be. It’s just that before, it hadn’t occurred to him.

He claps his friend’s shoulder. “Good thing we’re all grown up, isn’t it? I would have whined about the rabbit food too as a teen.” He stirs the food, and adds, “Besides, right now, I want a taste of home. I guess it doesn’t have to be steak. Could be a hamburger too.”

“Well, you’ll have to do with what we have,” Erik replies. “And hey, it’s not so bad. You could be eating your own socks.”

“I guess they would at least taste of home,” Abe sighs with a crooked grin.

Chapter Text

Phyla is probably asleep. And Eros is comatose. Going there would accomplish nothing, but the whole thing keeps irritating him like an itch. So, once Melissa is soundly asleep, he gets up under Chewie’s disapproving glare and sneaks out.

This is getting a habit, but he hopes that his father is watching Phyla and he can maybe talk to him about what he found out. Or maybe Heather has been considerate enough to tell him about Thanos?

Once outside of Carol’s ship, he sees the light behind her cabin window and knows that she and his father are there and still awake. So, for now, talking to his father is out, he doesn’t want a repeat performance of “child walking in on parents making a sibling”. And that is a thought he wishes he had not had – he’s got enough trouble with the siblings he already has.

Forcefully discarding the idea, he decides it’s probably going to be Heather watching over Phy and he tries to think of an excuse – except it turns out there’s nobody watching in the medbay, so he had been wrong about that. He had been wrong about Phyla, too. And Moondragon clearly had underestimated her determination. She half sits, half lies in the chair beside Eros’s bed and holds his good hand with both of hers. Her head lolls against her shoulder, the skin pale and moist. She wears a simple night shirt, open at the front, showing all the bandages and taping on her chest. There are some blood stains showing on it, but they are dark and old. With her sunken eyes, shaved head and gaunt features, her face disfigured by the livid scar he noticed before, she looks like a stranger, a far cry from the angry cosmic warrior he faces in his nightmare.

When Genis enters, she raises her head. Her eyes are tired and bloodshot, but full of emotion. “Genis, I’m…” “Don’t”, he interrupts, realising what she wants to say, “don’t say you’re sorry. People keep apologising to me and I can’t hear it anymore.”

She smiles. It looks bone tired. “Then I won’t.”

Since he is towering over her, and that feels uncomfortable, he pulls over another chair and sits down on it. “I… I wanted to see you.”

“Yes?”

“Should you even be up?” He blushes. “Not why I came, but… You look awful. Sorry. You should be in bed.” And then he realises that this was probably the reason for people watching her. “Shouldn’t there be someone with you?”

Phyla keeps smiling. It reminds him of the tired, yet beatific smile he saw on paintings in churches. “It’s ok. I’m tough. And Heather probably forgot she sent Rick Jones to bed.” She closes her eyes for a moment, then looks up again. “Genis, why are you here?”

“I…” It is damned awkward. He can’t tell her he wanted to see what he feels about her. And her appearance, her vulnerability has thrown him off, completely. He probably should talk to her, but he can’t remember if he ever had a normal conversation with his sister. A real one. One where they were not bitching at each other. Or trying to kill each other. In the end, he has to go back to Melissa’s words and the awe he has heard in them. “You were awesome. Melissa said you went against this Tanalth with a hole in your head. I never met her, but Ronan the Accuser wiped the floor with me.”

Phyla stares at him. She bites her lip. “Thanks. I just couldn’t let her win. Heather said it’s a special kind of stupid I’m developing, and I guess she is right.” A choking sound rattles around her throat and it takes Genis a moment to realise she is laughing. And crying. “Laughing hurts”, she explains.

Genis gets up again. It’s just too awkward to be around her, especially when she is like this. When he should probably help her and just doesn’t know how. He wishes he brought Melissa. “I’ll let you rest.” And then, because he can’t help it, he asks: “Do you think he even notices you are here?”

She says nothing for a moment. Then she shakes her head. “I know he doesn’t. If he did, he’d wake up.” Silent tears keep spilling from her eyes, forming a rivulet in the scar on her face. “I cannot reach him, and neither can Heather.”

Out of instinct, Genis reaches out to wipe the tears from her cheek. The scar tissue is hard and stiff under his fingers. “Who did this to you?” He flinches, wanting to call back the words, but she smiles again and answers. “I did.”

His bottom drops on the chair again. “How? Why? Why would you hurt yourself like that?” Rick’s voice in his head – the one that his own subconscious uses to provide unwanted commentary – whistles. ‘Seems like you aren’t the most messed up of Marv’s children, after all.”

Phyla is silent for a while. She looks down at her hands, still wrapped around Eros’s.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Really, who is he to fish for her secrets? He probably should just go. While he gathers his wits, and tenses to stand up, Phyla begins to speak again.

“For those who were beyond pain. After the Annihilation Wave, so many were dead. So many. I ripped the Quantum Bands from Annihilus, but that didn’t give back life to his victims, especially not Wendell, who had worn them before and who Annihilus slaughtered to take them.” Unconsciously, she raises a hand and follows the angry red line on her face. “I wanted their memory, his memory to be a part of me.”

As she recalls war and death, Genis understands that she is no longer the sheltered child he remembers. He hesitates, before taking her hand. He can’t be afraid of her anymore. He still feels… angry somewhere inside and hurt. But he also recalls what he said to Una and discovers he never actually knew his sister and until he does, his emotions will remain confused. Except, let them be confused? If there is one thing Melissa and his father and even Carol and Rick showed him since his return it’s that the world can be confusing for everyone and nobody has a manual that contains the right feelings and words for every situation.

So, he puts his fingers over Phyla’s – and thus also over Eros’s – and says, “It’s ok. You don’t need to explain to me.”

Her smile is so tired, but also grateful. “Heather would probably call it survivor’s guilt.” 

It’s unfair to drag her brother into this. But she doesn’t see another way. She knows Genis already helped Eros, saved his life, so he probably won’t be opposed to helping him get well… And there is no way she could leave the medbay herself, not without having to draw so much energy from the ship Heather would notice.

