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.

Eros has meanwhile managed to get one hand into a sleeve, and after Melissa pulled the shirt over his shoulder and back, they both work at getting the thickly wrapped hand through the other. The Titan is wincing but makes no sound.

Once they’re done buttoning the shirt up, it takes a bit of fiddling to fit his dangling legs into the pants. Melissa doesn’t blush, despite the awkwardness of the situation. Then he puts his injured arm around her shoulders, so she can help bear his weight as he gets up to pull up the trousers. This involves the blanket dropping from his lap, but the young woman doesn’t seem tempted to look.

Carol returns to the task of luring Phyla out. She can guess pretty well why she’s hiding. Which means that she is sort of blanking on how to deal with the situation.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” she says eventually.

Phyla does peer out of the blanket then, still blushing. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“It’s fine,” Carol says. She and Phyla watch each other for a moment, both of them looking for something to say.

“That’s a nice animal on your shirt,” Phyla eventually says. She’s still quite crimson.

“Thank you,” Eros says when he settles back in bed. His voice is slow and halting, and quite indistinct.

“It’s alright.” The young woman pulls up his blanket. “Do you need anything else? A glass of water?”

“No, thank you,” Eros says. “We’re good. Heather took care of that already.”

“We’re fine,” Phyla adds. “Really, don’t worry.”

“Aw, and here I thought that you’d ask for a bedtime story,” Melissa teases.

Phyla blinks, the blush finally fading from her cheeks. “Nobody ever told me any.”

“You should ask Eros when he feels better,” Carol says without thinking. “Janet always said he had a lot of entertaining ones to tell. She particularly liked the one about the English court. The firework where everything went wrong except for the music.”

“Music at a firework?”, Melissa asks.

“It was…” Eros tries to clear his throat, which drives tears into his eyes, while Phyla flinches, gritting her teeth.

“This really can wait until you are better.” Phyla leans forward, as if to get up, but hesitates.

“Yes,” Melissa adds. “You need to rest now. We’ll leave you alone.”

Chapter Text

After searching Titan’s libraries and ISAACs memory banks, the result is obvious: Eros does not wake because he does not want to. Because he wants to deny this life and fade into the darkness. And his father failed to see this. Had failed to see the darkness growing. He goes to the com room to call Heather, but he cannot bring himself to do so; to admit how fallible they are. 

They had been shadows, waiting for the darkness to swallow them in a bitter tide. They quivered and hid like fearful children, or broke like glass; they ran until all that was left was air and dust. So he had done—he had hidden from the truth, until the darkness could not be denied. 

Then, when all hope had been lost, the sun came—it burned bright and warm, but only for a short while. They watched—helpless--as it faded and sputtered, until only ash remained. 

And so they had become ash, and soot, clinging to the memories of the light, and trying to fan the embers into a bonfire. 

Eventually, they sought to make their own sun, in the likeness of the one that died. They nursed it, and fed it all their hopes, all their tales, but it never started to burn. It remained dark and cold. 

But they did not give up and made another, but they had given all the hopes and tales to the first sun-child that had never burned. There was nothing for the second one to thrive on, save for shadows, ghosts and ash. 

Was it a wonder then that it failed to ignite as well? At least for them—for the moon had come, and in her cool light, the second sun found her flames. 

Not for them, though. Never for them, anymore. Their sun burned out and died, and they did not deserve another, for the darkness was of their own making. And now it would swallow them all. 

They would wither. 

They would become twisted. 

They would become mirrors of the dark. 

They would be broken, and crumble like figures of ice. 

And he could no longer escape the truth—he was the father of shadows. The blind man, who had not noticed the monster at his hearth; who had failed to see his sons for what they were. 

And now the sun was burning again, but it was too late for them to be anything but dust. The light would be for others this time. 

There would be no second chance—nothing to return to. Only ghosts—the living and the dead.

 “Eros is awake.” A voice broke through his thoughts—a familiar one. 

Is he dreaming? Moondragon has to repeat them twice more until he manages to pay attention to her. 

“See for yourself.” 

And then the picture on the transmission changes and shows the medbay of Heather’s ship. Eros is sitting in a bed. His face is pale and bruised, and his right hand is thickly bandaged. He has lost a lot of weight and looks almost ephemeral, exhaustion in every line of his face. A slim young woman with astonishing white and pink hair is helping him into a shirt. 

Mentor manages to ask “How?” 

That’s also when he notices that Eros isn’t the only patient in the medbay. In the bed beside him there is young Phyla, her hair shaved off, bandaged and beaten up herself, but smiling at Eros. 

“Phyla brought him back”, Heather says with a wry twist of her mouth. “She got the story of how the negabands work out of Rick Jones and bonded them together. And then she somehow managed to convince him to come back.” That’s when he figures out that Heather realised the same thing he did. 

He wants to ask “How?” again, but she cannot know. So, he asks something else, because somehow, he knows the answer already. 

“Will you still be coming to Titan?” 

Of course Eros does not take a hint and go to sleep. Instead, he starts telling Phyla about the Court of George II – telepathically, because him speaking seems to hurt her even more than him. Halfway through the story, when it starts to rain, he notices Phyla has fallen asleep with a smile on her face. That sort of repays him for the effort of staying awake. Perhaps he should finally sleep, too, but he simply cannot force himself to do it. There are horrors lurking in the dark, and he is not yet brave enough to face them. 

The door hisses open, and admits Heather. 

“Why are you not asleep?” Heather asks, as soon as she enters the medbay. 

Eros looks away. He doesn’t feel like he can stand up to her interrogation. 

“Nevermind,” Heather sighs. “Look, you’ve three minutes to fall asleep on your own, and if you don’t I’m giving you something.” 

+Can you just skip the part where you roll your eyes and complain, and give me something?+ Eros asks. 

The answer is that, obviously, rolling one’s eyes cannot be skipped. 

“You can’t just waste your energy like this now,” Heather chides him. Eros finds her tone curious. “You should be more mindful of the consequences of your actions.” 

+Heather… I am not on death’s door,+ Eros sends. +Please stop treating me like that.+ 

Instead of answering, she grabs his good hand and holds it up in front of his eyes. He blinks, and blinks again. There’s something off. And it’s not Heather manhandling him. “Look. Look closer.” 

That’s when he realises there is a broad golden armband around his wrist. It seems familiar and he did not wear it before. 

“And now look here.” She pulls back the blanket from Phyla telekinetically, revealing an identical band on her right wrist. 

That’s when it clicks and Eros’s thoughts decide to shut up at this moment, since he’s too shocked to even curse. 

Heather can feel Eros’s shock at this discovery, but she’s still surprised when he starts to cry. It seems like she will have to find her bedside manner—not exactly something she’s any good at. She pulls up a chair sits down next to Eros and takes his hand. 

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “She knows what she is doing.” Yes, Phyla does. It might not be what Heather would do in her place and that’s sometimes hard to accept. Yet, it is something she’ll have to live with, the poisonous burn of jealousy notwithstanding. She squashes it with her willpower. ‘Phyla became the Avatar of Death for you. So really, don’t whine.’ 

+That’s not- don’t you understand why she’d do it?+ Eros replies. +Why she would give me this? When she should stay far away from me?+ 

“Yes, I do,” Heather says firmly. “Because she loves you. Because she doesn’t want you to suffer. And neither do I.” She pauses for a moment, taking the time to gather her thoughts. “And I am sorry. I should have realized that you need more than just help with your powers after what Thanos did to you.” 

Eros gives her a surprised look, and then manages something of a mental snort of amusement. +Who are you and what have you done with Moondragon?+ 

“I ate her, bones and all,” Heather replies and gives him a rueful smile. “And now, sleep. You will need the strength tomorrow.” 

As she speaks, she sends a suggestion to his mind. A gentle nudge that makes Eros’s eyelids drop and doze off. Once his breathing is even, Heather moves to tuck Phyla in again. 

Chapter Text

Once she straightened everything out, Heather doesn’t have anything else to do, but watch Phyla and Eros. They’re both peaceful in their sleep.

It’s hard watching either of them like this. Eros she has known since childhood, and Phyla is… Is so many different things for her. She can’t bear the thought of losing her again.

Why did she think that? Is she that jealous? It’s silly; she knows there is no threat here, Phyla’s relationship to Eros is familial and platonic. And yet she can’t deny the stab of something she felt at seeing the golden bracelets on their wrists. First Phyla defied her on Equivox, and now she discarded her judgement again to follow her own ideas. It shouldn’t rankle so much. Yet it does.

Because you have been as much mother figure to her as you have been her lover, she admits. And now that part of your relationship is fading and you must accept that. With a shrug, she adjusts Phyla’s pillow and blanket and gently kisses her on the cheek. ‘Really, Captain Marvel… Do you have to live up to the name so hard? Saving lives, destroying giant war machines, defying an Empire, killing the High Pursuer… How will I deal with you growing up?’

She strokes her lover’s cheek. She can’t tell if this course of action is the best they could take. Surely, there is someone else who could carry that particular burden—Phyla has her own issues without the additional burden of Eros’s.

And yet, she can’t really claim that Genis had not made good points. Given what Mentor sent her, and her own conclusions, she is not sure anyone else could have done what Phyla did. That anyone else would have been listened to. Besides, it would only be temporary.

When she realises both are smiling in their sleep, she gently brushes their surface thoughts.

She steps into a park by a river, full of people in colourful clothing and wearing powdered wigs. There is a festive atmosphere and she sees a towering stage constructed by the river, and numerous strange and esoteric towers and ornaments. Their purpose eludes her.

It is dark, and she sees barges floating down the river. Then there is a signal and the weird constructions burst into flame as the music starts. There’s an orchestra on the stage and it plays what seems weirdly familiar.

Then, one of the revellers turns to speak to her. “Go away. This is not your dream.”

Heather blushes.

“Definitely not your dream.”

That is She-Hulk, wearing a purple dress with wide skirts and holding a lorgnette to her eyes.

Of course, they are right and she is snooping. For a moment, she is tempted to use her powers to hide from these feeble defences, but that is childish. She has no right to be here. Except, she has to see. So, she lingers, melting into the background, adjusting her shape to look like another party goer.

After a moment, the people part and she sees a couple walk down the centre towards the stage. The man is tall with a long wig, and incredibly rich clothing, and the woman is stunning, a classical beauty eschewing the wig and wearing her own blue black hair as a towering construction with flowers and birds.

Behind them, other couples follow, marginally less richly dressed. It takes her quite a while to find Eros and Phyla who are walking fifth or sixth position, both dressed like nobles and wearing wigs. Phyla’s eyes are wide as a child’s as she looks around. They are talking but she cannot hear them. Eros points out the conductor of the orchestra and Phyla frowns, then smiles. For a moment, her eyes seem to linger on Heather, who involuntarily blushes.

She does understand that she is intruding on something that is not meant to be seen. Something very private. She extricates herself and invisibly flees the dreamscape back into her own body.

‘Sleep well, you two. Rest. The world will find you soon enough.’ 

Mar-Vell waits for Carol sitting on their bed. He still looks distraught. “How is Phyla?” He runs his hand over his face, as if trying to rub off some of the worry. “I didn’t expect her to do this.”

Carol sits down next to him and leans against his side. “She was asleep. And neither did I.”

“It makes sense that this would work,” Mar-Vell elaborates. “Just… how would Phyla even know? She never was bonded to anyone.”

“I would assume someone told her how it works,” Carol replies. “Did you ever tell Eros, or Mentor or Elysius? Or maybe she asked Rick at some point.”

“I left a diary on Titan…” He frowns. “It didn’t go into detail, though. Eros knew both of us when Rick and I were merged, he and Mentor both saw us change and everything. I think Mentor also could hear Rick or me talk while the other was present.” With shrug he adds: “Although that wouldn’t tell her she could get through to the other person under pretty much every circumstance. Only Rick would know that.”

“Wouldn’t Genis know it too?” Carol points out.

“Would he tell Phyla?” Mar-Vell asks. “No, it definitely had to be Rick.”

“Does that change anything?” Carol asks.

“I don’t know,” Mar-Vell replies. He puts his arms over her shoulders. “However she found out, it was Phyla who made the choice.” He leans back slightly and then turns around to kiss Carol’s head. “I don’t think I know what to do next. I wish I could just tell Phyla that it was her choice, but…”

He can think of so many reasons why this is a bad idea. She never did ask Eros, which to be fair, probably counts little compared to the fact that he woke up. What worries him more, it’s that will learn soon enough just how much of a burden this can be. Having another’s thoughts always in the background-

“Hey, are you okay?” Carol asks, and pulls him closer.

“I really don’t know what to do,” Mar-Vell repeats and turns around so that he can hold her close. “When did the universe get so complicated?”

Instead of an answer, Carol kisses him and he willingly surrenders conscious thought to physical comfort.

Chapter Text

Carol and Mar-vell are first in the kitchen with Chewie following them close behind. She meows loudly and insistently until Mar-vell dumps the content of a can of cat food into her bowl. Chewie makes quick work of her food and disappears, leaving them to clean up after her. The task of cleaning the cat bowl falls to Mar-vell, while Carol prepares something to eat.

Mar-vell makes a valiant attempt while trying to keep as much distance from it as possible.

“This will not bite, you know?” Carol points out.

“Not anymore, since it’s dead,” he answers, while apparently giving up and just holding the bowl under the stream of water.

Before they can discuss it in any detail, the door slides open and admits Moondragon, in an obviously militant mood, given what she says as soon as they turn to look at her.

“You-” she says, as she points at Mar-vell, “are to stay away from the medbay, until I tell you can go in. You-” she points at Carol, “are going to make sure he does that.”

“I did not intend to convince Eros he's having hallucinations,” Mar-vell replies, as he puts the bowl away.  Then, he wipes his hands. “But I'm not going to hide from him.”

Moondragon answers, “He needs to rest and eat something. Then, unless he gets worse, I will tell him.”

Mar-vell starts rubbing his forehead, and this is the point when Carol decides the conversation is probably going to go circular very soon.

“That's reasonable,” she says, holding her hands up. “There's no need to repeat it so many times, unless there's something else that is worrying you.”

“I...” Moondragon seems to reconsider what she intended to say first, so Carol turns back to her breakfast preparations. “Did Genis tell you what happened? About the trial?” When Mar-vell nods, she continues, “I apologize. I'm trying to fix my mistake—I should have told you,” she says while looking at Mar-vell, “about what Thanos did—it should have occurred to me that what Thanos did would not just influence one part of him—one way of interacting-”

“Heather,” Mar-vell says. “You made a mistake. So, did I. I didn't look deeper, I simply let my anger take over—we can go on like this forever, and never come to any conclusion. Just tell me what I need to know.”

“Can I have tea? Or coffee if you don’t have it?” Moondragon asks. “Do you have any questions about what happened?”

Mar-vell looks at her in silence for a while, before saying, “Yes. Sit down, please. This will probably take a while.” 

It’s the first time in a long time that Eros wakes peacefully, without discovering new areas of pain on his body, or feeling the draw of the darkness on him, threatening to pull him under again. He does not remember his dreams, but they must have been nice.

He’s still hurting, and only dares stretching very carefully, but the pain is old and dull now, something that will soon be a thing of the past.

And he is ravenous. His stomach growls like a griffin. Apparently loudly enough that he picks up a faint notion of amusement in the back of his skull that is not his own. Which reminds him, very gently, of the weight he now carries. Feeling along the bond he becomes aware that Phyla is awake and in good spirits, but weak. It does not feel very different from what he would pick up with his empathy, except that would require more effort.

He turns his head and sees her watching him, her face thin and pale. The bone structure clearly visible, he is reminded of Elysius and thus of the woman whose shape ISAAC borrowed to create her. The bitterness of the notion, even though he buries it quickly, can no longer be hidden.

“He really did that? ISAAC I mean? He made her look like your mother?”

+Who was also Thanos’s mother and Thanos programmed ISAAC to create her. The woman who rules Paradise.+

Her amusement is gone, replaced by revulsion. “I’d be sick if I could.”

+I told you. You should have stayed away from me. My head is not a nice place.+

He expects her to protest, but what reaches him through the bond is a grim notion of humour. “Neither is mine.”

She holds out her hand to him. “I’m not an innocent.” The fingers tremble, and he reaches out and steadies them. “And I faced Thanos, too.”

“You still shouldn’t have done this.” Maybe verbal communication manages to transport how serious he is? It still hurts like blazes though, and he sees Phyla flinch. So much for this. +Sorry. Will shut up now.+

Phyla sends a mental snort through their bond. +Like d’ast you will.+ 

“At least this time, I actually didn't have horrible timing,” Genis says, as he looks up at Melissa. She moves her hand, so that instead of stroking his hair, it's now cupping his cheek.  “But I think I'd prefer an alarm clock.”

The humour is strained, but Melissa supposes that the attempt is still a sign that he is feeling better now. “Even a really loud one?”

“Yeah,” Genis says, as he sits up. “It'd still be a nicer way of waking up.” He makes a face, and adds, “I think I might actually prefer if someone wakes my up by shooting at me. Or well, would have preferred if I were sleeping alone.”

“Nice of you to remember that I'm not bullet-proof,” Melissa says.

Genis kisses the top of her head, and then pulls her into a hug. “Most people aren't, so it's not that easy to forget.” Then, he adds, “You probably want to eat breakfast?”

Melissa looks up at him. “I can survive a while longer, if you'd rather stay here and cuddle.”

Genis shakes his head. “No, it's... I'm better now.”

This is absolutely no argument at all. She pulls herself closer to him – as the other way around is not going to happen – and kisses his cheek. “This is wonderful but doesn’t mean you don’t get to cuddle anymore.” She puts another kiss on the tip of his nose and grins. “You are not going to escape that easily.”

Genis grins back. “Oh no,” he says, making a mock-frightened face. “I'm caught and can't run away.”

Melissa starts giggling. “No, you can't.” She settles more comfortably on his lap.

“I guess it's a good thing I don't want to,” Genis says, and kisses her.