She swallows, the damaged tissues contracting painfully even at the minute movement. “Genis… I need your help.” His eyes widen, shocked. She adds, hastily, “I know a way to make Eros wake up. To make him know I’m here, and he’s safe.”

His utter confusion would probably comical, if she was not so desperate. She must convince him before he runs off to get Heather, or her father and before they tie her to the bed like the Kree did.

“Listen, please. Let me explain.” When Genis gives a minute nod, she continues, aware she is babbling. “If I get the negabands, and use them, one on him, one on me – I know this happened to Rick Jones and father – I’ll be able to get into his head. Deeper than Heather with her telepathy. He’ll hear me then.”

Genis looks like she had punched him for a moment then and shakes his head. “This is a bad idea. You- look, you might wake him up, but this- This doesn’t have to be a good thing, okay?”

She had pulled his hands away and now they’re balled into fists so tightly that his knuckles have turned white.

“Why not?” she asks. “I’m not going to tell him anything hurtful—just that he’s safe.”

“What if it’s not enough?” Genis asks, his voice tight. “What if no matter how kind you are, he won’t listen? What if he doesn’t wake up? What will you tell him then?”

“Then nothing will have changed.” She closes her eyes, looking for that well of strength, of conviction inside her, that connection to the universe that made her get up and fight even when she was dying. But it eludes her, and all she has is her own strength of will. “He is not going to wake up for his father and ISAAC, to whom his death would mean nothing except being free of him. But he will come back for me.”

“Why?” Genis looks more puzzled than shocked and she isn’t sure he even heard her.

“Because we are family. And I promised I will always come for him, because he is worth being saved even if he doesn’t believe it.” Her voice is choked, and her cheeks are wet and she is aware she is begging. “Please, help me. I cannot do it alone.”

It seems like ages before he answers, but eventually, he only says “Fine.” His voice is very quiet—maybe even subdued. “I’ll help. Tell me where the negabands are and I’ll bring them.”

“Thank you.” Phyla wants to take Genis’s hand and stops herself. For whatever reason he changed his mind, it probably is not because he cares for her. Maybe it’s some rest of loyalty to Eros because of the fake memories. He certainly has no reason to do anything for either of them. Not after…

“Genis? I didn’t know. What happened to you on Earth… What I said when you came back… It was a lie. I didn’t know. I only saw when I saw you again. I’m sorry. I should have run so much sooner.” All of which clearly makes no sense at all to him.

“I know you didn’t know I wasn’t dead,” he says. “What does this have anything to do with Eros?”

“Not now. On Titan.” She grits her teeth. “What I said to you on Titan.”

Genis freezes up for a moment, and just watches her with wide eyes. Then, he looks away from her—she half-expects him to just leave then, but he doesn’t. For an agonizingly long moment, he simply stands there in silence. Eventually, he kneels down in front of her and puts his hand on her cheek.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Eros was a much better… whatever he is for you, than I ever was a brother to you. You had no way of knowing if I wouldn’t just mess up again, if you had helped me. You had your own- you know, I only just realized that you had your own problems I ought to have helped you with? So- I guess if you think you were a bad sister, I was in no way better.” He hesitates then, and then gives her half-scared, half-hopeful look. “Let’s just start over?”

It’s hard to follow his rambling, with her brain filled with broken glass. But she gets the gist. “You don’t need to apologize to me. You have every right to be bloody furious at me, at…” she looks at Eros. “At us. That you help me… that’s so much more than I deserve.” She puts her hand over his. She’d embrace him now, but that would undo several of the glued places inside her chest again.

“I think I’m rambling,” Genis says, and puts his other hand on her shoulder. “Look—it’s not about you deserving it or not. If you don’t deserve my forgiveness, then I don’t deserve yours. And that’s not how it works. At least—I want to be your brother and not- I’m sorry, I’m horrible at making sense.”

“No, you aren’t.” Phyla realises she cannot keep arguing, or she will pass out sooner or later. “I understand.” She squeezes his fingers. “I don’t know where the negabands are. Heather hid them. But I can tell you where she might have put them.”

Chapter Text

Fortunately, Moondragon is busy in her lab, so Genis can move around the ship unhindered. Rick is asleep, and Una probably is, too, at least her room is closed. He still keeps looking over his shoulder all the time while entering Moondragon’s bedchamber. If she ever finds out, she’ll probably roast him on a spit.

There's several very interesting things in the hidden compartment of Moondragon's bed. He thinks that there's something true about some ignorance not being all that bad. He carefully arranges everything back as it was before and thinks.

He has found some old letters, a worn magazine about ponies signed by someone, among the more harmless discoveries, but not the negabands. There are a couple of other places that Phyla named, but somehow, he feels that’s not it. He balls his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms.

None of those hiding places are in any way so secure a determined search party would not find them. He remembers one of the movies Rick watched, where somebody hid stuff in the water tank of a toilet, explaining that’s a place people will not want to look.

Unfortunately, there’s no such tank here on a space ship… Lost in thought, Genis wanders into the kitchen. He almost waits for Chewie to show up, but of course the cat is still on Carol’s ship. That brings him to his conversation with Una about catfood and suddenly he realises that he shouldn’t try to think of a place where he does not want to look. When Moondragon left, they were going to the Kree. He needs to find a place where Kree will not look.

And that is sort of obvious. He opens the fridge, but of course Moondragon does not have cat food or Earth food in it. She has not been to Earth for a very long time. Heart sinking, he opens the freezer and then it hits him. There’s a large container of ice-cream in it, with happy cows on the lid. Kree do not eat meat, and almost no species consumes milk once they reach adulthood.

He takes it out, finding it was indeed recently opened, and takes a spoon. He doesn’t really share the Kree sentiment towards this kind of food, but the idea still seems a bit weird and apparently it might not be good for him. At least that was what Melissa said when he asked why Carol would warn him of it.

Well, he probably can go back to Phyla and check if she has any ideas. And if she can be persuaded to get some sleep.

Trust Heather to make things complicated, Phyla thinks with no small amount of exasperation, as she eyes the ice-cream box. She always wondered about this thing in Heather’s freezer, since she never touched it. Why would she bring something she didn’t want? Of course, even if Phyla’s insides didn’t consist mostly of glue and stitches right now, somehow, she doesn’t think that suffering effects of lactose intolerance would in any way help her reach Eros.

They would probably mean that Heather would wrap her up in several blankets and hide her somewhere safe until she was completely recovered. And that is unacceptable. So, she tries to use her tired brain. Ice cream. Ice. Oops.

“Okay, we need to melt it,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Preferably before Heather notices, so I think the kitchen is out.”

“What about Harrison? I mean, Carol’s ship?” Genis asks, but Phyla shakes her head.

“Heather could catch you,” she says and frowns. Absentmindedly, she starts tapping the box with her fingernail, until her gaze falls on the door towards the bathroom. “Oh.”

Genis looks in the same direction and then back to her. His gaze remains puzzled, and for a moment, Phyla wonders just how exactly it was that Elysius had trusted him to fend on his own, and not her.

Except, he did—with a lot of stumbling and so on, but he did.

“We—well, you can put it under the shower,” she says. “Just leave the hot water running.”

“Oh,” Genis says, and it seems like he gets the idea now. “Well, it won’t seem any weirder than cooking it, won’t it? It’s not like any of us was ever going to eat it.”

He gets up then and picks up the container. “Try to get some rest, okay? I can handle that.” 

Genis closes the cabin door and watches the plastic get covered with steam for a moment. Phyla will have to take those out on her own—he isn’t about to try checking if he will end up in the negative zone if touches another pair of negabands. He probably will be able to get out without all that many problems, but it’d be inconvenient.

Of course, inconvenient still beats being homeless in the Microverse. If there’s one thing he misses from the time before he was bonded to Rick, it’s being able to just take off the negabands-

And then his thoughts sort of grind to a stop, as he realizes he probably ought to make sure that Phyla knows how much of a nuisance that can be.

He bites the inside of his cheek—that probably will be the end of their truce, won’t it? He’s the last person who should be lecturing others, but… if he doesn’t tell her, who else will?

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t. For a moment, he feels the urge to just keep quiet—if he’s going to get flak for something, let it least be for something real. Then he shakes his head—he is not going to do that.

He can’t just assume she will take offence. She hadn’t done so, when he asked her if she knew what she’d do if Eros doesn’t wake up.

“It’s thawing,” he says, as he leaves the bathroom. “Um… can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course,” Phyla says, looking rather puzzled.

“Have you thought about how you will get unbonded?” he asks.

She nods. “Like our father and Rick – if we touch the negabands together, one of us ends up in the negative zone and can leave through the next portal. There are several portals that I know of from my time in the Guardians.” She sounds calm, but Genis notices that her hands tremble. He wonders if he ought to comment on it…

“You could take a nap—I’ll wake you up when they’re thawed,” he says eventually. He probably shouldn’t pry. “I can’t put them on anyway, so you don’t have to worry I’ll steal your idea.”

He isn’t sure if he can tell her everything will be fine. It sounds like too big a lie, even in the name of reassuring her.

She still seems to understand what he wants to do and reaches for his hand. “No, I can’t. I don’t think I’ll get another try.”

Genis frowns—just why is that the case? But he doesn’t ask the question—a sound at the door distracts him. There’s an offended hiss at the door, and then Melissa yelps. He turns around just in time to see her jump out of Chewie’s way.

Then, Melissa looks at him, at Phyla and finally at the bathroom door. The running shower is clearly audible.

A rather picturesque look of confusion dawns on her face.

Chapter Text

Melissa looks from Genis to Phyla to the open door and then after Chewie, who runs off, tail fluffed like a toilet brush. Genis and Phyla both look very guilty and apprehensive. Despite having spent years in a mountain ruled by the likes of Osborn with charmingly insane people like Bullseye and Swordsman her imagination fails to supply any idea about what exactly she just interrupted.

She sighs. “So, just how worried should I be?”

The siblings – who do look remarkably alike when they are trying and discarding ideas for evasive answers – finally start explaining. The explanation is quite harmless and Melissa kisses Genis’s cheek. “It’s alright. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

In the end, it’s Melissa who has to fish out the negabands from the melted ice cream and rinse them. Even if it would delay Phyla from going on with her plan, she doesn’t particularly want Genis to end up who knows where. And while they don’t know for sure it will happen, they also don’t know that it won’t.

Besides, she can’t see any harm in letting Phyla try. It will either work and the young woman will hopefully finally stop being a difficult patient, or if won’t and they will be in the same situation.

“There, all done,” she says as she puts the negabands on Phyla-Vell’s lap. Then, she puts her hand on Genis’s arm. He leans down to kiss her cheek.

“You’re not going to tell me not to do this?” Phyla asks, still suspicious.

“No,” Melissa says. “It’s your choice. Unless you want to me to tell you that you shouldn’t do this—then I can tell you so. Or I can help Genis think of reasons why you shouldn’t. But otherwise, I think there’s no harm in trying.”

Besides, she’s seen what happened to the last person who tried to stop Phyla from doing what she had to do… Which she doesn’t voice because it’s unfair. But she does know the young woman’s determination and dedication and it’s really a waste of time and energy to try to dissuade her.

Apparently, Phyla is also not used to not being second-guessed. She watches Melissa for another moment, before locking one bracelet over her right wrist. Despite looking far too big, it doesn’t slide off. In fact, it seems to shrink.

For a moment Phyla frowns. Then, she looks at Genis. “And will you stay? In case… In case it doesn’t work?”

Genis glances at Melissa. Melissa suspects that it’s the perspective of Eros waking up that is worrying him more than any potential cases of power leaking out.

“I’ll stay with you if you want me to,” she tells him.

“Okay,” he replies.

“Let’s do this,” Phyla says.

So Melissa takes Genis’s hand and watches as Phyla slips the other negaband on Eros’s left arm. Nothing happens at first and she looks confused. “Did I do anything wrong?”