Chapter Text

When Heather comes into the medbay carrying a tray, she finds Eros and Phyla are both awake, and talking quietly over the bond. Which she can’t listen in on. There’s another stab of jealousy. Those are getting rather frequent…

+How is he?+ she asks Phyla telepathically, while putting the tray on stand next to Eros's bed.

+Back to being himself, I guess,+ Phyla answers.

“That looks strange,” Eros comments, while giving the bottle of whitish liquid with a straw sticking out of it a look of deep mistrust.

“You're weak, and this contains all the nutrients you need,” she says. “Until all your bones are healed, you are unfortunately stuck with liquids. Once you recover you can eat whatever you want.”

Eros gives the white liquid another look, and sighs, “That is a convincing argument.” Then, he starts drinking while simultaneously trying to convey as much disgust as possible with his body language and expression.

Heather studies him, taking note of everything that could be pointing to him being weaker than he seems. But it does appear that he is recovering, and by the time he finishes the mixture, he appears to be quite ready to face the day. She catches a glimpse of Phyla's worried expression, and wonders if she is the right person to bring this news

But then, who else is there?

Eros clearly also notices that Phyla is worried and looks up at Heather his expression falling.

“Did something happen to my father?” he asks. “Or is Tha-”

Heather shakes her head. “No, it's nothing like this. Thanos has been really quiet recently.”

“Too quiet,” Phyla adds quickly. Was it too quick? Should she let Heather handle this and stay quiet? But that would be unnatural, wouldn’t it?

“Heather,” Eros says looking at her intently, “Why was Tanalth asking me about Mar-vell’s body? I didn’t really think about it before, but the location isn’t secret. They tried to steal his body and the negabands before.”

Heather’s expression doesn’t change, but Phyla can’t help but to think that the Kree had known.

“What did the Kree know, Phyla?” Eros asks. “What happened to Mar-vell’s body?”

“Funny you’re asking about this,” Heather says and sits down on Phyla’s bed. Phyla takes her hand without thinking.

“They stole it,” Eros guesses. “They stole it and wanted to know if we know.”

Heather hesitates for a moment. “They… did steal him. And then misplaced him.” She gets up from Phyla’s bed and sits down next to Eros, then puts a hand on his shoulder. “You do remember the whole panic about the Phoenix? Or did it pass you by?”

Eros shakes his head. “I do remember. But what does this have to do with anything?”

“The Kree managed to use a part of the Phoenix to bring Mar-vell back to life for a short while,” she explains. “It’s not called ‘like a Phoenix from the Ashes’ for nothing. But once it left him, his body ended up on a planet with Cotati, and they somehow managed to bring him back for good. He's here.”

For a while, Eros just watches her with disbelief written over his features. She feels his mind reaching out to her, and lets him, so he can see she's telling the truth.

“Is he-“ Eros starts to say something. Then, he shakes his head. “He’s here because of Genis, isn’t he?”

“The way I understand it, Genis is here because this is where Mar-vell’s body ended up after the Phoenix mess,” Heather replies.

Eros swallows, and then nods. He isn't looking at her or Phyla anymore.

Mar-vell is back. Mar-vell is alive. It’s like somebody suddenly told him the sun is black or that his father loves him. Mar-vell’s death is an intrinsic part of the universe, like gravity. It tore a giant hole into everyone’s heart and the only way to live with it was to accept it as unchangeable fact.  He can’t even consider what it will mean for him, or that Mar-vell might not be happy with him for all that happened in the past few years.

Then something clicks into place, and it’s that Tanalth had tortured to find out if he was aware Mar-vell was alive. That makes much more sense. In a way, it also gives his suffering more meaning. Allows him to feel less like a failure for giving up the information.

He becomes aware of Phyla putting a hand on his shoulder, of her wiping tears off his face. He wants to embrace her, to cry into her shoulder, but he stops himself, since she is hurt so badly. He has no right to cause her pain. 

“Eros? Are you ok?”

She is so concerned, so worried and- and they’re bonded and she can feel all that he is feeling right now. He does his best to rein in his emotions then.

+I’m… fine,+ he lies. They both know it’s a lie, but he doesn’t think he can voice what he is feeling right now without falling apart completely. And with Phyla bonded to him, he would force her live through this with him.

“You’re not,” Phyla says. “Please, you don’t have to be afraid—I’m here. And I can cope.”

+Phyla, please, lie down. You’re still not well,+ he says. +I’m sorry I worried you. I was just overwhelmed. That’s all.+ When she looks unconvinced, he decides it’s time to change the subject. It’s probably not nice of him to pick this subject, yet he doesn’t have a choice. Everything else, and she will notice what he is doing. 

“So, you and your brother seem to be getting along now. I’m glad to see he’s better.” From what he got of their interactions, Genis is a raw enough point for her so her own emotions will force her to react.

It works. Her insides freeze, but she recovers quickly. “It was on both of us,” she says softly. “Not just him. He wasn’t well, he didn’t know how to cope, and I didn’t know how to help, so I was angry with him.” She bites the inside of her cheek, and Eros can taste the after-taste of blood. “And I believed everything my mother said about him—that if he’d just tried a little bit harder, he’d somehow end up becoming the second coming of a saint, who actually never existed in the first place.”

She sighs. “That it was all his fault that I had to stay and never have fun, while he did. That I had to listen to how I was not trying hard enough, because if he had gotten it right, I could have been me.” Shaking her head, she wards off a protest he was not going to make. “He had to die first for me to learn that the only person who is responsible for what I am, is me. And I only really learned now.”

“I’m sorry,” Eros says softly. "It’s partially my fault—I should have done things differently when it comes to your brother.”

Phyla looks at him then. “Maybe you should tell him this?”

“Do you think he wants to talk with me?” Eros asks.

Phyla nods.

Well, it can’t be harder than facing Mar-vell will likely be. After all he already met Genis and he helped them. He wouldn’t have done that if he was unwilling to forgive.

Chapter Text

Genis and Melissa end up curled up against each other, and Genis starts half-napping after a while. Melissa hums something soothing, while stroking his cheek. And then, Chewie starts licking his ear.

He isn't sure how he knows what that means, but he is quite certain she thinks he should eat something. It's not actually like he needs to, he can just absorb photons and not eat for... well, he isn't sure how long, since he had never checked, and arguing with cats is pointless, so he sits up.

“I'm being chased out of bed by a cat,” he grumbles.

“I'm told this is a natural state if you're the owner of a cat, or babysitting one,” Melissa says, as she sits up as well. “Although, I'm also told that most cats do that between four and six a.m.”

Genis stretches his arms over his head. “We're on a spaceship. It's not like we actually have a day or night, so she may be getting confused.”

Chewie makes a very offended noise, and Genis gives her a sheepish look. “Okay. Sorry, you're not confused and I'm going to eat something in a moment.”

Melissa giggles, while Chewie sits and washes her paw with the air of someone who has won the argument.

“I think I will go check on Phyla after breakfast,” Genis says, while he tries to find a shirt that does not have cat fur on it. In the end, he gives up, because there appears to be no such thing anymore. “And there’s something I need to talk about with Eros. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” Melissa says. 

When they show up, Phyla and Eros appear to be discussing some conflict. At least that what Melissa assumes from the short snippet of their conversation she and Genis hear when they enter.

+Genis, it’s good to see you,+ Eros sends.

“Are you feeling better?” Genis asks after a moment.

“Yes, thank you,” the Eternal replies.

“May I?” Genis asks Phyla and when she nods, he sits down next to her on her bed. “You look better.”

Melissa pulls a chair for herself so that she’s close by.

“So only like tenderized meat and not like fried tenderized meat?” Phyla replies with a crooked smile. She tries to put her hand on Genis’s shoulder and winces, since it doesn’t work while she is lying down. “Why are you so big?”

“I don’t think you have room to complain there,” Melissa replies with a grin. “You’re taller than me. He has to pick me up if we want to hug.”

“Should you be doing that?” Genis asks Phyla. “You’re pretty badly hurt.”

“I’m not going to do anything I shouldn’t,” she says firmly.

Genis glances at Eros then. He doesn’t do anything for a while, until finally he says, “I wanted to ask you something, Eros. I’m sorry—I don’t know how to phrase it differently. I know you wanted to have a relationship with my mother. That’s why you agreed to pretend to be my father, until I could protect myself, isn’t it?”

Eros started to look apprehensive when Genis begins to speak, but once the question is out, he just looks nonplussed. He clearly didn’t expect this and it takes him a moment to answer. +Oh that’s complicated. I loved your mother. Right from the beginning, but she chose Mar-vell.+ He shrugs. +This happens. I got over it. Then Mar-vell got sick. And he asked me to look after her when he was gone. Because I was his friend and he trusted me and he knew I had feelings for her.+

“And looking after her meant that you’re… just going to go along with any stupid idea she has?” Genis asks. “I was never going to be my father. And I was never going to be your son—you knew she was going to tell me one day, and- and- I thought I was your son and that you didn’t care. And then I found out and you started acting like I was some strange incomprehensible creature- How did you think this was going to end?”

+I don’t know. I didn’t go along with it because of your father. I went along with it because I loved her. Because I thought it might finally lead to her starting to see me – we became close friends after Mar-vell’s death, but eventually she just sent me off.+ Eros looks at the wall opposite, his eyes dead. +I had no idea how to be a father to you, and I knew she was going to tell you eventually. I tried and I failed.+

Genis looks at Phyla, then at Melissa and then back at Eros. “Okay. So, you failed. Is- Is this it? This is where you want to end this? Because if it is—fine, we don’t have to talk again, but… Can’t you treat me like a separate person? Not Mar-vell’s son, not Elysius’s son, not your failure, but me?”

+I don’t want to end anything.+ Eros turns to look at Genis. +I should have tried being your friend. I should not have taken out my anger at myself for allowing myself to be used by your mother on you. But now, that is really up to you, if you are willing to let me try again.+

“If I weren’t willing, I wouldn’t be talking to you,” Genis says after a moment. “And I’m sorry. I… could have done better too.”

+I’m sorry. You acted far better by me than I did to you, and you saved my life. More than once.  And when I was trying to help you, it only made things worse.+

It looks like the conversation is either going to become circular, or lead towards someone having a minor breakdown, neither which would be constructive. But it seems that not only Melissa notices that. Phyla motions for Eros to move closer and then pulls both Genis and him into a hug.

“You’re both doing great,” she says. “I’m proud of you.”

Chapter Text

Heather brings two bowls of nutrient paste around mid-day and watches Eros sternly until he has eaten everything. It’s rather disconcerting, to tell the truth—it’s not like he’s going to throw it out or hide it under his bed as tempting as the notion might be.

“Would you like to see Mar-vell now?” she asks.

Eros’s mind grinds to a halt. “Does- does he want to see me?”

“I wouldn’t have asked, if he had told me he will not come,” Heather replies. “I’ll ask him to come.”

Eros feels like someone froze both his mind and emotions. He can’t manage to say no—but then he doesn’t know if this is what he truly wants. He can’t manage to say yes, either. He’s too afraid of what will come next.

As if from far away, he registers Heather taking his hand, and Phyla asking him if he’s fine. And then, suddenly, someone else is there and Heather is drawing back. Another face enters his field of vision. For a moment, he doesn’t recognise Mar-vell, because he looks so different—there are no signs of illness, just concern.

“Eros? Are you ok?”

“Gods…” A sensible answer is impossible to manage. His emotions are so confused, shock, guilt, disbelief. He can’t be happy yet. All he knows is that he is hurting, in his heart and his mind far more than his body. The world turned upside down and suddenly… He finds himself being pulled into a strong embrace, which he instinctively returns. Finally, there’s that strong shoulder to cry on.

“I don’t deserve this”, he murmurs, too low to be heard. He may not deserve to be consoled, but he is weak enough to let it happen anyway. Like it happened with Phyla carrying him from the darkness, he knows he is loved and the intensity of feeling takes away his breath and his words. And then Mar-vell speaks again. 

“My friend,” Mar-vell says softly.

“My friend,” he manages to answer, “I missed you so much.”

“I’m so sorry you were hurt because of me”, Mar-vell says, but this just isn’t important. He’s been hurt so often, and for so many stupid reasons that it means pretty much nothing.

“It’s nothing. You are back.” He manages to sit up and look at Mar-vell again, all the angles of his face, no longer haggard and drawn and lined with pain, the blond hair, shorter than he remembers, the blue eyes, so brilliant and yet so warm. There’s the emotional resonance his powers collect from everyone around him, very distinct for every person, and it’s definitely, undeniably Mar-vell. Maybe slightly more relaxed, a bit less restrained. Happier? But him.

“Gods, please don’t wake me now.”

Both Mar-vell and Phyla reassure him he is awake and if he is honest, he knows. His senses, he can still trust. Not his judgement, not what he is feeling all too often, but his senses, they still worked.

“I’m so sorry.” Now it’s his turn to apologize, and the words spill out without his conscious control “I failed you, I couldn’t take care of Elysius, I failed your children, I hurt Genis, and I abandoned them all, I…”

He buries his face in Mar-vell’s shoulder and his friend is holding him and trying to calm him. But he has been holding in so many things, so many injuries and secrets and feelings, that finally they break free, because for once, just once, he is in the presence of someone whose judgement he does not fear. 

For Mar-vell, there is something very familiar in the way Eros holds onto him, and at first the Kree can't place it. He has experienced people breaking down, and, to be honest, he has done it himself. He can only let it run its course… he could call Moondragon and make her calm Eros telepathically, or with a drug. Only, he never thought that was a good solution, because in such action, the purpose was restoring functionality, not finding the reason and – if possible – curing it.

Burying trauma never works in the long term. “It’s alright. It will all be ok. You are safe now.” He is speaking to Eros like he would to a crying child. 

That’s when the dots connect.

It reminds him of Genis.  And thus, makes him wonder how much he knew about his friend, despite seeing behind the shallow, party person façade and trusting him with his beloved. Just what had he not seen?

And then, he realizes he is no longer angry with Eros. He can't be—not anymore. Eros has made mistakes, there is no denying that. But in this display of trust, of showing one’s innermost wounds, there is also no denying that the friendship, the affection, the closeness they had shared in the past had been genuine. Faced with a pain this intense, his anger melts like a glacier on the sun’s surface. ‘I will help you, my friend’, he vows silently.

Slowly, Eros calms down again, but he does not manage a conversation. He holds onto Mar-vell as if expecting him to disappear any moment. It's not all—Eros is leaning into his embrace heavily; the emotional upheaval taxed his still recovering body quite a bit, and Mar-vell persuades him to lie down and sleep for a bit. The Eternal lets go of him after a moment, and closes his eyes.

He watches Phyla pull up Eros’s blanket and kiss his forehead like he had done for Genis on Earth. She seems as shaken as he is, after all, she must have experienced this through their bond. Her cheeks are wet and her lips bloody where she bit herself. Rather belatedly, he realizes that she should not be up at all, and then, wonders if she's as horrible a patient as he had always been.

“I'll sit with him,” he says, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

Phyla looks up at him, and for a moment appears at the verge of protest. But the moment passes, and she lets him help her up, and settles in her bed.  Mar-vell sits down next to Eros and takes his hand. The Eternal stirs slightly, and squeezes back, but doesn't wake.

He half turns, to find Phyla watch him.

“Did my mother do this for you?”

It’s a very surprising change of topic, given that so far, his children studiously avoided mentioning Elysius and he didn’t want to talk about her, either. “What?”

“Sit by your bed and hold your hand, when you were ill.”

Mar-vell shivers involuntarily. “She did.”

Phyla, her eyes half closed already, smiles. “Lucky you...”

Before he can feel offended, or protest, she continues, “She never did that for me. Not even in the fake memories she gave me. You’d think she’d put it in there. After all, it didn’t cost her anything, to make me believe she loved me, did it? It’s not like it would have been real...” Her voice grows ever lower, as she’s literally falling asleep mid-sentence. Her skin turns navy blue and Mar-vell wonders if he looks as eerie as this when he is using his cosmic awareness. “... but I guess it wasn’t worth the bother... With mothers, we all were unlucky... at least mine wanted me... once...”

And just like that, she’s out like a light, snoring softly, her cheeks wet as the blue fades. He turns back to Eros, to see if he can let go for a moment, he wonders if there is some moisture shimmering on his face, too.

‘I can mother you no longer.’ Phyla probably was right.

Chapter Text

“Everything alright?” Carol asks as she enters the medbay. She keeps her voice low, since she can see that Phyla and Eros are both asleep.

“I don’t know,” Mar-vell replies, and looks at Eros with a frown. “I’m starting to feel like everything is taking a turn for the worse every time I start looking at it, and there are a lot of things I’ve not looked at for a long time.”

Carol sits down next to him, and puts her arm around his shoulders. “That bad?”

Mar-vell rests his head on her shoulder.  “Sort of. Or maybe, it is just that my return has thrown everything off course and brings out all the things that would usually stay safely hidden.”

That is as good an explanation as any, Carol thinks. Still, she asks for clarification.

“I am not sure if all the painful secrets people spilled onto me since I am back – and that means what happened on Hala, too – really have to do with me. Or if it is that they think I can deal with them, or that I will care how they feel, when nobody else will.”

“You do care?” Carol asks softly. After all she saw of Mar-vell she is quite sure he does.

“Yes, I do. But so will most people, I guess. Certainly, Phyla would have cared about Eros, and so would Captain America, or the Scarlet Witch. Yet, it doesn’t seem like he opened to them in the way he did with me just now.”

Which is obviously true – she does know Steve very well and that he is a kind person, even if he hides it behind the stern exterior of Captain America. “I told you back when we were both Avengers that you are special. That people see something in you that differs from what they see in me, or Steve, or Tony. I couldn’t say why that is. Maybe Moondragon could figure it out.”

Mar-vell makes a face. “I think I will pass there.” 

Phyla isn't sure what prompts her to say what she says, when her brain finally processes what she sees after waking up. It's not that she cares all that much that her father is sleeping with another woman. To be honest, she’d probably care more if he was still willing to sleep with her mother. Yet, somehow words spill out of her mouth that afterwards make her cringe.

“Nobody told me you had the same taste in women as that Yon-Rogg person,” she says. “He kept whining that he didn't sleep with her.”