Genis frowns. “I don’t know? I just got dragged across the universe and suddenly ended up in one place with Rick… I don’t know what happens when you just put them on.” He does look a bit… disappointed though, apparently he expected something flashier, too.

That’s when Phyla takes Eros’s hand. Suddenly, the bands glow golden for a moment and she flinches. The scar on her face grows dark as the cosmos and her eyes turn featureless white. “The bond needed to be closed,” she says.

The last time Genis had seen Phyla using cosmic awareness, there had barely been any stars visible through her skin. It looked more like an evening sky when viewed from a planet, than the cosmos. This seems to be no longer the case—he can see the stars wink out and into existence when he’s looking at her.

Still, it doesn’t look like anything interesting—in a good or bad way—is about to happen.

And then, as soon as Genis thinks that, Phyla starts slumping. The machines to which Eros is connected beep alarmingly, and with a start, Genis realizes that Phyla isn’t just using cosmic awareness. She’s somehow using energy too, and-

He starts to fumble with the dampener, only to find it completely unresponsive. Of all the moments for the damned thing to break… How exactly is he supposed to do anything with his powers blocked and no way of deactivating the dampener?

Just as he is starting to panic, Melissa looks at his wrist and asks, “How exactly are your powers staying blocked if this isn’t working?”

And just like that, he realizes they aren’t. Or rather—he’s been keeping them completely blocked. Of course, that means that they now activate all at once too—and while absorbing photons from lamps is pretty harmless, having his cosmic awareness-

Having his cosmic awareness tell him that yes, Phyla is having problems keeping her energy level, and yes, Eros also is running low, is actually pretty useful.

He knows Melissa will put her other hand over his cheek a moment before he feels her actual touch.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, her voice now layering over the question in his head.

“I- I’m going to be fine,” he says. “But Phyla is- She and Eros are spending more energy than they have or can absorb.” He takes her hand, the one still on his wrist, and puts the other on Phyla’s shoulder.

“I think I can handle this,” he adds.

That's when Phyla realises what is happening, too. She turns to look at him, her eyes wide.  “H-hey, I thought it went away?” Phyla gasps.

“You're blocking yourself,” Genis says before she can ask her question. “Um... Sorry. I'm not-”

“-doing that consciously,” Phyla finishes.

They look at each other, and then Phyla shakes her head. She closes her eyes, turning her attention to Eros fully. Genis feels the pull, as she absorbs energy from him, but it’s nowhere near enough to tire him out.

This is actually a scary thought—he knows that there was a time, when he’d be unable to stand straight by this point.

Phyla is gripping his hand so hard he can see the muscles on her hand and arm stand out like cords. He feels her fingers shiver. And then, Eros turns his head towards them. The bruises disfiguring his face have faded significantly, and he is actually starting to look familiar as the swelling goes down, too.

Chapter Text

Light. It catches him. A hand takes his, carefully.

*Come with me. I have you.*

The voice is so weak and so distant. “Mother?” No. Not his mother.

*I’ve got you. Come. Let me save you. I’m not letting go anymore.*

A woman’s voice. So sad. So many sad voices. They turn from him. Worth nothing.

This, you did. Tears in the night. Screams in the day. Used. You used us. I am. I did.

Worth nothing. He tries to wriggle out of the hand.

Tears on soft skin. Tears on cold dust. Worth nothing. What is your pain to me?

*I’m not letting go. Come back. I have you.*

The light is getting brighter. The hand holds his, still gentle, but firm.

Too much. It’s too much. Dust. Worth nothing.

Let me go. Let me fall. Fall forever. Always have. Always will. No worth. Monster.

In my image I remade you. All I did, it was you. All you did, it was me. No, it was you, too. The purple man is still there. Brother. We are one.

NO! He screams. “I am not you. You hurt me. You violated me. You tore me apart. You made me something I never was!”

You used us. You destroyed us. What you did can never be undone.

No. He kneels. It can’t. In the dust, he curls up. “Slay me then.”

The light wraps around him, insistent. The woman’s voice is so tired. So worn. So weak. And yet strong.

*I am not letting go. I have you and I’m not letting go. I love you. I’ll always come for you.*

She can’t hear him, his protests. Or can she?

*We’re family. I won’t abandon you. I will keep you safe. I love you. I will stay with you. *

Strength. What strength has he ever had? He was water, splashing under the weight of his sins. But she scoops him up and holds him.

*We are family. I love you.*

He cannot fight her. Her love is like a balm soothing his wounds. Stripping his shackles from him, giving him substance where he had none. She holds him in her arms like a child, a figure of light flying out of the darkness. He clings to her and cries.

*Hold onto me.*

No, not mother. Phyla. Her grip is strong and gentle, though her hand trembles slightly with weakness. She is glowing like the sun. She smiles at him, as weak as if she has given birth.

“Eros. Welcome back.”

The emptiness fades away, replaced by warmth. He can’t smile back. His face does not belong to him yet. But he can squeeze her hand.

+I love you, too.+ 

Phyla realizes the mistake only when Eros is awake. She read about it, but she underestimated how weak she is and how little energy she actually can absorb without it being noticeable. Now, she feels Eros reach out for more energy, and instinctively draw it from the nearest, easiest source—herself.

But she’s nearly out herself and almost starts to panic, as an abyss opens in her head. Then, she feels Genis’s hand on her shoulder, as he sends more energy to her and to Eros. It feels like being engulfed by a roiling ocean, except made of starlight.

 “Thank you.” She manages a smile. “I know I could have waited, but leaving Eros like this was not an option.”

The Eternal manages a minute shake of his head, and Phyla turns to him. “No, you don’t get to protest,” she says gently, but sternly.

“Why would he?” Genis looks rather confused, his gaze wandering between her and Eros.

“Because he has this idea that all that is happening to him is what he deserves.” Phyla isn’t really sure yet how to use their bond to communicate, so she follows instinct and rests her head against Eros’s shoulder. “I told you I do not care.”

Genis watches her, before offering: “That doesn’t look like a comfortable position, should I get you a pillow?”

She’s too tired to wonder if he is avoiding the subject of Eros deserving to suffer, or just worried about her, so she simply gives him a grateful look.

“Please.”

So he gets the pillow from her bed and carefully uses it to prop her up in the chair, before taking the blanket and wrapping it around her legs. “Here you go. Better now?”

“Yes.”

That’s when she finally catches a sharp jolt of awareness from Eros, followed by an intense mix of confusion, fear and guilt.

Chapter Text

His head is pounding, as if a whole planet started a party inside of it. Sadly enough, this is preferable to the eerie numbness of several other parts of Eros’s body. Phyla is there, and he can’t help but worry about her since she isn’t looking much better than he feels. She’s in pain, and so exhausted it makes him feel tired, too, yet her elation is palpable.

This is strange. He is feeling her so much clearer than he should, given both their states…

And she’s arguing with him. Simply ignoring his self-loathing. It would be so nice to believe her… Just for now, just so he can sleep and for once feel safe from the darkness in his head.

That’s when someone is offering Phyla a pillow and he notices they are not alone. There’s a pretty human girl, who is watching him as if she’s daring him to misbehave. And next to Phyla, there is Genis.

Eros’s first thought when he realizes who it is, is to wonder if maybe he is dead after all. Or perhaps this is another nightmare—or worse.

“It’s okay,” Phyla says softly.

As if.

“It’s not exactly okay, but close enough?” Genis adds.

Which sounds like Genis, but it’s not enough to dispel the feeling of unreality. Instead, he remembers that he only had Mentor’s second-hand account that Phyla is alive again, too. +Is this hell?+ It doesn’t feel like it, but what does he know?

“You might want to rethink that question,” the young woman with pink hair says. “I’ve been to hell, and you just implied you’re facing your worst inner demons right now.”

That sounds about right, Eros thinks. Then he feels Phyla’s trembling, cold fingers very carefully touch his shoulder and stroke him like a child. He blinks away tears, trying to find a way to tell her that he was just being stupid. Genis interrupts him, though.

“I think I’d rather be tormenting Rick,” he says. “At least then I wouldn’t end up looking like the stupidest demon in the… the… what do demons come in anyway?”

“Hell is divided in circles, I believe?”, the young woman says and wraps her arms around Genis.

“Is there one for people who talk too much?” Genis muses.

Eros is starting to lose any doubts he had that this is Genis.

“Genis,” Phyla hisses. “That’s tactless.”

“But Rick does talk too much,” Genis answers, giving her a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I had him in my head, I’d know. It was never-ending commentary on everything. Oh, and complaining. How can I ever forget the complaining?”

+He certainly has a lot to say+, Eros agrees, still watching Genis intensely. This is him, alright, and given that he is still hurting everywhere, they probably aren’t dead. It is an awkward moment. Last he had heard, Mar-Vell’s son had died on earth. Obviously, those rumours were wrong. It doesn’t surprise him all that much. People as powerful as Genis seldom stay dead. And yet, when he looks at him now, he doesn’t see the angry god who came to Titan, he sees the broken boy crying in the dust. +And while I do talk too much, when I get nervous, I’m afraid that would be too nice a place for me.+

Phyla closes her eyes for a moment and opens them again, full of awful knowledge. “Then I belong there, too.”

+No, you don’t,+ Eros replies gently. +Whatever you did, it couldn’t have been as bad as what I did.+

Genis looks like a lost puppy right now. His friend is another case altogether.

“Can you all discuss that when you are not five quarters dead?” The pink-haired girl may be young, but she speaks with authority. There’s also a lot of compassion in her bright blue eyes. For a moment, Eros thinks he sees pink angel wings behind her, except that’s just proof that she is probably right. “Maybe let’s just state that nobody here is dead and if you want to have a serious heart-to-heart, let’s put it off until everyone is rested and healthy?”

“That sounds like what we should do,” Genis agrees. He seems to be mostly relieved, and so is Eros. He isn’t sure he can handle this conversation right now. He isn’t even sure what he wants to say.

Phyla wobbles slightly then, and Genis has to catch her. Eros watches them, as the young man picks his sister up despite her weak protests.

“Look, once you’re not falling asleep on me, then you can walk around,” Genis says.

“Provided you won’t lose any body parts,” the young woman with pink hair adds.

Phyla shakes her head. “I’m not falling asleep.” Then after a moment, she adds ruefully, “But I might be too tired to sit. Can you help me back to my bed?”

“Sure,” Genis says, and carries her over. He puts her back in bed and props her up on pillows, while Eros and the young woman keep watching each other.

He has definitely seen her before. Where could it have been? Certainly, she’s not anyone Genis has brought to Titan, since he had never brought any friends to Titan at any point.

“Er... I think I ought to introduce you? That's Eros.” Genis says, once he’s done tucking Phyla in.

Eros would have smiled, if his face didn’t feel like a theatre mask.

The young woman gives him another look over, before saying, “I'm Melissa Gold. Or Songbird. But we’ve met.”

He thinks he can remember where.

+I remember,+ Eros sends. He doesn’t dare speaking yet, because his words will probably come out slurred and indistinct. 

“I wasn’t sure you would,” Melissa says. “It was just for a moment.” She puts a hand on Genis’s shoulder, and adds for his benefit, “Someone had to tell your family what happened to you.”

Genis nods. “Zemo came with you, didn’t he? And didn’t want Dr Chen Lu with you.” Then, without waiting for the confirmation, he turns blue momentarily and adds, “That was easier than I expected.”

Again, Eros isn’t sure what exactly he meant—just that Genis does seem to be genuinely relived about something.

The young woman looks from one to the other and smiles crookedly. “I was right. It really is best if you practice introducing your boyfriend or girlfriend as a teenager. Later, it only feels weird.”

Eros would have laughed at the thought of being a parent and the awkwardness of the situation in general, if he dared. 

Genis gives Melissa a somewhat puzzled look—he doesn't think how he feels would be all that different if he actually had been a teenager at any point. He wouldn't have had introduced any girlfriends to his family anyway, because they'd either know them already, since they'd be from Titan, or there'd be at least one person who'd disapprove.