There had been times, when Phyla wondered how Genis would manage to say some of the things he did. It was like he could naturally stumble on the worst combination of meaning and words by sheer accident. She had also assumed that it was something they did not share.

Until now. Mar-vell and Carol Danvers both watch her with completely still expressions.

“Can we go back so I can shoot him?” her father finally asks, just as Carol Danvers announces, “I'm shooting him.”

Then they both look at each other for a moment, and nod, and announce almost at the same time, “We're both shooting Yon-Rogg.”

“I actually wasn't listening to him,” Phyla offers. “He was just whining about that medic and then about you, so...” Since this is a subject she is not one she is comfortable pursuing, she decides to ask something that might at least be useful. “Anyway, do you know what happened to him? I don’t think I remember.”

Mar-vell reaches out with his cosmic awareness and arches his eyebrows. “He was put on trial for killing comm operators.”

“Hm, I guess we can let the Kree deal with him then,” Carol says.

Mar-vell nods. Then, he looks back at Phyla. “I need to ask you something—when do you plan to end the bond with Eros?”

At least Phyla is prepared to answer this question. “Once we’re both healed,” she says. “Since one of us will need to go into the Negative Zone, we need to be at our best.” She does her best to hide her dread at this prospect and it seems to work. Or at least, if they notice her flinching, they seem to suspect a different reason for it.

“And how are you holding up?” Mar-vell asks. Phyla hears the concern in his voice. Does he still expect Eros to mess up? “Sharing consciousness with another person can be a strain.”

“I’m fine,” Phyla says. “Really.” She mimes a shrug. It wasn’t pleasant to feel Eros fall apart, but she’s been through much worse and sharing minds isn’t something she is unfamiliar with, after being with Heather for so long. “I’ve been in the Guardians in the Galaxy with Mantis and Heather – I’m used to being mindlinked. It’s not a problem.”

Mar-vell hesitates, but to Phyla’s surprise, doesn’t counter her. Instead, he nods. “Those wouldn’t be the Guardians of the Galaxy from the future,” he says.

“No—well, we met one—Vance, but we were all from the present,” Phyla says and starts explaining who exactly was involved and why.

They cannot follow this subject to its conclusion, though, because that is when Genis pokes in with Melissa behind him and asks if they’d like to play something called Pandemic. She notices something fluffy and ginger around Genis’s legs, which makes a loud screech and runs off.

Chapter Text

For the second time, Eros is not awakened by nightmares. He hears voices at the edge of his consciousness—some of them familiar, some not, and slowly they shape themselves into a conversation.

“-and that's the third time, and they still hadn't caught on I'm the same captain,” the lowest male voice says. “You should move to Beijing—there are the most markers there.”

Eros opens his eyes a fraction, and sees an elbow and a part of a back in a green sweater; Phyla curled up on her bed and watching the floor intently, and Genis with his friend. Opposite of them sits Carol Danvers, with a large, fluffy ginger cat on her lap. Occasionally, the cat bares her fangs and hisses faintly in the direction of Phyla.

He levers himself on his elbow to have a better view, and both Phyla and Carol turn to look at him.

It follows like a domino now—that Carol and Phyla notice makes Genis turn around, and the owner of the green sweater—and Eros only then remembers that Mar-vell is alive again. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying again. He will not get used to this any time soon. Maybe never. 

“Hi?” Genis says.

“How are you?” Mar-vell follows almost at the same moment.

At least he can give a coherent answer this time. “Rather sore,” he replies making a face. “I must offer my apologies—I'm definitely not at my best now.”

While everyone tries to assure him that no apology is necessary he finds this even more embarrassing. Before he can ask them about their game, so they will be distracted from the trembling in his voice, the door opens and Heather comes in, carrying another tray with the grey slurry.

He groans.

“Sit up, you need to make up for lost time,” Heather commands. Phyla glares at her, and he feels something like embarrassed disbelief over their bond.

Mar-vell gets up from the floor and fluffs his pillow, and Eros feels his face turn bright red.

“Come on, you two,” Carol Danvers says, as she gets up. “We're going to be in the way.”

Genis and his friend follow suit, and start picking up the board, while Heather puts the tray on his lap. Then she starts checking the various readings, while Eros tries to be brave and not get defeated by gruel. She could at least put something in it, so that it would taste of something else than cardboard.

And it probably wouldn't be a good idea to surreptitiously offer it to Genis, whom Eros had seen eating something that had been burnt on one side, and raw on the other. Eros still isn't sure what it had supposed to have been other than possibly a nascent horror from the darkest dimensions of doom. That, or it had been one of Elysius’s doomed attempts at domesticity. 

Mar-vell hides a smile at the face Eros makes. The food doesn’t look in any way worse than the army rations he ate most of his life. He assumes that Eros is whining on principle, to assert at least some control when he has none. So, he decides to humour him, and makes a face, too.

“Almost makes me miss the old army rations,” he comments.

Eros, who has been spooning in the gruel with the face of a martyr, almost spits it out when he starts laughing. “Actually, those are worse. Much, much worse. I once heard this joke on Earth, that the more dangerous the army, the more terrible the food – well, if the Kree were as dangerous as their food is horrible, they would have conquered the universe by now.”

Mar-vell laughs, and raises a token protest, but he can’t exactly fault the thought. He is relieved, though, that Eros seems to be willing to interact with him, normally.

Moondragon on the other hand, listens to them for a few more moments, and then interrupts them: “Well, if it is so terrible, just meditate and replenish your energy stores. Then you can get back to eating primya or whatever you fancy.”

Mar-vell almost says, ‘if Elysius doesn’t cook it’ and bites his tongue to keep the thought from spilling. Mentioning this name would probably open all sorts of old wounds, and not so old ones.

Eros doesn’t manage to eat much of the gruel, before he puts it away again. “I am not sure I can concentrate now. All of this was a bit much,” he smiles regretfully and looks up at Mar-vell and at Phyla and then at Heather. “I don't have your discipline.”

“Think about it. We’ll be grounded here for at least a day or so, until the Thunderbolts arrive,” Heather says with a shrug.

Phyla nods and smiles at him. “You could sit in the Cotati grove. They’ll help. It’s peaceful around them.”

“There are Cotati here?” Eros asks. “Isn’t it dangerous for them?”

“Possibly,” Mar-vell says. “But they can’t exactly pick where they grow. And since they’re already here, Phyla is right—you can ask them for help.”

Eros seems to still be hesitant, and Phyla reveals what about when she bursts out, “You can ask Genis to help you—he can make sure you don’t trip.”

Chapter Text

Heather watches through the tinted windows of her bridge how Genis helps Eros settle down in the shadow of the Cotati. They are talking for a moment, then Genis seems to hear something because he startles. He nods, and settles down beside Eros in a similar meditative pose. Beside her, Mar-vell watches, and after a moment she realises he is watching her, not them.

“What was it like?” she asks. “Being back brought back to life by them? I don’t think anybody knew they could do that.”

Mar-vell frowns. “I remember coolness. A gentle embrace of dark green. Feeling carried and held, connected to the universe by a million feelers. Being a part of everything, even more than when Eon gave me the cosmic awareness.” He gestures towards the Eternal, who finally seems to relax some. “He will be fine.”

“I’m not sure.” Heather shrugs. “I watch him, and I realise how lucky I am. This could have been me.”

Feeling his sceptical gaze, she shrugs. “It’s not a secret. A couple of years back, something ugly happened. The Dragon of the Moon had grown very strong in me. I ended up on trial, too. I was let off, the dragon driven into submission once, considered not to blame for what I had done under its demonic influence.” She snorts humourlessly. “I’m a lot tougher than a human. But Shaolom training can only do so much. I’m no Eternal. If someone had done to me what they did to him, I’d be dead.”

“Heather?” There is a steely tone in Mar-vell’s voice. “Just what did you do that you compare yourself to Eros?”

“I used my powers to make Thor to share my bed. And I killed Drax, but he got better.”

“Does Phyla know that?” Mar-vell sounds shocked. Almost speechless, except not.

“She does.” Heather sighs. “She blames the Dragon of the Moon who was possessing me then.”

“And you don’t?”

“Do you think Eros blames Thanos who damaged his brain and ruined his control over his powers? Who left a bit of himself in his mind, making him become what he always feared?” she answers with another question. “If you did something, with your own hands, even if the world decides that maybe that wasn’t you, it still was. Your hands, your powers. Why do you think someone running from responsibility all his life is willing to suffer like this?”

She feels Mar-vell’s hand on her shoulder as he clearly recognises the self-loathing in her voice. “Maybe Mentor was wiser in his decision here, than Odin and Thor had been concerning me, when they decided to redeem me instead of punishing me. Maybe one needs to pay, even if the sin is not one’s own. Maybe that way there will eventually be peace.”

Her eyes swim and she closes them. When she looks out again, she is alone. 

Genis watches, fascinated. He’s heard of healing factors, but never seen them work. But this isn’t a healing factor, not a biological function, but something else entirely. A gift from the Celestials, and like many of these it’s looking rather… creepy.

Bruises fade visibly; the swollen parts of Eros’s face shrink rapidly and become normal, his nose rights itself. Slowly, his posture grows more confident, as he sits up from his hunched position, and finally cradles his injured hand to his chest, when before he treated it like it wasn’t a part of him.

Out of instinct, Genis reaches out and puts a hand on Eros’s shoulder. “It’s going to be OK.” For a few heartbeats, Eros leans against him, and Genis still feels the power flow, coil around the Eternal and then into his hand. A moment of hesitation, and then his fingers visibly move, as much as the splints and bandages allow it.

When he looks up, Eros is crying with relief. “It’s still working.” He lifts his good hand to undo the bandages and drops it again. “Can you… take off the bandages? I… I’m afraid to look at it.”

“I think so,” Genis says, and carefully starts peeling off the layers. There’s a twinge of curiosity what happened to it and that twinge is enough for the cosmic awareness to show it to him.

A giant blue hand folding the fingers back on themselves like sticks, and then squeezing hard, even as the bones break and splinter.

Genis winces, feeling like he is going to be sick. He bites his lip, but of course he doesn’t bleed. Suddenly he doesn’t feel sorry anymore that Phyla killed Tanalth. “Eros… I’m sorry. We should have stopped that from happening.” He doesn’t know how, except he wonders if maybe he had turned on his powers earlier…

Only later does he realise this was quite a non sequitur, yet the Eternal seems to understand perfectly. He puts his good hand on Genis’s shoulder. “I’m not going to say it’s nothing, because it hurt like hell. But what happened afterwards, that… made it all worth it. Don’t feel bad. There’s really no reason to.”

Since he isn’t even half as good as Eros at making intuitive leaps, he has to ask: “What? How?”

“That you’re all back. That… you cared enough to save me, not once, but so many times… against that, physical pain is nothing.”

Now they are both crying, but fortunately nobody can see it. “The same is true for me,” he admits. He sort of wants to hug Eros and it must have shown, because the Eternal reaches out to him, putting the good hand on his shoulder and then they embrace.

When they calm down a little, he makes another attempt at unwrapping the bandage, and now it works. It takes some time, and the smell of disinfectant makes him want to sneeze. The lowest part of the dressings is caked with dried blood and other secretions, but the hand inside is whole, the skin unbroken and everything in the right place, which seems nothing short of miraculous. Genis looks up at Eros, who’s still leaning against him and smiles as reassuringly as he can manage. “There. Looks fine to me.”

Only once Genis makes this pronouncement does Eros look at dare to open his eyes. He holds his hand up in front of his face and balls it into a fist a few times, before letting out a relieved sigh as tears stream over his face. Then, he wraps his arms around Genis again, and says, “Thank you. For everything.”

Chapter Text

“How are you?” Mar-vell asks Phyla as he enters the medbay again. He looks … stoic as usual, but by now Phyla is getting better at reading him and she thinks he is upset.

“The same I was when you left,” Phyla replies with a smile, trying to look calm. “Bed-ridden.”

Mar-vell gives her a crooked smile. “That probably was not the smartest question.”

Phyla smiles back and motions for him to sit down. Then, she asks, “Heather had to stay and make sure Eros is meditating, right?”

She’s surprised when her father looks… well, she can’t tell how. He just sort of goes blank. Impulsively, she reaches out to Eros, but he is meditating and seems content.

“Did something happen?” she asks.

“No, we just talked,” Mar-vell says. “About Eros and his trial, and Heather’s past. I’m not… sure what to make of what she told me.”

That sounds weird. She frowns. “Just what did she tell you?”

“About Thor.”

Which surprises Phyla because Heather doesn’t like talking about this. She clearly still feels guilty, Phyla guesses. “Did she tell you that he forbade her to tell Odin about it? They only judged her for killing Drax, who at this point was back from the dead, again.”

“It was Thor’s choice,” Mar-vell says. “Whatever Heather felt he should do, should have no bearing on his decisions.”

That’s true, of course. “That’s why she thinks she got luckier than she deserved. Although all of this was a long time ago and I guess it’s the whole mess with Eros and Thanos that made her think of it again.”

“I suppose so,” Mar-vell replies. “Please remind me that returning to life after a decade means a lot of catching up on unpleasant news, if I ever get it into my head to do it again.”

Oh yes. Does it ever. Still uncharacteristically forthright, Phy bursts out: “Not just you”, and bites her lip.

“I’m… sorry?” Mar-vell says, clearly confused by her comment. “I’m not sure I understand what you meant by this.”

“Well, you aren’t the only one learning new things now”, Phyla says and colours bright red. “I’m also learning about you.” She decides this is the right point to hide under the blanket again.

She can’t see what Mar-vell is doing, but she can hear the mounting confusion in his voice. “Phyla?”

Really, she knows she’s being immature, but hiding under the blanket does help her gather her courage. “Remember the old medic on Equivox? She… told me that your first was your instructor in the Academy.”

“My first what?”

“Partner?” Phyla squeaks out. She probably should have left the subject alone.

There’s silence outside. Then she hears her father gasp.

“Of course, Ye-Nar would know.” He sounds annoyed, and Phy swears to herself she will keep her mouth shut from now on. “It’s ancient history. She should not have brought it up.”

This sounds like it’s a definitive end to the conversation—and frankly, Phyla is relieved. It never was any of her business in the first place. Still, she stays underneath the blanket until she hears his steps recede. 

Mar-vell twists under Carol's punch, and tries to kick her legs from underneath her. Given that it's 'no powers' sparring, she has to jump back. It costs her balance for a moment, and that is something an experienced opponent will always use. She can't dodge the punch that is coming—there's simply not enough time, but she can grab his hand and throw him down on the mat.

Carol extends her hand, and helps Mar-vell pick himself up.

“Being able to survive being hit with a building gives you bad habits,” he says. “Or at least it's given me some.”

Carol gives him a once over, and says, “Uh-huh. Like being miles away from what's going on?”

Mar-vell shakes his head. She is right—his thoughts are still in the medbay, on how he'd reacted to what was... well, natural curiosity.

“I think I over-reacted,” he says, and then rather unwillingly explains exactly what he over-reacted about.

Carol motions for him to sit down on the mat beside her. “And why did you? Normally you pretty much never lose your cool.”

Mar-vell sits down beside her and rests his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know.”

Carol is silent for a moment, and then turns around to embrace him. “Well, you can figure that out in your time.” Mar-vell nods into her shoulder. “First you should apologize to Phyla. And probably tell her that the subject makes you uncomfortable. I guess she isn't all that comfortable with it either—children usually find it very surprising that their parents didn't spring from the ground adult and married.” Then, after a moment, she adds, “Well, American children at least.”

“I wouldn't know,” Mar-vell says. “I'd see my parents only a few times during the year once I was enrolled in the academy. It was not exactly conductive of discovering anything about them. I don’t think I even know how they met.” He frowns. “I guess I never moved beyond believing my parents did spring from the ground adult and married.”

Carol chuckles. “With me, I had this horribly embarrassing conversation when I was thirteen, where my mother told me how she and my father met and tried to leave out everything inappropriate for my hearing… It made no sense that way. Later, one of my brothers told me the whole story, but by that time I was old enough and annoyed enough not to care.”

“Being a parent apparently has a lot of aspects I never considered”, Mar-vell says and blushes.

“Well, you're doing quite well for somebody who doesn't have a clue, then,” Carol says.

“I've been told not having a clue is a natural state for parents?” Mar-vell replies.

“We can ask Kit’s mom when we're back on Earth,” Carol replies. “She should know about that.”

He nods, and then sighs. Carol wraps her arms around him. “Take your time. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Chapter Text

Eros and Genis enter the medbay together. Eros seems to be telling Genis something, but he stops when the door hisses closed. She can feel they managed to get over some of the awkwardness between them which almost entices her to come out from under the blanket.

“Phyla?” Genis asks. She pokes her head out a moment later, and sees two concerned faces looking at her. So, she explains, “Father is never going to talk to me again.”

“He still talks to me,” Genis points out. “What happened?”

Phyla ducks under the blanket again instead of answering. The conversation was embarrassing enough, and she doubts Genis would understand why.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want to,” Eros says soothingly and sits down on the bed beside her. She feels him put a hand on the blanket mountain.   

Phyla hesitates. Maybe she is over-reacting? She is embarrassed still, but maybe hearing an outside opinion will help? She pulls the blanket off again and sits up, taking his hand.

“There was this old medic on Equivox—she told me that my father had an affair with one of his instructors at the Academy. It’s not like what I would think that my father would have done,” she admits. “And yet it seems like the stories I heard about him were not all that… complete.” She sums up what Heather and Rick told her about Mar-vell and the women in his life and sees Eros’s eyes widen. And then he turns crimson and looks like he wants to hide under his blanket now, too.

“That’s what my mother did, too?” she guesses. “You don’t have to spare my feelings.” The laughter that tears from her insides is bitter and hurts like hell. “There isn’t anything that could be spared anymore.”

Genis puts his hand on her shoulders. “So, mother was waving a banner with an invitation on it around our father. Lots of people do that.”

“I know,” Phyla says. “But she never admitted any of it. That- that she’s not perfect, that our father isn’t a walking ideal…”

“Are you disappointed?” Eros asks gently. It doesn't make the question any more pleasant to hear or answer.

“I... don't know if what I feel towards my mother can be called disappointment,” Phyla says softly. “And if she had had some kind of chaste romance from a Troyjan flick it wouldn't change anything.”

“I'm sorry,” Eros says.

“It's not your apology to make,” Phyla says. “And I am not going to accept one from her.”

Eros hesitates for a moment, then he very carefully wraps his arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” he says in a choked voice.

“I am sorry. I know you love her,” she whispers. She didn’t need him to admit it to Genis; it was always obvious to her, just watching him around her mother.

“Whatever I feel for her, or felt for her, does not excuse her,” he answers softly, stroking her hair. Somehow, his concern and sadness undoes her far more than other attempts at comfort and she starts sobbing.

“She made me a monster. A monster like her.” There are no other words for it.

“No”, Eros says and lifts her chin with a finger, so she is looking into his eyes, which are shining brightly with his own tears. “You are not a monster. You could never be a monster.”

“Not true.” She buries her face in his shoulder again, aware of the blood in her lungs, brought on by her sobs. She needs to pull herself together, or she will endanger Eros, so she does that. Then, she looks up and meets her brother’s gaze. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Genis says and her heart sinks. “But you’re not a monster. A monster wouldn’t feel bad about what they’ve done.” He leans down and awkwardly kisses her bald head, because she buried her face in Eros’s shoulder again.

Eros holds her, not merely with his arms, but with all his love and strength, just like she did when she carried him from the darkness. Two broken things depending on each other.

So she clings to him, as he strokes her back. “Hold me. Please hold me. Don’t let me go away…”

“Never,” he whispers. “I love you.”

Genis watches Eros and Phyla for a moment. It’s weird—he’s so very certain that their father won’t hate them or be disappointed in them for a stupid mistake, even if he’s never sure of it with others. Clearly, it’s not the same for Phyla.

And someone needs to do something—Eros probably ought to stay with Phyla, since she asked him to, but Genis can deal with the other part of the mess.

Genis reaches out and squeezes Eros’s shoulder. “I’ll go and get my father. I am sure he is going to talk to her again. That’s just silly.”

He gets up and leaves the Eternal and his sister, and then stops outside of the medbay. Since Heather's ship is fairly big and there’s also the grove, and Carol’s ship, finding someone is more complicated than just checking a few rooms. Also, as Genis discovered, this approach has downsides. Fortunately, Genis can cheat.

He takes a deep breath and centres himself—he takes a moment to focus on the now and then, on how the air smells of plastic and metal, of how the floor is cold under his feet, on his own exasperation with the current situation, and makes this his anchor.

He reaches out—tentatively at first, and then with more confidence when nothing happens. It's easy. No, more than easy—natural, like breathing. It's limiting himself that requires conscious effort, but now he knows how to.

He senses the others—Eros and his mind, alive with worry and guilt and Phyla, who is all glass shards of suffering and embarrassment. Then, further, Moondragon—cold steel focus and confidence. There's Una—and where the last time he sensed her she'd been all spikes and barbs, now her presence had softened. Chewie, who is distinctly unimpressed with the Kree and human courtship. Melissa is nearby too, bright and clear and hard, her presence like a song—and he’s getting distracted. He looks away, and senses the familiar presence of Rick, and further still, in Heather’s training room, there is Carol—her focus is more like a burning flame, than Moondragon’s cold steel and with her Mar-vell.

Genis pulls his consciousness back, and lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Then, he heads towards the training room. This time, he is definitely going to knock first.

Chapter Text

Eros keeps sitting on Phyla’s bed and watches her sleep as moments pass since Genis had left and she had dozed off. He should probably get up and call Heather and tell her what Phyla had said—at least a part of it, but he doesn't know if Moondragon will have any solution. But he’s deeply tired, too. He just doesn’t want to get up.

He could tell Phyla what he had told the amalgam of Ultron and Hank Pym--”Love yourself”--but if this would truly help? He cannot say. The problem isn't hatred, this time, either of self or of others, but something infinitely more complex. Guilt is an insidious thing as he knows all too well. He shouldn’t even be here yet leaving would once again hurt someone and vowed to never do that again.

The door hisses open, and he looks up, his tired thoughts scattering before he can reach any sensible conclusion.

He watches Mar-vell enter the medbay in silence and approach him. Then, his friend holds his hand out, but Eros shakes his head. “I promised not to let her go,” he whispers.

“I'll stay and look after her,” Mar-vell replies his voice equally low. “She will worry about you and feel guilty if she thinks you didn't get enough rest because of her.”

Eros can't exactly argue with that, and reluctantly drops Phyla's hand. He lets Mar-vell help him to bed, and watches his friend sit down next to Phyla. It only takes him moments to drift to sleep, utterly spent after the healing.

Rick plops comfortably on a chair and announces with a grin, “I suspect the Kree recognize each other by the shape of their chins mostly.”

“You'll have to explain that,” Melissa says, while Una rolls her eyes.

“Well, most of them—at least the military, Accusers and such, wear either domino masks or helmets which end here,” he replies as he indicates a line ending at his nose.

“Are you really going to tell me humans can’t tell one another apart, if you hide a small part of their face?” Una scoffs.

“That’s not small,” Rick protests. “It’s literally half of it. Seriously, whenever Marv pulled down his mask, it was like ‘who is this guy’.”

“Maybe it’s too make them look more unified and less like individuals?” Melissa guesses.

Rick groans then, which probably was to be expected. “And now you made everything serious and depressing.” He looks around. “Say, has anyone seen Genis? It’s close to lunch time.”

“Which is why I came here,” Genis says as he enters the kitchen. He puts his arm over Melissa’s shoulders. “How about we eat together?”

“Let’s,” Melissa says, and cuddles to Genis. Rick quietly promises to himself that the next time he’s on a space trip with two affectionate couples, he is going to take Marlo. Really, he feels like he ended up in some sort of kitschy glurge-y postcards: Marv and Carol are a pair of rabbits, Melissa and Genis are like a pair of puppies in a basket…

And then, because his brain likes to wander into odd places, he wonders if Phyla and Moondragon will be as cuddly. Did he just put cuddly and Moondragon in the same sentence?

Una looks quite unhappy with the contents of the fridge. “Say, do you think if Moondragon will mind if we borrow some food from her?”

“Let’s check,” Melissa says as she peels away from Genis. “We’ll be back in a moment.”

The two women leave together, Una being uncharacteristically quiet. Perhaps Moondragon scares her?

Which leaves Rick and Genis alone.

There are moments when Rick knows that he should not mention what is on his mind. They are, admittedly few, but they happen. This is not one of them. “Say, are you two having performance anxiety because your dad is around?”

Genis falls silent and stares at Rick for a moment, before saying, “What.”

“You and Melissa have been acting awfully chaste,” Rick continues, because his mouth has a mind of its own, apparently, “and that’s not like you.”

“Chaste?” Genis asks. “That means something like clean?”

“You’re not having any sex,” Rick replies somewhat more bluntly than he intended.

“What makes you think that?” Genis asks, his eyes wide. He’s even starting to blush.

“Well, your reaction just confirmed it,” Rick replies. “And you know, I’ve been in your head.”

Genis eyes him for a moment and then asks, “But why would you think it’s because my father?”

“Well, he could catch you,” Rick says somewhat lamely.

“That’s not-“ Genis says and then hesitates. “Rick, I like you a lot, but some things are just none of your business.”

Rick raises his hands defensively but lets them fall a moment later. “Uh… Yeah, sorry about that. None of my business.”

They stand like two idiots for a moment, before eventually Genis says, “So, do you have anything… you know, less… anything else to tell me?”

Chapter Text

Phyla wakes up when she feels someone touch her hand. She opens her eyes and sees that it's Mar-vell. Before she can start wondering what happened to Eros, her father indicates the other bed, where the Eternal is sleeping.

“Can we talk?” he asks. Phyla isn't sure if she's reading his expression right, but she thinks he looks contrite.

Phyla nods after a moment and grips his fingers before he can decide to pull his hand away.

“I over-reacted before,” he continues. “You only just met me, and you only know... stories, I suppose.”

“It's not really my business,” Phyla replies. “I just...” She trails off, and wonders what to say next—that her mother would have a fit if she knew?

Mar-vell watches her for a moment, and when she can't seem to think he says, “I'm sorry. It's not that this isn't your business—it's just a subject that I'd rather not discuss with anyone.”

“It isn’t my business.” Phyla would shrug if she dared. “I was just so very surprised about what this woman told me. And then Rick said some things…”

“As Rick is wont to do,” Mar-vell says, and shakes his head in fond exasperation.

“I shouldn’t have talked to him about this,” she says, turning away.

Now her father is looking contrite. “That’s not what I meant.” He gently pushes her shoulder to make her turn back. “I’m afraid I am about as new to this as you are. I don’t want you to think that there are things you can’t talk to me about. I... I am making this up as I go along?”

That makes Phyla smile because suddenly her father looks so very... normal, and so very confused, just like she feels. She can’t do anything except answering this honesty with her own. “And I’m really not used to thinking of you as a real person. I mean, there is this image in my head from what my mother put there, and it’s not somebody who’d ever be insecure, or feel defensive, or feel confused.” She squeezes his hand. “I need to get used to the real you.”

Mar-vell nods. “Well, the real me is a lot less perfect than the imaginary me.” He sighs. “Yes, I had an affair with a teacher when I was in the academy. She was just a few years older than me and all the cadets were smitten with her. That she was actually interested in me was rather flattering…”

Phyla becomes aware she is staring. In a way, this describes how it started with her and Heather and she feels herself blush. “Did you love her?” The question is out before she can stop herself.

Her father bites his lip and she can feel him tense. “It’s OK. If you don’t want to answer me, you don’t have to. Just tell me to shut up?”

He smiles ruefully. “Actually, I just caught myself thinking if the answer is appropriate for you to hear, which is silly. You are an adult. And I guess there’s also enough vanity in me that I don’t want you to think badly about me.”

Phyla frowns. That is of course a rather natural response, although – compared to what Heather confessed to her, having an affair with someone to put one over your comrades is child’s play. “I’ll not think badly about you. I am very, very sure of that”, she says. “And whatever my mother would think about it… Well, I am going to ignore that. I don’t want to care about that anymore.”

Mar-vell cups her cheek in his hand. “At one point, we should talk about your mother. When you decide the moment is right.”

“That will be never,” she answers spontaneously, but it’s not true, is it? She has been talking about her mother all the time. Whenever she’s not in control of what she says, her thoughts and feelings about her mother spill out of her like blood from a wound. And apparently, this is another such moment, because despite herself, she asks: “Did you love her?”

“Yes.” The answer is calm, and without any hesitation or doubt. “I loved who I knew back then. Who helped me put down a few roots after being without any for so long, who sat by my bed when I was dying.”

Phyla did not think she’d ever see her father cry. And then she realises that while she sort of has experience in dying, with her, it was quick, violent, and unexpected. To walk through the seconds, minutes, hours and days, with this knowledge and certainty up ahead, with one’s own body betraying one piece by piece… She feels helpless. She wants to say she’s sorry that he now cannot love the woman anymore who was by his side except it’s not her fault.

Before she can think of anything to say, her father composes himself. “I'm sorry,” he says.

“You don't have to apologize for not being immune to the universe being unpleasant,” Phyla says.

Eros is pretty sure he had not slept long. Injured or not, sleeping had been the most prominent occupation of his recently. Slowly, he sits up, and looks around the medbay. Phyla is in her bed, propped up on pillows, and Mar-vell sits on the chair beside her, a book on his lap. It was the calm, steady sound of his voice that woke him up, he guesses.

“…while in the presence of the ruler of the city, always concentrated his gaze on a point one foot above and six inches to the left of the man's head.”

Mar-vell stops reading and looks at him, and so does Phyla.

“How are you feeling?” Mar-vell asks.

Since saying that he is fine would be too blatant a lie—his bone deep exhaustion is not fading anytime soon—Eros settles for, “Still tired.” Then, before it can provoke any sort of a fuss, he adds, “But don't stop what you're doing on my account. I'm fine here.”

Mar-vell and Phyla share a glance and then Mar-vell resumes reading. The sound of his clear baritone is soothing, and Eros listens intently. Vaguely, some of the names of the characters seem familiar; probably one of the women he knew on Earth told him about it or even made him read it. The book is also funny, and he finds himself chuckling occasionally.

Chapter Text

When Genis and Melissa get back to the kitchen, they find Rick and Una in the middle of a discussion.

“I just don’t see how something like the Phoenix, which eats planets and blows up suns, could have brought Mar-vell back from the dead”, Una complains. “That makes no sense at all.”

Rick shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask it, and I hope I never get the opportunity to. But we have a saying on earth that something raises like a phoenix from the ashes, so I guess it could resurrect something, too.”

Una scoffs. “Shows what you know on your primitive backwater planet.”

“The Phoenix really isn't a force of destruction, though,” Genis chimes in, frowning. “It's a... um... thing that represents that there can be no life without death.”

“It does tend to cause a lot of destruction,” Rick admits. “So, when it came towards earth, people kind of got uneasy, and then went from uneasy to 'argh, no no no' and then it turned out it came with a lot of destruction after all.”

“Yeah, but it's not like what Scott Summers intended would have ended in less destruction,” Genis says. “I mean, putting it in a... what? sixteen-year-old girl? That's asking for her to burn the world down—the Phoenix is all about extremes, and the same applies to being a teen, right?”

Melissa shakes her head. “Well, it's not like adults handled it any better, after all. I guess power like that goes to your head no matter how old or wise or clever you are.”

Genis shrugs, then moves closer to Melissa and wraps his arms around her. “That's because you'd need to... I don't know what kind of person you'd have to be not to start tearing everything down when you have the thing that is all about bringing new things by destroying old things in your head.”

“We could ask Rachel Grey,” Rick says.

Una groans. “Seriously? You're telling me there's actually a human that did not go insane while being the host of the Phoenix? Next thing you'll tell me one is married to Death.”

“Earth isn't that crazy,” Rick protests. Then, feeling like the statement might be tempting fate, he adds, “Well, a few weeks during the year, it's not that insane.”

“Uh-huh,” Una snorts, and rolls her eyes. “No, it's not. It only gets invaded once a year.”

“Great. Our hat is being invaded all the time,” Rick groans. That inevitably leads to Genis and Una giving him equally confused looks, and then the Kree woman demands an explanation, which means that he spends the next half an hour talking about Star Trek to two aliens. 

“No, see, it makes perfect sense,” Rick says, their discussion having moved from Star Trek to Science Fiction in general and then to Star Wars, “because whining is genetic in the Skywalker line. Anakin whines, Luke whines...”

“Leia doesn't,” Carol says, while Melissa lets out a theatrical moan. She marches towards the fridge and hands Genis a package of what Rick suspects might be some alien form of tofu. “Cut this into squares, we better get around to preparing lunch.”

“Okay, then there's something that induces whining on Tatooine,” Rick counters.

“Jabba doesn't whine,” Carol replies.

Genis studies the alien tofu for a while, before cutting it into somewhat wobbly cubes.

“I still think it's a stupid story,” he says. “Take that cyborg with faulty artificial lungs. Wasn't he supposed to be important? Why didn't they exchange them for ones that work?”

Rick groans. “He spent half the movie complaining about it.”

“Well, it's a good point—I always thought Palpatine made Vader keep the old cybernetics as a means of asserting his power over him,” Carol replies. Then, she quickly explains which character is Palpatine.

Genis thinks about this and shrugs. “That makes some sense, I guess.”

“I have no idea what they're talking about,” Una whispers to Melissa, who shrugs.

“They're over-thinking a movie,” she replies. “Apparently, it's fun.”

Rick sighs heavily. “No, it's not. And he comments on all movies. I mean, here you are watching Godzilla, and either you have to listen to how they should have just built a death ray, or how it's just a guy in a rubber suit.”

“It was a man in a rubber suit,” Genis grumbles. “And seriously, you have Reed Richards and all sorts of people who can build a canon that can kill a stupid radioactive lizard. The movie would have made much more sense if someone had actually suggested it.”

“Enjoy your ruined movies,” Rick mumbles.

Chapter Text

The scene which greets Heather when she enters is oddly domestic and oddly touching. Mar-vell reading to a captive audience. For a moment, she just wants to leave them to it and go away, but that barbed feeling of jealousy that is colouring her interactions so often recently makes her snap:  “Well, you're both awake.” Then she looks at Eros. “I still need to give you a check-up.”

He blushes and looks away, but after a moment, nods. He looks pale and determined now and she wonders if he is afraid of her. She feels Phyla’s glare and Mar-vell’s exasperation without looking at them and swallows the next barb on her tongue.

“Just sit down there. The computer will do all the readings,” Heather tells him.

Eros complies and sits down under her scrutiny. He looks uncomfortable, but he must bear it either now or later. She can’t coddle him, nor should she. He gets enough of this from Phyla anyway.

She inspects the readings, and nods to herself. “That went well. You are whole again, no more broken bones and damaged tissue.”

She waits for him to get up and- well what? He’s now bonded with Phyla. Will he want to stay and keep her company, making her some sort of a third wheel? With a sigh, she turns back to the console and resumes fussing over the computers.

Phyla brushes her hand against hers, and then gasps. And Heather senses- 

The way she eyes him is coolly professional, as if he is somebody she barely knows. He might prefer it that way, but he won’t escape.

He feels her scorn and for a moment wonders if it is because of Phyla, but that can’t be all. Even on Equivox, when Phyla was still healthy, she was like this to him. He considers asking her for the reason, but doesn’t dare. She will likely tell him because he is pathetic, an insult to the name Eternal. Heather, who is just human, is much more powerful than him. He never cared about that because power without purpose is nothing and never brought anyone peace.

When she does not continue to speak, he turns to watch her. She’s changed her garb, but the green suit still does nothing to conceal her physique and when he sees her operate the computer and watches the muscles in her back move, it brings back a memory he had almost forgotten.

And with it a shocking revelation. Does she think that when they were intimate, he had used his powers on her? Does she assume she is one of his victims and is her disdain and anger the result of that?