Which doesn't actually disprove Melissa's point, come to think of it. “I wouldn't know?”

“I guess this is this a cliché—you’re supposed to bring your boyfriend or girlfriend if you’re serious, and then your parents either tell them silly stories about your mishaps in the kindergarten or they glower at them disapprovingly,” Melissa explains.

“Why would anyone want to introduce their partner then?” Genis asks. It sounds pretty nightmarish for both parties.

“It’s just a cliché,” Melissa says. “Not all parents do that—some actually trust their children."

+It depends on the parents,+ Eros comments, and Genis can only give him a puzzled look. +If you feel confident about introducing your friends. Sometimes it is better not to bother.+

Phyla – who has listened with changing expressions of amusement and horror – nods. "Definitely better not to bother. It's your life, and your partner and they have no say in that."

Genis digests this in silence. He had not been worried about introducing Melissa to Mar-Vell, but he had been apprehensive of Eros. Is that what Eros meant? Even if the memories aren't real, they're still there, still telling him that this is his father.

“I... can't really imagine anyone introducing their girlfriend to Mentor,” he says eventually. And he is not even going to imagine introducing Melissa to Elysius.

+That makes two of us,+ Eros replies.

“He disapproved of Phyla and Heather, didn’t he?” Genis guesses.

"I still have the speech memorised", Phyla says with an abortive snort that drives tears of pain into her eyes. "About how Heather is wasting her time and her training and keeping me away from mine."

Genis can imagine that easily enough—Mentor’s voice talking about distractions and how carnal pleasures are nothing but an illusion. Which is kind of weird, given that he managed to have two children the traditional way. “Did he have sex only twice in his life?”

Phyla gives another abortive laugh.

+You might have to ask him that yourself,+ Eros answers very carefully. +I don’t think I want to know.+

“Oops,” Genis says, feeling his cheeks turn glowing hot. “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

+Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that,+ Eros replies. +I just don’t want to know why they needed a second time to decide it’s not worth the bother.+

Genis, not being drugged up his eyeballs, does not ask Eros why Elysius decided to try again, while Phyla shakes her head in exasperation, but says nothing. Given that they are both clearly exhausted Genis, suggests: “I think I should let you rest?”

Eros flinches, and tries to sit up – except something seems to impede him and he gasps. He doesn’t say anything though and lies back down very carefully. Phyla smiles reassuringly and turns to Genis. "I guess we should Heather now?"

She's right, but Genis doesn't relish the prospect of facing her alone. So, he turns to Melissa. “Let’s go? She'll probably need to check on them.”

“Sure,” she says and takes his hand.

Chapter Text

“That really wasn’t so bad,” Melissa says, once they’re out of the medbay.

“No, it was mostly okay,” Genis says. He runs his hand over his face. “I still don’t know about Eros—it’s… he’s an Eternal. He can control his body to a cell. If he agreed to pretend to be my father, it meant that other Eternals would have to believe that he wanted a child with my mother.”

Well. There went not so bad, Melissa thinks.

“And you think he got second thoughts when the child turned out to be you?” Melissa asks.

“I thought so,” Genis says, chewing his lip. “He didn’t really have all that much to do with me, back when I thought he was my father. He was nice, though—he had no clue what to do with me, but he only started getting unpleasant after- Heather told me about it. Apparently, Thanos screwed with his powers and with his brain in general. Then made him forget. I think that’s when he decided I was a disappointment.”

“And I guess now he feels guilty, given the Hell comment,” Melissa guesses. Then, she puts her hand on Genis’s arm. “You know, looking back, I think at least my father was an obvious straight-forward mess.”

Genis pulls her closer then. “I guess I should just ask Eros. I probably should have done it long ago.”

“It’s not your fault your mother was hung up over a dead man,” Melissa says.

Genis manages a wry smile. “They all were. Eros too.” He sighs. “Do you think he wouldn’t live up to being a parent to a child of a legend?”

“Wait. I just realized—your mother wanted him to raise the child she had with another guy,” Melissa says. "That's..."

Genis pretty much stops dead in his tracks and groans. “Well, that… was not a great idea."

"No, probably not. Even at least he would have known about it from the start?" She frowns. "I remember there was guy in the trailer park where my parents lived, who found out that his girlfriend had done that – when the kid was about five. He beat her up and left and never came back."

Genis swallows, because his cosmic awareness feels the need to show him Melissa's memory, of her hiding behind a bush listening to the yelling and sounds of violence from the other house. The word betrayal figures very prominently in what can be understood of the argument. "Now I wonder why he ever agreed.”

“I think you answered that question already.” Melissa replies. “I would assume he felt something for her. But ask him. Tell him how you feel, let him explain and see where you stand.”

He puts his arm around her shoulders and nods. "I will." 

Heather knows something happened, the moment Genis and Melissa enter her personal lab and not just because under normal circumstances, Genis wouldn’t set foot there.

“Just what did go wrong now?” she asks.

Let it not be Phyla. Everything but that.

“Nothing?” Genis replies and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “Phyla woke up and was worried that Eros won’t wake up ever. She wanted to use the negabands-“

“Please tell me you talked her out of this,” Heather says, starting to feel rather sick. “You out of all people ought to know why this might be a bad idea.”

“I told her why it can be a bad idea, yes,” Genis says, starting to sound rather annoyed. “She decided that she was still going to risk it. So, I helped her. And don’t yell-“

“I’m not supposed to yell at you?” Heather snaps. “Why exactly shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s already done,” the little redhead says firmly, as she glares at Heather.

Genis adds, “And you wouldn’t be that upset if it were me or my father, or Carol—you only care because it’s Phyla. You were fine with Rick being a jerk to me, so don’t try denying.”

Heather nearly takes the bait—no. It’s not bait. She shouldn’t treat Genis’s grievances as a challenge. He has reasons to be upset with her.

“I…” she starts but Genis shakes his head.

“And anyway, that way she wasn’t wandering and looking for the negabands-“ he says.