Beside Heather, Phyla jolts as she shares his epiphany.

There’s just one thing he can do and he moves off the diagnosis unit to drop to his knees. 

“Heather, I-“ Eros says, and she can sense where it is going. She doesn’t even need to reach out to feel the shame and self-loathing settle around him like a dark suffocating cloud.

“You never used your powers on me, and had you done that I would have noticed,” she says, trying to keep her tone cool. “Do you really think my defences are that feeble?”

She senses him flinch, and knows that her anger had seeped into her words, despite her efforts. She is not going to manage to keep it in.

“This is not why I am angry with you,” she says. The truth will not do much to help her maintain her dignity, but she cannot hide it. “I’m jealous. For the longest time, it was just me and Phyla—and now, she seems to have adopted you.”

There is no answer, but the black fog lifts somewhat to be replaced with utter confusion. Clearly, Eros had not expected to hear that.

Phyla is a different matter. Her anger shines through most of all. “You’re jealous? Because it’s not just me and you?”

“I didn’t mean to-“ Eros starts to say, but she doesn’t let him finish. His apologies will not help Phyla’s anger, nor are they necessary.

“I know I shouldn’t be. I know it’s not good for you to limit yourself to me and only me,” Moondragon says to her lover. “I don’t want you to lock yourself in a cage for me.” Then she looks at Eros, and continues, “And you are not taking her away from me, so don’t you dare to apologize for that. You owe me no apologies, Eros.”

She looks back at her readings. “Anyway. You are healed, but you need to replenish your energy stores. So, you still need to take care, and eat enough. You will not be up to much for a while.” Certainly not before Phyla is healed, since they are in essence, one body and Phyla is far from healthy and not making much progress in her recovery.

He is awkwardly getting up from his knees, stumbling, reaching for the diagnosis unit and almost falling because he changes hands at the last moment. Heather reaches out and takes his right hand to haul him up. He winces, trying to withdraw his fingers. It might be that he just expects it to still hurt, but somehow, she doesn’t think so.

“There’s still pain?”

He hesitates, and then nods. “I guess it’s psychological. I just expect it to hurt still.”

“We’ll see.” She makes another scan of his hand, but there is nothing. All healed, not even sore. Yet the response of his nerves is also real. “It’s phantom pain. You aren’t expecting it to hurt. It hurts. But you don’t have to avoid using it. It is probably better you do use the hand, before you get more trouble.”

Eros nods and sighs. “Sure.” She wants to say something else, offer some consolation, but there isn’t anything she can think off.

Phyla has no such problems. She reaches out to him, and grabs his hand. “You’re not leaving without a goodbye hug.”

Eros smiles at her and obliges. “Don’t strain yourself,” he says. “And I’ll leave now, so Heather can fuss about you to her heart’s delight.”

Heather rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment. She can see that he is too thin and too weak still. “Go and eat, and rest. Meditate some more if you can, but it might not be of much use.”

She still needs to talk with Phyla, who likely will want to share her mind.

Chapter Text

Phyla wants to do so. Or rather, she decides to be mature and pout. Crossing her arms in front of her chest as much as she can, she glares at Heather, who looks contrite and sheepish.

That’s when the humour of the situation hits her, and she starts to laugh. Ok, it’s more of a fit of very discrete giggles. “So, perfect, superhuman priestess of Titan is just as jealous as the rest of us peons?”

“No, the big bad dragon is jealous because her princess has a mighty sword and found herself an uncle-maiden to save,” Heather replies and shakes her head. “It is rather silly of me, isn’t it?”

“I’d say it’s very mortal of you”, Phyla say and holds out her hand. “I love you and nothing is going to change that.”

Heather takes her hand and smiles. “I love you.”

Phyla smiles back and kisses her knuckles. “I love you too.”

“You already said that.” Heather helps her to settle down, because she is getting tired again. “And you need rest. You aren’t getting better as quickly as you should.”

Maybe she should finally do as she is told and just lie still and wait to be better? So, she settles into the pillow and lets herself relax completely.

Heather sits down next to Phyla, her hand gently caressing her cheek. She's half asleep soon, her mind wandering idly over everything that had happened so far. Has it truly been a few days? It doesn't feel like it... The world has been turned upside down and she has learned things about herself that months of soul searching did not reveal. She reaches out and takes Heather's hand.

“What was your mother like?” she asks.

Heather gives her a puzzled look, before saying, “I guess... normal? I don't remember her all that well. Just bits and pieces—the way she'd wear her hair, how her cooking smelled, and that she'd scold me for trying to find out what happens to dolls when... hm, for stupid ideas.”

Phyla opens her eyes wider and gives Heather a surprised look. Hearing her admit to doing something silly or childish is more than just a surprise.

“You had stupid ideas? Ever?” she asks, though she is exaggerating somewhat for effect.

“That's what childhood and being a teenager is for,” Heather replies dryly. “At least in theory—one ought to get out all the stupid ideas then, before one can cause actual harm.”

Phyla frowns—it's not like she had ever actually been either. She remembers things, they seem real enough, but they never did happen. Does that count?

“That was meant to be a joke,” Heather says. “But I guess it's not particularly funny for you.”

“I guess I hadn't thought much about that,” Phyla answers. “I mean, so many other people on Titan were artificially aged into adulthood—so many Eternals have implanted memories of things that never happened... And you can't tell that's the case most of the time. Well, you can, but I can't.”

Heather falls silent for a while, and then says, “It's complicated. Manipulating minds on such a scale rarely ends well. Children, adults... The mind returns to its previous state eventually, or breaks. Implanting false memories is only close to permanent if it's done in a very early age, when the brain is in early stages of development—before any other memories are formed.” She pauses. “This was never one of my areas of interest, to tell the truth. I know that at least some Eternals on Titan lose their emotional connection to the implanted memories. Your mother did.”

"I couldn't care less what my mother has or has not,” Phyla states firmly.

Heather doesn't answer right away. Instead, she brushes her hand against Phyla's cheek gently. “I merely used her as an example. She's by far not the only Eternal who has no emotional connection with implanted memories.”

Phyla closes her eyes. “I don't really want to talk about her.”

It's not a lie—she doesn't feel like talking about Elysius now. She hears Heather take a deeper breath, as if getting ready to say something, but her lover only keeps caressing her face. Eventually, she drifts off to sleep again.

After some deliberation, Eros makes his way the to the kitchen and inspects the stores. What he finds in there is not making him feel hopeful – most of it seem to be various alien varieties of nutrient pastes. He sighs theatrically as he hears someone enter, hoping to ward off any questions about how he is feeling.

“Looking for something edible?” a human voice asks.

He turns and – after a moment of recollection – connects the voice and the face with a name.

“Rick Jones.”

“The one and only.”

Although he has aged quite a bit from the boy Eros knew before Mar-vell died, he has not lost the boyish look and charm, slightly awkward and yet endearing. When you don’t want to strangle him for being a nuisance. He can’t help but grin. Meeting Rick Jones is like meeting a part of a more innocent time – and he won’t have to be afraid of being awkward questions. Rick grins back and then, after a moment’s hesitation, steps forward and embraces him.

It’s a brotherly hug, with an arm’s length between them and the touch on his back more like a slap than a pat. Yet it speaks of an affection that surprises him, even as he returns it. When Rick Jones speaks, his voice has a choked quality. “Good to see you up and about.”

“Good to be up, believe me.”

He never knew Rick very well but recognised a kindred spirit in the art of denial and living on the surface.

Rick inspects the fridge and the freezer. “Doesn’t look all that inviting?”

“Not really”, Eros admits. “I was looking for something not horribly healthy and tasteless.”

Rick frowns, and then a grin spreads over his face. “Don’t move; I’ll be right back in a moment.”

And he is, carrying a steaming pizza covered in melted cheese, sausage slices and olives. He grins like an idiot. “Carol keeps junk food on her ship and she doesn’t mind sharing.”

Chapter Text

While Una had been quite curious to see the Eternal, who caused such a stir (and who apparently was also famous for being interesting company for women who did not care much about their reputation), she only accidentally stumbles on him and Rick Jones. They are sitting in the kitchen of the Titanian ship and eat some sort of rather disgusting earth food. It smells of dead things and processed components, hidden underneath a lot of spices and additives. But they are eating it with all apparent relish.

She eyes them sceptically. But given that the opportunity is there, she gives the Eternal a long, measuring look. He’s thin and pale, which probably comes from being comatose not too long ago. And his haircut looks like it should be outdated even on Earth. Then, Rick notices her watching them and decides to chime in.

“This is Una-Rogg,” Rick sighs. “She’s like a fungus and grows on you.”

The Eternal studies her for a moment. It doesn’t appear entirely unfriendly, but there is some caution in his gaze.

“I am Eros,” he says.

Una decides to pre-empt all awkward questions and says, “Yes, I’m Yon-Rogg’s daughter, and I am not going to carry on his grudge.”

“Grudges do tend to be quite unwieldy,” Eros says with a smile. “I’m told they often get in the way of much more amusing pursuits.”

“Or get one killed,” Una replies briskly. Almost involuntarily, she thinks of Zey—he proved that, didn’t he?

“Or cause harm to innocents,” Eros answers, much more serious now. It’s almost as if someone had flipped a switch and replaced him with another person. It certainly does not fit the image she had of him before.

It reminds her of her discussion with Genis, about her not being shallow. She tries to look beyond her expectation and see the person. It makes her shiver, because she wonders if Genis did see that within her, too.

Except the smell keeps distracting her from thinking deep stuff. She wrinkles her nose. “How anyone can stand that stench is beyond me.”

Rick laughs. “It’s awesome. Pepperoni pizza, food of the gods. Sort of.”

“It’s dead animal with animal bodily fluids and rotten stuff.”

The obnoxious human just keeps grinning. “Now you sound like Marv.”

“I would certainly hope that he has not completely succumbed to earth’s barbarian ways.”

Rick sighs. “Look, I get it. Kree are different. And superior.”

While she doesn’t care for his tone, it seems he finally got this. Una decides that talking from the door is stupid, so she braces herself and grabs a chair. “Breeding animals just to eat them is  wasteful and barbaric.” 

Rick still wonders at hearing this. He gets that Kree history went differently than human, but Kree in general just don’t appear the type to care about humane treatment of animals, given they don’t seem to advocate the humane treatment of humans, either, so he doubts that Una refers to all the sentimental PETA arguments about breeding livestock when she says barbaric.

“Technically, in advanced enough societies, you don’t have to breed livestock—cloning cells and growing only the meat you want to consume is one possibility,” Eros says. “Of course, you still need donors for the cells, and so on, and brining this to an industrial level takes time and resources. Xendar and the Skrull Empire had both been quite successful there.”

Una grimaces at the mention of the Skrull Empire, clearly ready to dismiss anything that comes from the Kree’s ancestral enemies as a bad idea.

He pauses, and thinks for a moment, then continues, “There are ways of getting around the high costs. The easiest way is introducing fish into hydroponics—the Shi’ar Empire employs this on almost all space stations that need to be self-sustainable.”

Una snorts.

“But first you need to develop science advanced enough that you can start getting around the costs,” Eros continues. “Which you will not be interested in, if you never bothered to tame animals for food.”

“Breeding plants in hydroponics is much easier,” she says with a shrug.

“The idea behind aquaponics is to breed both plants, and fish,” Eros replies. “The fish will provide nitrates and nitrites that are used as nutrients for the plants, while the plants filter the water, so that the fish remain healthy. You have a symbiotic relationship, like in a natural environment, and can spend the resources you’d use to produce the nutrients for the plants and the filters for the fish on something else.”

Rick wonders if he actually doesn’t remember the idea from some science fiction novel, but no. No, he heard Eros explain the very same concept to Mar-vell, he thinks.

“There are other sources of nutrients,” Una grinned, “but I think that is too technical.”

“Yes, yes, it is,” Rick whimpers, having recalled the conversation in its full glory now. Unlike Una, Marv had named the sources. “Can we just agree that humans are barbaric and wasteful, and move on?”

“I think he objects to the Eternals being called barbaric,” Una replies.

“Eternals do not breed animals for consumption. The environment on Titan is far too small and fragile to sustain such a use.” Eros shrugs. “But I spent enough time on Earth and other worlds to know that our way is not the only possible way.”

That very clearly feels like it’s meant for Rick, so he colours crimson. “But you did have an animal roasted on a spit at celebrations on Titan.”

Eros shrugs. “I didn’t say we don’t eat animals. We do buy meat from traders for special occasions and store it. But we certainly do not use animal bodily fluids – we can eat milk or cheese, but it isn’t advisable to do so before a date.”

“You make it sound like it’s not just milk that humans use,” he raises a protest. “It’s not that weird. We’re mammals and milk is healthy.”

“There are some human cultures that also use blood,” Eros informs him. “That’s why blood sausages are called blood sausages. As for milk—actually, most of humanity is lactose intolerant and cannot consume it once they are weaned. It’s simply that you come from the part that sees consuming milk and dairy products are normal. It’s definitely not the oddest thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Wait. Blood? You’re telling me they actually drink blood?” Una asks her expression disbelieving.

“No, they make sausages from it or use it in making other dishes.” Eros shrugs. “If you do kill an animal, you do not want anything go to waste, at least, if you really require this for sustenance. Or lack resources anyway.”

Rick feels a headache coming. “You make humans sound like monsters.” After all, requiring it or using every part of an animal is not really things that come to mind if he thinks of an American supermarket.

Una pats his shoulder. “No, just primitive. You will grow out of it eventually. I’m sure.”

Which sounds about as condescending as it gets.

“The Shi’ar actually also have dishes made of blood,” Eros informs them. “There’s a planet which—by complete accident—shares the custom present in some countries on Earth of serving a soup made of blood to a suitor that is seen as unsuitable.” He pauses, and then adds, “It’s quite tasty, actually. I never understood why anyone would go through all the bother of preparing a nice meal just to insult someone.”

“The Shi’ar also suffer from berserker rages,” Una points out.

“Which is actually a good point,” Eros concedes. “In many cultures, the consumption of meat is intrinsically tied to the perception of virility and martial prowess or aggression and males can get very defensive if it is suggested to them to forego it.”

“You are a dude, too,” Rick points out.

Eros smiles, which is at the same time dazzling and obnoxious. “But I do not believe my masculinity can be threatened so easily.”

It doesn’t help that Una is overcome by a fit of giggles at this point. Rick decides that shutting up might be the most prudent course of action, least he proves that his masculinity is that easily threatened.

Chapter Text

Fixer is monitoring everything. The Star of Vengeance not only houses city-sized computers and communications systems but also state of the art listening devices and frequency scanners. Even communications via gravimetric pulses can be followed.

He doesn’t understand Kree, but his translation algorithms would make him rich if he was actually motivated by money. They are fast enough to ruin all job prospects for future translators and make less mistakes. So, the language barrier doesn’t matter and machine language is a universal constant anyway.

It’s not that he is listening to every soldier on board of the Star to call their moms and sweethearts to tell them they are OK – he is not letting any of that through, sorry, Kree Moms - or that he is exploring whatever pornsites officers visit here. OK, he did. For half an hour, which was as long as it took him to find out a) Kree porn is as stupid as human porn and b) Skrull porn is even more popular among the navy.

He is scanning for various trigger words, like somebody trying to call for help or their ship being mentioned… Or anything suspicious. The Star is part of the big web of the Kree navy, so even if the Kree learned of it being highjacked and try to cut it out of communications, it’s not actually possible. In a web this complex and n-dimensional, you can’t just delete one email address from the mailing list.

So, he knows far more about what the Kree are up to than they can probably guess. Most of it is boring as hell. Patrol schedules, minor scuffles with Skrulls and other aggressive peoples at their borders, the occasional man-hunt after a defecting ship.

He amuses himself with building a four dimensional map of space and plotting the courses of every vessel in the fleet – while also solving all sudokus in the New York Times published in the last year. The map soon is about as predictable as the numbers. Over the time of their stay on Equivox, he begins to forecast where which craft will give its position again in the next few minutes, then hours, then days. His accuracy is almost 100%...

Which is why he feels annoyed when it suddenly drops. 97%. 92%. 87%. This is not a statistical fluke. Ships leave their routes and move along different ship lanes. He alters his predictions along the new trajectories.

“Oh shit.”

Fixer looks concerned as he draws away from the computer. He waves Bucky over, and points to what appears to be a hologram of a billion squiggly colourful lines in a 3D sphere. Before Bucky can ask for an explanation, Fixer adjusts something and suddenly red lines are highlighted and converge on several points.

“Warships leaving their normal deployment schedules,” Norbert explains.

“They’re planning something,” Bucky muses out loud, “this looks like they are massing in some staging grounds.”

“But what for?” Fixer asks. “I checked those places and there’s absolutely nothing there.”

“Nothing good, I’d bet,” Bucky answers. “I suppose some invasion is likely. Maybe those places connect to hyperlanes? Do you have anything more specific?”

Fixer shakes his head. “No. I’m observing the ships moving, but there were no official orders or messages. Going by the pattern, they get contacted by courier ship and then leave their home sectors.”

“Keep an eye on the situation,” Bucky says. “I want to know what they’re up to. And I will tell Captain Marvel this is a thing that’s happening now.”

“Aye, aye,” Fixer replies and does a nonchalant approximation of a salute.

“I was a soldier,” Bucky points out. “It’s ‘Yes, sir’.”

Fixer pretends not to hear. 

Carol turns off the screen a moment after Bucky disappears from it. To the surprise of everyone involved, it seems that for now things are going as planned. The Thunderbolts estimate that they will be busy for two more days on Equivox and then be able to leave. That gives them some more time to decide what to do next.

Well, there is the tiny bitty issue of the Kree mustering for something, which rarely is a good thing for anyone.

“What do you think?” Carol asks. Mar-Vell frowns, as he looks into the black monitor.

“They’d be redirecting troops already, if it was unrest in one of the provinces,” he says. “If I were to guess, I’d say that someone decided that with the Skrull Empire gone, it’s time to grab some more of their territory. This doesn’t look like the size of an army that you’d send to war with the Shi’ar.”

Carol nods. It’s speculation of course, but it’s the best they have at the moment. “I guess until we have any more information, we should just carry on wrapping up things here. There’s nothing we can do on speculation.”

“That’s true,” Mar-Vell says and then adds, “We will need to ask Eros, Heather and Phyla if they want to come with us.”

Carol nods. “I guess Eros will want to stay with them until Phyla is healed and they can sever the bond.”

“I would assume so,” Mar-vell says. “But she and Heather may have their own plans. That I’d prefer her to spend some more time with Genis, so I’m sure they’re actually getting along, doesn’t really mean they will do that.”

“I don’t know if I’m qualified to comment,” Carol replies and sighs. She is starting to feel out of her depth. As if she was in any way competent to give advice on family matters. She hadn’t talked to her birth family in the last few years. “I’m not exactly on speaking terms with my brother.”

“I’m sorry,” Mar-vell says and pulls her closer.

“It’s okay,” Carol replies. “But thank you.” She cuddles to him and soaks up the warmth. “But hey, your kids appear to want to get along with each other, so there’s that.”

“Do you think that will be enough? Will they be able to solve their problems on their own?” Mar-vell looks worried. “They have both been through so much and their history together is quite violent.”

“No, it’s not enough, but it’s a start,” Carol says. “Your children are both getting better. They should be able to at least peacefully talk about where they stand and if they need help getting further, there are people who can help them.”

Mar-vell gives her a wry smile. “We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? As long as you’re alive, you can get better.”

“And now, both of them have you,” Carol adds. Then something occurs to her. “Don’t you know if it will be alright? Can’t you just see it?”

Mar-vell snorts. “I wish. Cosmic Awareness isn’t omniscience. I can see facts; I can look and see what they are doing right now. But I can’t really see the future; I just see possibilities and their likelihood, which can vary wildly from one second to the next.” With a shrug he continues. “For example, when Heather and Phyla left for Equivox, I had tried to see if Eros was in danger and I saw nothing of what actually happened. I didn’t know he was going to be wounded mortally.”

“Nobody has all the answers to everything,” Carol tries to point out. “Look at Mentor. He is supposed to be wise and he’s ancient and yet, he still couldn’t prevent all those horrible things from happening and probably facilitated quite a bit of it. I mean, he did send his son to gain forgiveness for an action that probably carries the death penalty on a number of worlds.”

“I wish I knew what Mentor had been thinking,” Mar-vell agrees with a sigh. “It’s all so… He couldn’t have not realized that what he demanded of Eros was going to be horribly dangerous.” He rests his head on Carol’s shoulder. “Or look at Genis; how come he didn’t think of training him better.”

“I don’t know,” Carol says. She had never even seen the old Eternal up close, let alone spoke to him. “You could ask him when we get back.”

Mar-vell nods. “Mentor loved me. Like a son. Maybe more than his own sons, now that I look back. That I felt I could find a home one Titan that was his doing, before I even met Elysius. So… I can’t just discard him. I need to know why he did those things. Why he was so blind.”

“Then we can do that.” Carol rests her head on his shoulder. “But maybe we should warn him before?”

Chapter Text

Genis looks at the Pandemic board with a frown. “Why did we think that playing it with only two people was a good idea?”

Melissa rolls over onto her back. “We were bored and we didn’t take any other games.” She stretches her arms out. “I think I might have some ooooold games that don’t need internet on my laptop, which Abe and Norbert said I should absolutely play, if you want to try.”

“Why didn’t you play them?” Genis asks.

Melissa shrugs. “They both like difficult games and I don’t really have that much free time. But you could practice with your Cosmic Awareness, maybe?”

Genis considers this. “Well, it worked with the game on Carol’s phone, so I guess I could give it a try at some point. But you’d still have nothing to do.”

“I could learn or watch you play,” she points out. “Or I could read something.”

“Or we could see if any of them can be played by two people,” Genis says, as he powers on Melissa’s laptop. She rolls over to him and peers at the screen.

“I think Abe wrote some notes about them,” she says. “It’s probably in My Documents.”

Genis eventually does locate the creatively named “OldieGames” file and after some skimming picks one of the games, which has some sort of a co-op mode.

“Heroes of Power and Sorcery? That one’s a strategic game,” Melissa says. “Hm, we probably still could use some notes on units and such.”

Genis almost checks with his Cosmic Awareness, but reconsiders. “It’s old right? So, maybe Carol played it?”

“Let’s ask her,” Melissa says. “Just maybe let’s phrase it differently.” 

Eon likely did not intend for him to use Cosmic Awareness to find out how to best play a game, but then Mar-vell doesn’t really see the harm in doing it. Especially, since Carol doesn’t remember the game very well.

“I think we’d need to have a lot of most units and wait ages for black dragons,” she says. “Let’s try a different town.”

“We could try the undead,” Mar-vell says after a moment. “Or the ones with gold dragons. But the one’s Melissa wanted to go with should also do pretty decent.”

“What about the ones with the angels and the devils?” Genis asks.

“It’s cheating according to Abe,” Melissa says.

“He’s not here,” Genis points out. “And this is the first time we’re playing it—so why not pick the one’s it’s easiest to win with so we can learn?”

“When you put it like this…” Melissa giggles and picks the first town.

“Besides, I think you said I could train—that probably counts as cheating too,” Genis adds.

“No using Cosmic Awareness when we’re playing against each other,” Carol says firmly. “You can practice all you want against the computer, your sister or your father.”

Genis gives her surprised look, then nods. “Um, yeah, I guess that’d be unfair.”

Meanwhile, Mar-vell had managed to select what looked to him to be a balanced combination of towns. For them.

“You picked the weakest towns for the computer,” Melissa observes.

“We’re learning how to play,” he says solemnly. “No reason to end the game too quickly.” 

The game is more complicated than Genis thought, and he’s not exactly sure he will know how to play it on his own. Although, it seems that at least his father is of the opinion that using Cosmic Awareness to find out is a perfectly legitimate use of it.

Somehow, even Rick had not managed to inform Genis about that.

For now, he has lost his town, and so he can only watch. A few turns later, Mar-vell is also out of the game, and it looks like Carol is going to follow suit soon.

“Can I ask you something?” Mar-vell asks. Genis nods, half-confused and half-anxious. Somehow, people rarely ask that question if they want to ask about something that is not upsetting.

Mar-vell takes a moment, before speaking again. “I intend to have a long talk with Mentor. There are questions I need to ask him—but before I do it, I will need to know if you don’t want me to mention you at all, or if you’d rather someone told Mentor that you are alive.”

Genis shrugs. The old Titan had always been something of a distant authority figure, who maybe occasionally deigns to dispense wisdom about the necessity of wearing hats in winter. “I don’t mind if he knows.”

“Do you want me to ask him not to tell your mother?” Mar-vell says.

Genis’s brain stops in its tracks for a moment. His first instinct is that he doesn’t want her to know anything. Then, he feels guilty, because why does he need this to the list of ways in which he had disappointed her? And then Melissa takes his hand and he stops himself—this is exactly why he doesn’t want to go to Titan. Because he actually expects his mother to be disappointed with him for being alive.

Except, there’s really nothing he can do about her reactions. And if he does need to go to Titan one day, it will probably be easier if he doesn’t have to deal with being accused of lying and everything on top of all the other stuff.

“No,” Genis says. “He can tell her, or you can, if you will be speaking with her, but then can you also ask him to tell her that I don’t want to see her?”  

Mar-vell nods. “I will.” He seems somewhat relieved about this decision and Genis hugs his father tightly. After this topic, he needs some physical reassurance and his father provides it without hesitation.

And then Chewie feels neglected and jumps up on the keyboard of Melissa’s computer and she squeaks. “I didn’t save the game yet!”

Chapter Text

The first thing Phyla sees when she wakes up is Heather floating in the air and meditating. Then, her lover opens her eyes, and gracefully lands on the ground.

“How are you feeling?” Heather asks her.

“Like someone spat me out,” Phyla says, and notes with some amusement that Heather does exercise her tact and does not mention why she feels like that.

Heather smiles. “You should stop being such a handful and just lie down and concentrate on getting well.”

Phyla decides to be immature and pouts. “That’s taking forever.”

Heather frowns, before taking the hand with the negaband on her wrist. “Well… That remains to be seen. I remember that Mar-vell and Rick Jones could help each other heal when they were bonded. Perhaps Eros could help you? Just where is he anyway?”

Phyla shrugs. “He’s taking a walk.”

Heather looks impatient. “Well, tell him to come back.”

She could, but just as she thinks it, she feels a jolt of guilt from Eros and sends him reassurance. She doesn’t want to begrudge him a moment of calm, after everything he endured. “No, not doing that. You can go and play jailer, if you object to people taking time off.”

“I do not enjoy reminding people of their duties,” Heather replies calmly. “I just think your health has the highest priority right now.”

“Heather, Eros doesn’t have to stay by my side all the time,” Phyla sighs. “I already have him in my head. And it won’t harm me in any way that he takes a walk and gets fresh and maybe talks a bit to the cotati. Let him. He deserves a bit of quiet.”

Heather looks like she intends to fight her for a moment, but seems to reconsider. “Will you at least talk with him later?”

“Sure,” she says, glad they’ve reached some sort of a compromise. “I’ll do that when he’s back.” 

Heather is wondering if she should go and remind Eros anyway, but before she can decide, she notices that both Captains Marvel coming towards her ship and looking equally serious. They enter and then, instead of a greeting Carol says in a business-like tone: “We will need to visit Titan.”

“And speak with Mentor,” Mar-vell adds.

“I don’t think Phyla will want that,” Heather replies, her tone thoughtful. “She has been pretty adamant about not wanting to speak with Elysius ever again so far.”

Mar-vell shakes his head. “I need to speak with Mentor.”

Which sounds very final. But then, this had been coming, hasn't it? This and one other thing—even if Phyla does not want to ever see her mother again, she doubts Mar-vell will leave what happened after he died at that.

“And I will be there for moral support,” Carol says. “But somebody should probably warn him that we are coming.”

Heather nods slowly. “I see.” She gives them a cool measuring look. “This will not be just about Genis and Phyla, will it?”

“No,” Mar-vell says. “I will find out how he could…” He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm. “How he did not see so many things. It’s not like him.”

Heather is silent, as she considers it all. There are matters that need to be addressed, that is undeniable. They are troubling—troubling because she had not seen them, and that points to the issue lying in something on Titan, something that is intrinsic, that you learn as a child and internalize. She is too close to see what it is.

“Do you want to me to do the call Mentor on my own, or will you want to speak with him as well?” she asks.

Mar-vell doesn’t answer right away. He takes a moment to think, before saying, “I will speak with him too.”

Chapter Text

Mentor is still far from having found his equilibrium, when the next communication from Heather comes. He is too old for that kind of emotional upheaval—believing his son will be trapped in his own mind, unless Mentor finds some way to lure him out, only to learn that a mere child knew what to do moments later. That this was not the only news—that Mar-vell was back only made him feel even more off balance.

And now, more news, news he had not expected and cannot guess what it will be.

Heather is not alone this time—at her side, there is Mar-vell; healthy again, the years suffering added partly smoothed from his face gain, his hair shorter than he remembers. His expression is one of grim determination. Beside him, there is a woman—another Kree? No, she is one of the Avengers, is she not?

“How is Eros doing?” he asks.

There is a flash of something that passes over Mar-vell’s face, but it’s too short for Mentor to know what it is.

“Physically better,” Heather replies.

“This is not a conversation we should be having over comm,” Mar-vell says. “I will come to Titan.”

The statement takes him aback—he had been certain they would not come. “I have not informed Elysius that you or Phyla are back,” he says. “Should I call-“

“No,” Mar-vell says, and the coldness in his voice is… No, it’s not the coldness that surprises Mentor; it’s the fact that he had expected it. The Avenger—Ms Marvel, wasn’t it?—places her hand on his shoulder. A part of his mind that is not focused on the situation at hand, starts connecting dots now—the gesture, the name, and the woman’s features, which could be both human or Kree—is she a relative of Mar-vell’s? “Don’t get her. But tell her that I am alive and that we need to talk.”

 “Is there anything else you’d like to me to tell her?” Mentor says.

Mar-vell nods. “Yes.” He takes a deep breath. “Genis is alive. You will need to inform her of this, and also that he does not want to see her.”

Mentor expects to feel shock and is surprised when he does not. His last impression of Genis was that he had transcended physicality and thus probably mortality. Did the Thunderbolts lie about his death or were they just mistaken? But that is not an important question.

And neither is he surprised that Genis does not want to come back. After Phyla disowned her mother, he wouldn’t have expected her son to do different. For a moment the sense of failure is overwhelming – all their children have left and never want to return. Where did they go so wrong?

He nods. “I will do as you ask.”

“Mentor…” Heather looks stunned, but he can’t take her pity now, so he breaks the connection.

“ISAAC… Where did we go so wrong?” 

There is no use in putting it off. Mentor goes to find Elysius, who is sitting in her favourite spot on the fallen tree overlooking the sunset valley. “Don’t rise,” Mentor tells Elysius, as she turns at his approach. In the fragile light of the dying sun her cheeks glisten with moisture. He marvels at her beauty, reminded of something his heart wants to forget. “I have news for you.”

She nods, her expression tightens, the jaw muscles standing out under her skin. The resemblance is dispelled. “What is it?”

It was never going to be an easy conversation—no matter what else, she will find out that the man loved above all else is back and so is her son. And that the child she had sacrificed so much for—its whole childhood—does not want to see her.

Mentor sits down beside her. It had been millennia since he was young enough to have these kinds of conversations standing.

“Firstly, it appears that the news of Genis’s death has been exaggerated,” he says. “He is well, it appears, but will not be returning to Titan. I do not know his plans for the nearest future.”

However, trying to put the gentlest spin on it seems to fail. Elysius flinches first and then her expression grows cold. “Thank you. I’m sure he will change his mind once he’s in trouble he can recognize.” Now her face is like stone, once more resembling the simulacrum ISAAC animated. He almost feels repulsed, until he sees the dark black feelings in her eyes. He can’t read them, but they give her life once again.

“I’m sure he will reconsider,” Mentor says and puts his hand on her arm.

“Is that all?” Elysius asks, as she starts to rise, shaking off his comfort.

“No. Mar-vell is alive. I don’t know why he is in the Kree Empire, but as far as I know, Genis was with him when Eros-“ He doesn’t finish.

Elysius’s expression falls as quickly as it had lit up at the mention of Mar-vell. She drops down on the tree trunk again, tears spilling from her eyes again. “What will he think of me?”

“You will have to ask him, when he is on Titan,” Mentor says. “He said he needs to talk with you.”

“Only speak with me?” she asks, and a pleading note creeps into her voice. “But I did it all for him…”

Mentor feels so very ancient, when he looks at her. So young. And suddenly so lost and vulnerable. So unsure of herself. “Pedestals are cold, narrow places, child. Those we put on them often come to resent us for it. Or they run away.” He puts a hand on hers in a gesture of comfort. “I will leave you to gather your thoughts, and then we can talk about what you want to do and say to Mar-Vell.”

He rises then, and leaves her alone. She needs time now, not an old man who has his own demons to run away from.

Chapter Text

Feeling like she finally needs to blow off some steam after all the revolting developments of the last few hours, Heather heads for her training room. Both Captains Marvel asked to borrow it, but they should be done training by now. Except the room is still locked. Which is not a problem, she has the master’s override. What is the problem is the reason why it was locked in the first place.

“Are you two trying to prove something?” Heather asks irritably, as she enters, since the room is not being used for its intended purpose at all.

“I think we're too old for that,” the current Captain Marvel replies, as Mar-vell helps her up from the mat.

Heather sighs heavily, and in case anyone didn't notice she is exasperated, rolls her eyes. It doesn't have the desired effect, and only makes Carol Danvers roll her eyes, while Mar-vell studies Heather for a while. 

“Might I suggest using a bed, next time?” Heather says.

“The door was locked,” Mar-vell replies flatly.

“It could have been malfunctioning,” Heather answers, crossing her arms over her chest.

That earns her two equally unamused looks. Have they been practicing that? She almost tells them it’s her training room and that they should just find their own, but it will only sound petulant.

“Fine, I will leave,” she says and retreats. She nearly tells them to make sure that they don’t end up with producing more part-Kree, and then something else occurs to her. She stops and turns around, “Did you know you have a child with a Skrull? Because if not, I can tell Phyla.”

“I do know,” Mar-vell replies. “And I can inform her on my own without employing your tact.”

Heather just shakes her head. Men. And they say women are emotional. 

Melissa decides that she is satisfied with her progress as she checks her score on the test. It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely good. She turns to Genis who is apparently cosmically cheating in another computer game. Just as she is about to ask how it’s going, someone knocks on the door.

Genis flickers back to normal and gets up to answer. The door hisses open to reveal Mar-vell. As usual, he looks serious, but Melissa thinks that this is serious-worried instead of just serious-neutral.

“So… what’s the bad news?” Genis asks.

“I sincerely hope it’s not bad,” Mar-vell replies.

“So, what is it?” Genis asks, as he moves to the side so that Mar-vell can enter.

Then, to Melissa’s surprise, Mar-vell actually turns red. “During the Kree-Skrull War… I met their Princess.” He hesitates, seemingly unsure how to continue.

And that’s when she connects the dots, and before she can think better she says, “Oh, it’s about Hulkling!”

“Who?” both Mar-vell and Genis ask.

“Oh, maybe you don’t know after all,” she says. “There’s a fairly young superhero, who is apparently your son and part Skrull.”

“You know, I’m surprised that there aren’t more Skrull-Kree hybrids,” Genis says, apparently completely unruffled by the news. “Since neither Kree nor Skrulls teach that Skrulls are viable with basically anyone.” Then, it seems his mouth catches on with his brain, since he adds, “I’m sorry. You were trying to say something.”

“I wanted to tell you about your half-brother.” Mar-vell smiles at Genis, looking a bit relieved. “I was afraid you might mind.”