“Do I want to know how you found them?” Heather groans.

Genis shrugs. “Look, in any case, I was there so she and Eros didn’t run out of energy in the process. And now she will stay in bed and heal, because she’ll also be risking Eros if she does something stupid.”

Heather blinks. “You… You learned how to be an adult.”

“Please, stop trying to give me compliments,” Genis grumbles. “Can we just go to the medbay, so you can check on them? I think Eros probably needs to be unhooked from all those wires, too.” 

Moondragon enters the medbay first, followed by Genis and Melissa. For a moment, she just stands there with an expression that is very unlike her, and then she shakes her head.

“Hah,” Phyla says and grins at her, which means they're probably communicating telepathically.

Moondragon shakes her head again, and approaches Eros briskly. She inspects the screens, then looks at him for several seconds before she takes away the oxygen from under his nose and pulls down the blanket to remove the electrodes from his chest. Eros watches her with apprehension.

“It’s late,” she says. “You should rest.”

+I’ve been doing that for- how long was it?+ Eros asks.

“A few days,” Heather says.

Eros closes his eyes for a moment and sighs.

“Don’t you even mention inconveniencing anyone,” Phyla says. “You didn’t plan this. It’s not your fault.”

“I think Melissa’s comment about not being mostly dead still stands,” Genis adds, as Heather continues with her inspection and gets to changing the dressings on Eros's right hand.

“Thank you,” Moondragon says, and looks up from her work. “This will take a while and I think Eros might prefer if you leave for the rest.”

At this point Eros looks down his body, to the blanket that now loosely rests on his lap. Clearly, Heather had not deemed it necessary to let him stay dressed while unconscious.

“We will go,” Genis says.

“It’s alright.” He never shared the human apprehension about being undressed. “I don’t care.” He doesn’t look at Heather, though, who is also pretending to be very busy with the dressing on his hand. Maybe there is one person who he isn’t casual about. The one person who saw more of him than anyone else ever did. Except she doesn’t even seem to notice.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Songbird sneak out. Genis does not appear to realize until the door closes. He glances at the empty spot next himself for a few moments, before waving awkwardly and following his friend out.

And that leaves Eros to Heather’s tender loving care. He had never bothered pretending that he is above squirming, whimpering and complaining when faced with such things as dressing wounds and changing bandages. He doesn't have exactly enough energy to do much in this respect as Moondragon changes the dressings on his hand and inspects the setting of the bones. He still can’t look at it and it continues to feel like a blob of pain – the moment Heather touches it the numbness is gone. As creepy as it was, it might have been preferable. No reason to tell that to Heather, though.

“Whatever did I do to you?” he asks, and winces when she starts wrapping the bandages around his hand again.

Heather sighs heavily and looks up at the ceiling expressively. He can practically hear her asking the gods of Titan for patience. “If you can whine again, you really must be better.” She shakes her head, before continuing: “Do you want me to tell you the merits of letting you regenerate your whole hand?”

It looks like a change of subject is called for, especially given that Phyla is starting to look militant again.

“You could tell me why you couldn't leave at least my pants on,” he says and winces again. It really does hurt, even though she is trying to be gentle.

It has about as much effect as quarrelling with Moondragon usually has, which is none at all. She gives him a long measuring look and starts telling him exactly why she couldn't. Which he should have expected, really.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Phyla has an expression that is all exasperation. He isn't exactly sure why it makes him think of Mar-Vell—no, that's not true. He remembers catching him making a face like that once or twice. Moondragon notices that as well, and almost seamlessly goes from listing uncomfortable medical procedures to saying, “Phyla, you should sleep now.”

“I'm fine,” she protests. “I don't need to rest.”

“You do,” Heather says, “You should have been resting much longer. You can't rely on others giving you energy transfusions forever.”

Phyla blushes but settles down. That seems to mollify Heather somewhat, and she fluffs Eros’s pillow, helping him settle more comfortably now all the invasive medical bits are gone from his body. “I don’t have any clothes for you at the moment, but maybe Genis and his little redhead went to get you something to wear.”

Given how dismissive this sounds – quite contrary to the impression Eros managed to form of the young woman so far – he might remind Heather not to say anything like that when Genis or anyone else is around. If he felt charitable.

“And you are capable of speech, so stop cheating with telepathy just because it will hurt”, Heather chides him at this moment.

No, he doesn’t feel charitable at all.

Chapter Text

Melissa might have seen her share of naked men, but there is a difference between someone undressing to show off or claim a trophy and the vulnerability inherent in being naked without one’s knowledge or choosing. So, she decides to leave and do something useful – inform the others of the new developments and get something for Eros to wear.

Genis catches up with her a moment after she has left, and they disembark from Heather’s ship. The windows on Carol’s ship are dark—it seems that neither Carol nor Mar-Vell have realized something was going on.

“What will they think?” Genis asks.

Melissa shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess the situation got slightly more complicated.”

Genis doesn’t seem to find this encouraging. “Situations seem to do that.”

Despite herself, Melissa starts giggling. “I guess so.”

Inside Carol’s ship, Chewie joins them and nearly trips Genis, until he picks her up. He hesitates in front of the door. “What if we interrupt something?” He says, and blushes so very crimson that Melissa doesn’t need any imagination at all to figure what he means.

“You could knock?”, she says, when Genis points out a red button beside the door with a bell on it. “Should have noticed that the last time”, he murmurs. 

He pushes it, a buzzing sound can be heard, and after a moment, a very sleepy looking Carol opens the door. Mar-Vell is standing behind her. Contrary to Genis’s apprehensions, they are wearing night clothes.

“Did something happen?” Carol asks.

This is another thing that being a super villain does not prepare you for, Melissa thinks. Is there actually a way of saying that Eros is fine without making them think that Genis's sister did something stupid? Aside from the fact that she did, but it probably shouldn't be the first thing Mar-Vell hears.

Do not start with don't panic, she tells herself.

“Phyla found a way to reach Eros and persuade him to wake up,” she says. Both of them look at her in puzzlement.