“I think he might mind being my brother rather than the other way around,” Genis replies. “Or… um… not? Maybe?”

Both Melissa and Mar-Vell look at him and shake their heads in unison, which makes him smile. “Absolutely not.”

It’s raining. Karla makes a grumpy face and puts a shield over her head. Jolt grins. “It’s a good thing it’s raining here. It means the transmitter stations we rigged here are working properly and rerouting clouds.” Trust the older woman to take every sort of discomfort as a personal affront.

“It could have started after we are gone. This rain smells of pee.”

“That’s because it’s also used to fertilize the crops”, Norbert’s voice speaks from their earpieces. “Now, two more stations, and you are done.”

“You said that five stations ago.”

Which he did, so Jolt sticks out her tongue. “Probably to spare himself your whining.”

“I can count.” Karla lifts off again. “Let’s get this over with and stop insulting my intelligence.”

“He wouldn’t, if you were not behaving like the universe is out to get you”, Jolt comments, before transforming into her living lightning shape and following. She’s soaked to the skin, but she likes the feeling. Even though the rain does smell of pee. Human pee, so the Kree might not object that much.

Given Karla’s splendid mood, Jolt tries for a subject that will distract her.

“Norbert seems to be in a good mood lately,” she says eventually. It’s not exactly what she noticed, but she figures that either Karla noticed, and it that case she’s deliberately not acting, or she didn’t, and in that case will get defensive, if someone points it out too bluntly.

“Well, he has an entire planet full of alien technology to play with. Awakens the inner kid.” Moonstone shrugs.

“I don’t think it’s just that,” Jolt says. It’s not like Karla to be this clueless—unless she doesn’t want to notice.

“So what do you think, oh fountain of wisdom?” Karla clearly doesn’t want to have a clue.

“I think he teases you a lot more than me or anyone else,” Jolt says.

“Fixer is not interested in anything that doesn’t have circuits. You are imagining things.”

Hallie may not be an expert, but that sounds very defensive. “He told me you kissed him.”

Karla watches Hallie for a moment, her expression frozen. Then, she says, “He remembers?”

“Apparently?” Hallie hides a smirk. This wasn’t exactly an intelligent question, so possibly Karla isn’t all that superior about this. Possibly. Or maybe it’s just surprise.

“I hadn’t realized,” Karla says blinking. She seems really taken aback by it. She does appear to compose herself fairly quickly though. “He seems to be handling it well.”

“Mostly, yes,” Hallie agrees. Then, she adds, “He seems to have trouble sleeping though. Maybe you could talk to him about it?”

“Yes, of course,” Karla says. “I’m the logical person, given that I’m a psychologist.”

Hallie nods. She doesn’t think she needs to insist that Karla has another reason. And if the excuse lets her speak with Norbert earlier, then all the better.

Chapter Text

Since coming clean with Genis went so well that leaves him only with telling Phyla, who might have very different feelings about the whole thing. As easily as his interactions with Genis have developed, his relationship with Phyla is turning into a minefield. Maybe he should wait for the right moment to tell her… Except, the problem with waiting for the right moment, is that there never is one in Mar-vell’s experience. Or someone decides they have a better idea when it's going to be, and do it for you. Which, given who threatened to do so, he decides not to risk.

At least he knows that Genis doesn’t mind. Then again, he has a suspicion that the threshold of things Genis would not mind is rather high.

“You have a half-brother,” he says, once he's done making sure Phyla is feeling fine. Which she isn't, but she is feeling good enough for that kind of news.

“Oh,” Phyla says. “Does mother know?”

Mar-vell shakes his head. “I only found out about him shortly before I died.” He briefly explains about Anelle, and that he assumed that Kree and Skrulls were not capable of cross-breeding. Which was quite obviously not the case.

And which apparently is common knowledge on Titan.

“So, wait, you knew before you died and you didn’t tell her? Why?” Despite Phyla’s problems with her mother, she actually looks rather upset on her mother’s behalf.

Well, he did want her to see him as a living mortal being, not a perfect saint, did he? So, not being coy about admitting doing things for not exactly altruistic reasons should help. He shouldn’t feel all that embarrassed about it. Still, nobody likes to do this. For a moment, he wishes Carol were here, except he told her not to come. “I didn’t tell her because I didn’t feel strong enough to deal with the consequences of it. Elysius might have been hurt, even though I was with Anelle before I ever knew her. Mentor might have insisted on finding the child, but what good could come from him being introduced to a father only to watch him die? I…”

For a moment, there is a look of shrewd calculation on her face that seems off-putting. Then her expression softens, and she takes his hand. “It’s OK. Forget that I asked.”

“I didn’t want to be alone.” He has not admitted it to anyone before this point, not even to himself.

When Phyla puts her other hand on his shoulder and draws herself up so she can embrace him, he is too surprised to stop her. “It’s OK.” 

Melissa finds Rick and Una safe in the kitchen, playing Pandemic. They seem to be quite engrossed, and when she peeks at the marker, it turns out that the game is winning.

“I see that you didn’t run into any space grues,” she says, because apparently the game is now stuck in her head for some reason. She didn’t even manage to finish it without Abe’s help.

“What are space grues?” Una asks, puzzled.

“Played Zork, have you?” Rick chuckles. “Regular grues are a kind of a monster from a game. Nobody knows what they look like—they just eat you if you stay in the dark in the game. A space grue would be a grue that lives in space.”

Una looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “Ah, so you invented vortex crems without knowing about them.”

Rick stares at her. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Maybe,” Una replies with a grin. “Do you think something like this is likely to exist?”

“I’ve seen enough to know that anything can exist somewhere,” Rick says. “I’m pretty sure.”

Heather is quite alarmed at first, when she hears Phyla call for her, especially since she sounds quite distressed. Fortunately, she does find out that nothing threatening has invaded the medbay before she gets there, otherwise she might have ended up doing something stupid.

The crisis seems to be averted, by the time she enters, although she has to bite her tongue to stop herself from telling Phyla off for sitting again.

+I didn’t know what else I could do,+ Phyla sends.

+Like I’m the expert,+ Heather answers. Then, out loud, she adds, “I think it’s time for Phy to take a nap.”

She chides herself for not thinking of something smarter, but to tell the truth nothing else comes to her mind. It’s likely more of a testament to how out of sorts Mar-vell is, then Heather’s brilliant distraction skills that the Kree goes, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll let you rest.”

He doesn’t do anything else though, given that Phyla is still holding him. And glaring at Heather. Somehow, everything was getting more and more complicated lately by the day. 

Carol is starting to feel in agreement with Mar-vell where telepathic contacts are concerned, when Heather suddenly shows up in her head. +You might want to come to the medbay and pick up your boyfriend. He’s upset.+

Upset does not sound like Mar-vell at all. +Upset? What did you do?+

Despite having no practise with this kind of communication, Carol can feel Heather is uncomfortable. +I did nothing. He went and told Phyla about his Skrull son. Given how much he hates it, I didn’t eavesdrop.+

+You didn’t eavesdrop because he would spot you, not out of concern.+

+Just come, will you?+ So apparently that got a little too close to the truth. Still, Carol can’t really imagine why Mar-vell would be upset in a conversation about Hulkling, so she starts to hurry.

Chapter Text

This time around, Carol starts with getting hot chocolate. She isn’t sure what is comfort food for Kree (or if they have it) but her suspicion is that is something like cocoa or hot chocolate. Or it’s just Mar-vell who has a weakness to it.

Then, they relocate to her room, which can be locked and there will be no people walking in and derailing conversations.

“I think I should expect the difficult questions,” Mar-vell sighs. “Except that Phyla keeps finding ones I’d rather not answer even to myself.” He looks at the chocolate for a while, and then adds. “I told her about Anelle’s son, and she wanted to know if Elysius knew.”

“That would require you to know about him before you died,” Carol points out. Though, given the lead up, she suspects he did know.

“Anelle sent me a letter, when it was pretty much clear I am going to die, and it will be soon,” he says.

“You must have been surprised,” Carol says.

Mar-Vell nods. “They don’t teach you in the academy that Kree and Skrulls are compatible that way.”

He sounds wry and almost like himself again, so Carol cocks her head to the side and asks, “That would imply you did something where knowledge like that would have been useful.”

That earns her a rather wan smile. “How else would we have a child?”

“They could have just taken your genetic material, just like Elysius did with Genis and Phyla,” Carol replied. “I wasn’t sure you even met her.”

“I did,” Mar-Vell replies. “When I, Wanda and Pietro were captives, and her father was trying to force me to build the omni-wave projector.”

"And you slept with the Emperors daughter while you were his prisoner?" Carol asks.

“I didn’t do it to escape,” Mar-Vell replies, “if that’s what you’re asking. I wouldn’t have left Wanda and Pietro.”

Carol kisses him and wraps her arms around him. “That’s not why I asked.” She isn’t sure what else to say. Does she have the right to tell him he ought to be upset about this? That what Anelle did, given the situation, was little better than sleeping with him at gunpoint? If he doesn’t feel like that, should she make him more upset about it all than he already is? So, she settles for “She shouldn’t have done that. It was not fair to you.”

“She knew that, or at least figured it out later”, Mar-Vell muses. “She apologised.” He slowly relaxes into her arms and she keeps rubbing his back.

Carol decides to leave the subject alone—this is probably something above her paygrade anyway. She can ask Sue to talk with Mar-Vell about it later (along with the million other things that need to be talked about with someone who doesn’t start wishing problems had bodies and she could punch them in the face). This is not the right time to bring it up, given that he’s already upset about something.

She figures she might as well switch subjects, and go back to discussing Teddy. “Anyhow, that was a hell of a case of bad timing,” Carol says. “Hulkling would have been walking and talking by then. She didn’t have to wait that long.”

“It might have been the first opportunity she had to communicate with Earth,” Mar-vell answers after a moment of silence.

Carol doesn’t feel convinced at all, but keeps her silence. “So, you knew and did not tell anyone.”

“No.”

He looks so despondent, she can’t bring herself to ask any questions, just wraps her arms around him. ‘Upset’? Heather’s judgement is not what it was.

After a while, Mar-vell starts talking again. “I was afraid. Afraid Elysius might leave me if she learns. Afraid of facing this child – I had seen Rick’s reaction to the news and I did not want to do it to a much more vulnerable person. I did not feel strong enough to deal with all of this. To put up a face of strength when faced with emotions even more intense.”

That’s when Carol realises that trauma doesn’t have to be violent and flashbacks don’t need to contain fire and explosions. “It’s alright. You are not alone. I will not leave you. I’m here.” She holds him close and strokes his back. “Hold onto me.”

It’s one of those moments when Carol dearly wishes she knew who made the universe and made it such a mess, because then she could kick them somewhere where it hurts. 

Norbert is sitting in front of the viewport deep in thought. The odd patterns have stopped – the ships that were redirected having returned to their patrols. This makes even less sense than them staging for something. He is running scenarios in his head when someone coughs behind him. He turns around to find Karla behind him, holding two mugs. Belatedly, he realizes he smells coffee. She hands him a mug and Norbert accepts it. Who is he to say no to unexpected coffee?

It seems that this is an invitation, since Karla floats up and crosses her legs, so now she is sitting in mid-air.

“How comfortable is that exactly?” he asks.

“Somewhat less comfortable than a chair, but it’ll do,” she answers.

“We do have more than one chair?” He takes a sip of the coffee and runs the next detection routine for alien viruses in their system, while at the same time monitoring the weather patterns of the planet and the reactor output of the Star of Vengeance.

“Yes,” Karla agrees, although her voice is somewhat… cooler? “I don’t feel like getting one.”

“Hey, I’m not going to fetch chairs for you either,” Norbert protests.

“So, what are you doing here? When can we leave this miserable, pee-smelling mudball?”

“Hopefully in a few hours,” Norbert says. And once they are rid of this ship and the whole mess, the Kree can keep their riddles and get fucked. “And I’m sure it has some pluses. Very well-hidden ones.”

Karla rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s too late to go discovering those, if you intended to invite anyone.”

He snorts. “I’m busy. I don’t think this deal of ours includes dinner invitations in local restaurants.” He did understand her quite well, but somehow the entire idea of inviting Karla to dinner seems… alien. There’s probably enough of pudgy old Paul inside him that he just doesn’t think inviting women – especially blonde bombshells with acid tongues – is something he could do.

Even if said bombshell in question kissed him once.

“Oh for-“ Karla groans. Then she uncurls her legs and floats closer. Norbert doesn’t really have time to react, because suddenly her hands are on his cheeks and her mouth is against his, and this is definitely as much of a surprise as the first time.

Once she let him go, and he remembered having lungs, he tries to say something that makes sense. “Oh…” Ok, next try. “You kissed me.” Way to go.

“You noticed.” Karla seems more amused than offended, because she lands and hooks her arm around his. “Let’s go somewhere more private, so you can gather your thoughts.”

She doesn’t even bother not sounding smug.

And he’s still too confused and excited and also petrified to mind.

Chapter Text

Phyla is clearly rattled. This is the first thing Eros notices as he enters the medbay. She’s looking at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fists. The second thing is the way how she squares her shoulders and tries to hide it when he comes in. Still, even if she didn’t look guilty and upset, he would have been able to tell that something had happened. The Negaband on his wrist linked them in a way that meant he could feel her guilt as if it was his own.

“Don’t do this,” he says, as he sits down next to her. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“It’s not- I don’t want you to worry,” she says. “I’m fine, really.”

Eros decides that this is a bit too obviously not the case. “You’re only talking because you don’t need to breathe as much as regular Kree.”

Phyla’s expression turns more militant after a moment. “If I am not enough Kree to breathe, I’d rather be enough Eternal to heal myself. Being laid up like this is boring.” She gives a rueful grin. “Heather wondered if I could do it. Especially if you help me through our bond.”

“She asked me the same question today,” Eros says, as he sits down by her side. “I told her I would try, although I don’t know if it is possible.” He takes her hands into his. “But you’re already doing something, aren’t you?”

Phyla nods and laces her fingers with his. Her hands are cold, but steady. “I am keeping my body in shape. All the glued and torn places, I keep them from rupturing.”

Eros’s feels stunned. He doesn’t think he could do that – regeneration is stimulating his body to do what it would do anyway, only much, much faster. To force it to do something so unnatural – keep blood from bursting vessels, keep a lung from collapsing even though it’s punctured – that goes far beyond it. It is almost akin to what their cousins on Earth can do, who can regenerate from being dispersed into atoms, completely rebuilding their bodies.

The girl feels his awe. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

He hurries to reassure her. “Not at all. I’m impressed. I think there’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to make you heal. In fact, you may have done so once already—when Thanos- on Sacrosanct. If I’m right, it should be child’s play for you to do it again.”

Phyla gives him a somewhat shaky smile. “Let’s find out then.”

Her grip tightens. Maybe they don’t even need physical contact, but Eros thinks it might help. At the very least, it will be a reassurance. Then, Eros sinks into the world of sensation—he feels her wounds almost as if they were his, even through the painkillers Heather has been feeding Phyla.

He thinks of how he’d regenerate, the buttons he’d stimulate inside his cells, turning energy into matter to feed new growth, and a later moment Phyla follows his lead. Her awareness expands further, from passively sensing the energy patterns inside her, to actively influencing them.

The natural reaction would be to draw on her own energy, or his, since at the moment that is the same. But she is weak, and he is far from restored, either. So she adds energy from the environment, drawing on the lights and then on the ship’s reactor.

Alarms blare, the lights flicker and die, and for a moment, everything is plunged into total darkness. Immediately, she tears away her hands from his and gasps.

Eros is as startled as she is and also feels dizzy, and remembers he has yet to eat breakfast. Even with Phyla almost killing the reactions in the power plant, she was still also drawing on him.

Then Heather storms in, followed by both Captains Marvel, just as the lights come back to life and the alarm dies.

“Sorry,” Phyla says looking sheepish. She’s visibly better now—with enough blood inside her to turn crimson. “I guess I need a lot of energy for regenerating.”

“I think I ought to have eaten dinner,” Eros replies and aims for a disarming, innocent grin.

Heather rolls her eyes. “Next time you play with fundamental forces, get the hell away from my ship.”

Which is a smart idea, but neither of them is up for trying again. “I think you should have a good night’s sleep before we try again,” Eros says to Phyla, who picks at her blanket.

“I guess,” she says after a moment. Moondragon sits down at her side then and takes her hand.

“Phy, love, you scared us,” she says in a much kinder tone. “No one is mad at you.”

Just like the Captains Marvel, Eros takes it as his cue to leave. He probably could use some rest too.

Chapter Text

Norbert is used to waking up in unexpected circumstances. That he would feel less surprised about waking up paralyzed in a cell than about waking in the arms of a woman says a lot about his life. That waking up president of the universe would seem likelier than the woman being Karla… Well, that probably points to self-esteem issues most people who know him would not expect.

And yet. He wakes up in the arms of a woman and even before he can think of finding a mirror to see her face, he can hear Karla’s voice: “Don’t say anything unfortunate now.”

He feels her at his back, her arms around his chest. It’s a comfortable position and he very much doesn’t want to ruin the moment. So he opts to be silent, and simply puts his hands on hers. At least he is not worrying about her motives – there is no need for her to sleep with him to get something from him. She’d get anything for free. And he also is not vain enough to think she might have done it because of his skill…

The silence stretches, and he feels himself dozing off, comfortable and for once feeling actually quite safe. “Thank you”, he whispers, because he knows he will sleep again.

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulls him closer and kisses the back of his neck. Her breath tickles him slightly, but not enough to stop him from drifting completely asleep. He closes his eyes and after a moment, Karla settles back too.

He could get used to it, he thinks. 

Mar-vell feels something poke his cheek. It’s cool and slightly wet, so he does the most logical thing his half-awake brain can think of, which is making token noise of protest and turning his face away.

Food.

It’s not him who is hungry—well, actually, now that he thought that, it’s morning and he is hungry. Resigned, he opens his eyes and finds a smug flerken watching him.

“You could ask someone else to feed you,” he mutters. It’s still too loud, given that Carol stirs.

The children are busy.

There is a sense of amusement there.