“Just how did she do that, when Moondragon could not reach him telepathically?”, Carol asks, frowning. Beside her, Mar-Vell is one step ahead already. “The negabands. She didn’t…” His eyes almost pop out of his head.

“Phyla and Eros are now bonded,” Genis elaborates, looking very uncomfortable. “With the negabands. But Phyla said it’s only until Eros is feeling well again and that unbonding won’t be a problem.”

Mar-Vell looks rather sceptical at the last pronouncement. “It shouldn’t be, if they have a portal to the Negative Zone, and nothing goes wrong.”

“How does Eros feel about it, anyway?” Carol asks. “She couldn’t ask him, if he agrees.”

“I don’t think he noticed,” Genis says.

“Are they alright?” Mar-Vell still sounds anxious, so Melissa quickly assures him that everybody is fine.

“I'll go-” Mar-Vell starts to say, but Carol holds out her hand.

“Did anyone tell Eros about Mar-Vell being back?” she asks.

Melissa shakes her head.

Mar-Vell sighs. “You're right. I'd probably end up scaring him pointlessly.” Then he obviously activates his cosmic awareness and sighs. “Everything looks fine so far, and I guess Phyla will at least rest easier now.”

Carol puts an arm around Mar-Vell’s shoulders. “That just means we won’t have to make a longer stop on Titan. Moondragon can drop Eros off there on her own.”

“He’s going to need clothes though,” Genis points out. “I’d offer one of my pyjamas, but it seems something happened to it.” Despite the situation, Carol hides a grin.

“He can use mine”, Mar-Vell says. He still looks like he wants to storm off, but he just holds Carol’s hand so tight that the knuckles stand out white against his skin. “We are about the same size.”

“We’ll bring them to him,” Melissa says. She’s about to say that any serious conversations can wait until tomorrow, when Genis decides that apparently, they can’t.

“Can we talk?” he asks Mar-Vell. “Um. Doesn’t have to be right now, but-“

“It’s okay, I’ll bring those on my own,” Melissa says.

“I’ll go with you,” Carol adds. “Just let me grab a jacket.” 

Genis doesn’t really know yet where to start, so he follows his father to the kitchen in silence. It’s all happening too quickly. He knows it will sound petulant if he ever says it out loud, especially since he was the one who decided to help Phyla, but he’d rather have some more time of having things sorted out with his sister until he has to face Eros, too.

And then there is what he picked up from Eros when Phyla woke him up – the sensation that he was resisting and would have preferred to die… Which is achingly familiar.

“I think… Eros needs help too,” he says after a moment. “I mean-“ He hesitates, trying to sort things into something approaching a coherent sequence of information. “Did Heather tell you that Thanos messed with his head?”

Given that Mar-Vell looks like someone had hit him, Genis guesses it’s a “No”.

“She didn’t,” Mar-Vell says. “Does Phyla know?”

“She was there when they found out, according to Heather,” Genis replies. “They were putting him on Trial on Titan for abusing his powers, and Thanos tried to have him blamed for all of his crimes, too.” Trying to follow Heather’s explanation, it’s not that hard to coherently inform his father, who starts looking paler by the minute, while occasionally using his cosmic awareness.

“Pama!” he curses.

“Yeah, that,” Genis says. “I think I noticed when it happened—I mean, I- I remember when he started acting differently. But I just thought it was because I was a disappointment and- I think I’m getting circular now. I’m blaming myself for blaming myself.”

“Just because you can say now when it likely happened doesn’t mean that you are to blame for anything,” Mar-Vell says. “A lot of things seem obvious once you have all the facts—but at that time, you didn’t.”

That is what Melissa said, too. And even Rick had some saying or other for that, about hindsight. He’ll probably still take a while to get his feelings under control, but at least his brain is convinced now.

“Will you talk to him?”

“I suppose I can’t make this into a bigger mess than it already is,” Mar-Vell replies. “What about you?”

Genis looks down on his hands. “There are things I want to ask him. Why would he even agree to play my father? That implies other people would believe he wanted children with my mother…”  

“They would,” Mar-Vell says. “I… thought it was quite likely they would get closer after I died.”

“Oh,” Genis says. Well, that explains the comment about his mother preferring Captain Marvel, then… “But why would he agree?”

“I can guess,” Mar-Vell replies. “But that will only be guessing. Maybe it is better if you ask Eros about this—he is the only person who actually knows.”

“Why does everything have to be such a mess?” Genis feels angry tears rise into his eyes. “Apparently, just me existing hurts people.”

Mar-Vell puts his hands on his shoulders then. “Genis—listen to me. If this is the case—if Eros really does feel hurt because you exist—that’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this. You didn’t ask to be my son. You didn’t ask him to pretend to be your father.”

Genis nods. That… sort of actually makes him feel better. He hugs his father tightly, but he can feel that the desperation is fading. He finally stopped being afraid Mar-Vell will just disappear. And now he can begin to appreciate that he is not the only person carrying around old scars.

“I love you.”

It seems that Melissa, Carol and the pyjamas arrive just in time, since when they enter, Eros is dozing off already. Phyla turns a bright shade of red as soon as she sees Carol and dives under her blanket. Eros wakes up a moment later and sits up with almost exaggerated care.

His face is swollen and bruised, and his expression seems to be frozen.

“We brought you something to sleep in,” she says.

+Thank you,+ Eros replies. +Have we met? You seem familiar, I’d remember a woman as stunning as you.+

Carol mostly notes that the attempt seems somewhat forced—like someone trying to pretend they’re alright very desperately. Phyla on the other hand makes a sound that is something between a mortified squeak and a groan.

That seems to distract Eros, who glances towards Phyla’s bed and then just stares at the blanket for a while.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” Melissa asks, after a few seconds.

+I want to say no, but that would probably end up with me passing out, so yes, please.+ He holds out his good hand, so she can help him into the first sleeve.

Carol hands her the shirt, and steps back, letting the young woman handle it. She peers at Phyla’s bed and asks, “Aren’t you hot?”

“’m fine,” comes the muffled answer.