Mar-vell sighs. “So was I. I was sleeping.”

But I am a lot more interesting.

Carol stirs again, and yawns. “Who are you talking to?”

“Chewie,” Mar-vell replies. “She’s hungry and apparently feeling neglected.” He kisses Carol’s cheek. “Go back to sleep, I’ll feed her.”

Carol makes an indistinct sound and dozes off moments later. 

The children are indeed busy, although probably not in the way that Mar-vell would have suspected. Instead, they are occupying the small lower level bathroom, with Melissa explaining her hair dye to Genis and how to keep colours consistent.

It’s not particularly complicated, given that the package with the dye also comes with a little brush. The only part that Genis finds weird is that he’s supposed to be using tinfoil to keep the dyed hair from dyeing the rest of Melissa’s hair or her skin.

But since the foil is already cut up into stripes, he decides to simply follow the instructions.

Except, it turns out that it’s not that simple. “So, how much darker is darker than your hair when dry?”

“Let me see,” Melissa says and examines the strand while Genis holds it before her face. “Put a bit more dye on it, and we should be done.”

It takes two more strokes with the brush for him to finish one side, so he can move to the other. Melissa, meanwhile, looks up at him.

“Did you decide if you want to keep dyeing your hair?”

Genis shrugs. “I guess so. Since I’m now spending so much time looking normal, I’ve gotten used to this colour. I don’t want to change it.”

Carefully, so she doesn’t spread dye on her clothes or him, Melissa reaches up and ruffles his hair. “Why not? It looks good. Did you dye it yourself?”

“Yeah,” Genis replies. “It was more complicated when it was longer, but by now I’m pretty good at it.”

“With long hair it’s a pain, yes.” She gets up very carefully and looks at the egg timer they borrowed from the kitchen for the purpose. “Only five minutes to go.”

Genis grins at her then. “I can think of some things we can do in five minutes.”

He leans forward and kisses her then. It’s a bit awkward since he can’t really put his hands anywhere, because he’s still wearing paint-stained gloves. Maybe it wasn’t that brilliant an idea as it seemed a moment before.

Melissa tries to kiss back except that just ends with one of the pink streaks across Genis’s face. “Bad idea.” She takes a paper towel and carefully wipes the dye from his nose. It tickles and Genis has to sneeze.

“Sorry,” he mouths, while Melissa giggles. “I think your hair survived though. I guess we should wait those five minutes. Like reasonable people.”

“You sound so disappointed,” Melissa says as she continues giggling. “It’s not that long.”

Fortunately, at this point the timer rings.

When Melissa looks at him and then, after a moment’s hesitation, puts her head under the faucet, he keeps thinking back to Rick’s words. Is there something wrong with them? He thought it was easy to just wait for Melissa to make the first step so he can be sure he is not going to take advantage of her… But what if she never will?

Dimly, he wonders if maybe she is waiting for him to make the first move, but before he can gather his courage to ask that, she wraps a towel around her head, kisses him on the cheek and leaves the bathroom.

He feels stupid and useless. Why can’t he express what he wants to say?

Chapter Text

Mar-vell looks into the fridge with resignation. He’d offered to feed Chewie, so he will have to face a dead animal in a can again. A paw taps his leg, as if to remind him not the tarry.

Food.

It's not like Kree, or a human language—the sound itself isn't what carries the meaning, it's the pitch, and the behaviour that accompanies it. He looks down, and sees a hungry flerken looking back at him.

He locates the catfood, which is not that difficult, since it has a picture of a very smug white cat on it, and starts opening the can. He isn't as... squeamish, he supposes, as civilian Kree about meat—he can eat it, if he absolutely must, but it's still something of a... disconcerting moment when he sees others acting like it smells or looks in any way appetizing.

You're making the wrong face. Stop. This is delicious.

The comment almost makes him laugh.

“No, I will not stop making a face like that,” he says. “It's a dead animal in can.”

More for me. That's why I like you.

He scoops the brownish-grey substance into a bowl—it's only slightly less disgusting than the hamburgers Rick used to eat—and then senses a presence behind his back. He turns around to see Genis in the door, trying very hard not to look like he's about to laugh.

 “Hi?” he says.

“Hello,” Mar-vell replies.

“Do you want me to take over?” Genis asks. “You look like you’re about to gag.”

Naughty child. Don’t steal other’s food. To make it plain for those not capable of understanding flerken – which Genis should be able to but so far doesn’t seem to have tried – she gets between her bowl and the young man and bares her teeth.

“Hey, you can stop that,” Genis says to the flerken. “Melissa told me not to eat your food already.”

Mar-vell smiles, and motions for Genis to sit down. He does so after a moment, while Mar-vell finishes filling the cat food bowl. Genis seems to be quite restless though, fidgeting almost constantly.

 “Um… I might have an awkward question,” Genis says after a moment. “I’d ask Eros, but um… well, he’ll give me advice on how to lure someone to bed, and that’s not what I want, and if I ask Rick… Er… He asked me for advice on smoothing out things with Marlo once, so I don’t think-“ Mar-vell waits for the conclusion, since Genis seems to be getting to the point. “Maybe I should ask Carol? She’s human—I mean she was born human and Melissa is a human, so she’ll probably know better. Do you think she’ll mind?”

“I suppose not, given that I don’t know what you want to ask her,” Mar-vell replies, trying very hard not to sound too amused.

“Sorry,” Genis says. “I think I started in the middle. I didn’t ever have trouble asking someone if they want to sleep with me, and I guess I just- there’s the whole mess with human attitudes to sex, and- I don’t know.”

“And now you don’t know how to ask?” Mar-vell isn’t sure where this is going, but he can hazard a guess.

Genis nods, then shakes his head and finally ends up with his head resting on the table in a gesture of utter defeat. “I don’t. I keep wondering if I’ll say something wrong.”

“Why?” According to what Carol told him, Genis and Melissa were a couple before he was banished, so did they become estranged during his absence or is this something else?

“Lots of things—but mostly because I didn’t know some things about Melissa before and now I keep wondering if maybe I already said something that would upset her or-“ Genis stops for a moment.

“I think this is something you need to talk about with Melissa,” Mar-vell replies after a moment. “She’s the only one who can tell you what will bother her.” He thinks a moment longer, and adds, “But perhaps talk with Carol before that—she can probably tell you better how to best approach this than I can.”

Genis chews on his lip for a moment, and then nods. 

There is an advantage to sitting on this planet and having nothing to do – Melissa is reasonably certain she’s finally mostly done preparing for her tests. Her scores on the fifth dry-run are about as perfect as they are to get.

She turns around and looks at Genis, who has just recently returned from the kitchen with her breakfast.

He’s sitting cross-legged on the mattress, his eyes closed. His face looks almost featureless, all darkness and little flickering lights.

Then he opens his eyes and it’s like someone flipped a switch—he’s looking completely human again.

“Wow.” Melissa smiles and reaches out to touch Genis’s cheek. “You are turning it on and off like a torch.”

Genis nods. And then his forehead creases in a frown. “Makes me wonder…”

“What is it?” Melissa asks.

“Why I couldn’t do it earlier. It’s not like it’s… easy, but I learned how it feels when it’s not there and I can make it come and go away… It probably was all my fault all the time.” He hangs his head.

Melissa sits down in front of him then and takes his hands. “How exactly is that your fault that you didn’t know? It’s not like anyone had shown it to you, right?”

He rests his head on her shoulder. “Heather tried. And my mother…”

She can feel him tense and rubs his back. “And they told you it’s your failure if you can’t do it?”

“That it’s because I’m too immature for that kind of power,” he replies after a moment. “I don’t feel any more mature now, though.”

She has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing – not because this is funny, but because it is ridiculous. “That’s an easy way to shift blame. It’s like telling the sky it’s its fault to be blue.”

“What do you mean?” Genis asks sounding completely puzzled.

“Well, you said it yourself. You don’t feel any more mature now – but it works now. So maybe it didn’t have something to do with qualities that are unmeasurable and more with something else.” She leans her forehead against his.

“But why would they tell me it’s my fault, if it wasn’t?” Genis asks, now completely lost. “It’s not like it’s going to help me learn anything, if I think that something is wrong with me, except it’s a totally different thing that I’m doing that’s the problem?”

“Otherwise, you might think they don’t know what they are talking about. Which they clearly didn’t. So better make you feel bad about yourself, rather than make you realize they have no idea and are talking out of their ass.” Melissa knows as much from personal experience.

Genis doesn’t answer her. Instead, he pulls her closer.

“Sorry,” she says. “It’s probably hard hearing something like that about your mother.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It is. And… if she didn’t know what the problem was—why was she teaching Phyla?” He looks up.

Melissa puts her hand on his cheek. “I guess she convinced herself to believe what she was saying. So, since Phyla wasn’t you, she could teach her.”

“But what if Phyla loses control, too? She didn’t, so far, but she blocked her cosmic awareness so hard she thought it was lost. Now she knows it isn’t.”

Melissa frowns. “Maybe you should talk to your father? He’s the one who has the most experience here?”

“That probably is a good idea,” Genis replies with a smile. Then, he glances at her laptop and adds, “Wow, you got a great score. I guess you are about ready to take the exams?”

Melissa nods and now that she’s thinking about it again, something else occurs to her.  

“What do you think we will be doing next?” she asks.

“I guess Phyla and Eros will need to find a portal to the Negative Zone to get separated,” he says.

“Because one of them needs to get in there and then leave physically without switching places?” she asks.

Genis nods. “Like Rick and my father did.”

She frowns. “Couldn’t you just teleport the person who goes in out again?” After all, Genis can breach the barrier to the Negative Zone.

“Hm.” He looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. I never tried bringing out anyone I didn’t bring in. We better not risk it, or whoever goes in is stuck until they get to a portal, and that might complicate things a lot.”

Melissa nods and snuggles up to Genis. “So, do we go with them searching for a portal?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” he replies, and puts his arm over her shoulders. “It’s not like they’d need us for that or anything. Why?”

“I’ll eventually have to go back to earth,” she says. “And find out when I can take the tests. Also, my leave will eventually end.”

Genis kisses her. “I guess Carol will have to go back soon, too.”

 “Hm…” Melissa leans against his chest. “I can’t fly in space, so I guess going with Carol sounds like our best option.”

Chapter Text

Eros eats his tasteless nutrient paste breakfast and thinks. During all her training on Titan, he had never expected Phyla to be capable of the things she has done now. Of course, he was never all that interested in technical stuff compared to, say, racing comets, but given how diligent and determined the young woman had worked, how could abilities like this be overlooked?

“You seem worried,” Mar-vell says as he enters.

“Hm? No, I wouldn’t say worried,” Eros replies. “Just… surprised, I guess. I’ve been alive for so much longer and I can’t keep my body in shape like she was doing. I can regenerate it, but that’s just telling it what it already knows how to do faster and feeding it energy to let it do it.”

“You sound like you didn’t intend for her or Genis to be as powerful as they are,” Mar-vell says, his tone surprisingly neutral to Eros.

“Elysius and my father mostly wanted them alive,” Eros replies. “Since Kree and Eternals can’t normally produce offspring at all. I don’t think my father intended to give Genis any special powers at all, beyond what he would get from being half-Eternal.”

Seeing Mar-vell’s disbelief, he shrugs. “He only manifested cosmic awareness and so on later. I don’t know why.” Then, he frowns. “They probably intended to make Phyla stronger than Genis. Some of the things she started to show look more like the abilities of the original Eternals on Earth. Like Sersi or Thena.” He paused. “I think she already regenerated once like they do—on Sacrosanct. The Eternals from Earth can come back from anything.”

Mar-vell nods. “Mentor is from Earth originally, isn’t he?”

Eros nods, aware of how ironic his smile becomes. “He sort of neglected to tell me there were more. I only met them when I was with the Avengers and they were just as surprised about me.”

“I’m sorry,” Mar-vell says.

“There is no reason to,” Eros replies quickly, hoping to redirect the conversation away from his father’s relationship with him. “Whatever happened between my father and the other Eternals was eons ago.” 

Carol looks up at Genis from Harrison’s console. He feels rather hesitant all of a sudden—back when he had asked his father for advice, going to her next seemed quite logical—she was born on Earth, had been born human, she would know those things. He’d rather have Melissa with him but given that she’s going to be the reason why he wants to talk with Carol and that she’s back to her tests, which seems somewhat obsessive to him, he’s on his own this time.

Maybe it’s the old awkwardness coming back or maybe it’s that he can’t help but wonder if Carol will think him terribly stupid for not knowing what to do.

Except, he won’t know unless he asks. Even if it does make him a clueless idiot—it’s not as if he hadn’t proven that he is one time and again before.

“Do you have a moment?” he asks. “I- I need to ask you something.”

“Sure, what is it?” Carol asks.

So, Genis explains what he told his father again. About Melissa and his misgivings, and how he doesn’t know what to do—how to talk with her without coming off like a clueless idiot or worse.

“Hm, you do definitely need to talk with her,” Carol said. “But before you do that—why does this make you so worried?”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Genis says.

“Then start with that—tell her you’re worried that you might accidentally do something that could hurt her—that you want her to tell you ‘no’, if she feels uncomfortable and that you want her to know it,” Carol says. “And then you listen to what she tells you.”

“It sounds so obvious now,” Genis says.

Carol shakes her head. “It only sounds simple. If it actually were, people would have a lot less problems with communicating.” She claps his shoulder. “It’s a good start, though.”

Chapter Text

Since they were told to stay away from the ship when they try to heal her again, Eros comes to help Phyla out of the medbay in the morning. It’s hot outside, but that doesn’t appear to bother the young woman.

He carries her, despite her protests and walks away from the ship in a straight line. She says that the sunlight makes her feel stronger already, so she directs him to move further into the desert, until the ship and grove are just tiny specs of dust in the distance.

He spreads out a blanket and helps her sit down, before flopping down opposite of her. And jump up again, holding his backside. “It’s hot!” He has to use his regeneration to prevent blisters from rising.

Phyla grins. She looks like a cat that found out how to open the tuna can. “You can float?”

It will look ridiculous, but he doesn’t really have a choice. He floats opposite of her and takes her hand. “Ok, about regeneration. Could you do it on your own, now? Since you know how it works?”

Phyla shakes her head. “I tried, just with something tiny, like where I bit my lip. I can’t start it.”

Eros nods. “That might take some more practice.”

Perhaps, he had over-estimated her capabilities, but he doesn’t think so. If anything, going by Genis, he is likely underestimating them still, but even so, he is fairly sure, she will be able to master regenerating.

Again, he helps her guide the cells of her body to regenerate and multiply, mending torn tissues and broken bones. It seems almost an endless task for a moment, but slowly Phyla grows stronger and healthier. Eventually, she lets go of his hand and when he looks at her, she looks almost like he remembers her.

“What about your hair?” he asks.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise and disbelief. “Could we? Could we grow it back? It’s dead cells—I didn’t think it’s possible.”

“I think as long as it counts as a part of you, you can regrow it,” Eros says. “I mean, speed up regrowing it.”

For a moment, Phyla seems to consider it. “I’ll wait. I can practice that on my own and see if I do manage to jump start something inside me or if this really only works if you do it for me.”

Now that Phyla can lean back and stretch, Eros has to grin at her exhilaration to have regained her full range of movement. “I want to fly… But I’ll probably just crash,” she admits. “I’m tired, this has taken a lot out of me.”

Eros smiles. “Healing does that. You could just absorb more energy, but I think sleeping is probably a better idea.”

She nods. “And you’re tired, too. I can feel it.”

“Let’s go back.”

He pulls her to her feet and they walk back the short way to the ship, evading Heather, because she will just fuss, Phyla thinks.

Back in the medbay he moves to tuck her in and she grins. “I’ll be glad when I get to fuss over others again.”

At this, Eros’s stomach takes a leap. There’s something he will have to tell her and he doesn’t want to.

Bound as they are, she picks it up immediately. “What’s wrong?” Habit makes him look for a lie or a joke but Phyla just shakes her head. “Don’t even bother.”

Seeing her worry makes him feel helpless. He cups her face in his hand, running his thumb over the sharp line of her cheekbone and she wraps her arms around him. “Please stop. Don’t feel responsible for me. You already suffered so much for me… I’ve been messing up much longer than you are alive. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again,” she whispers into his shoulder.

“Shhh,” he says softly. And then he picks up something beyond her determination to protect him.

“You did it. You killed Tanalth. For me?” He feels nothing, his insides suddenly numb.

“I had help. She needed to be stopped. Not just because of what she did to you. Because what she would have done to my father, my family and for the war she’d have started.” She draws back, looking at him with apprehension. “I told you my head is not a nice place. I am a soldier, too. I fought in wars. I carried death. I’m not innocent, if I ever was.”

It takes him a while to digest this. It’s not that he really expected her to stay a child, when out alone in a universe that is always at war. Not everyone considers their naiveté a virtue and would go to the length he did to at least be able to project it outwards.

“I’m not… I am not disappointed”, he says, prompted by her wide, fearful eyes. She might not be afraid of armies, but she is afraid of his rejection. And he can’t bear that. “I am grateful for what you did for me. I love you. But I’m not as strong as you.”

Very careful, she reaches for him again and he returns her embrace. “I love you,” he repeats. “But I cannot fight like you do.”

Phyla smiles at him. The smile is tired and worn, and suddenly her eyes are so very old. “It’s alright.” She lies back down on her pillow and takes his hand again. “I won’t do anything stupid. And you survived much longer than me so I’m sure you will be ok, too.”

He can feel the brittleness of her cheer, picking up what he is still trying to hide. “I’ll be fine”, he tries to reassure her, all too aware that she is seeing right through him.

“Don’t go. Don’t do that to yourself. Please.”

She takes his hand. “Don’t go.” She’s still the warrior who will face any threat, yet she also knows there are things she cannot fight and one of them is what he still has to do, no matter how much it cost him already and how much he fears it.

 “I have to. I can wait, but in the end, I cannot run away from the consequences of my actions. Not without being the dishonorable coward my brother thought I was.

It would be a lie to say that he wants it. The thought of enduring something like Equivox – even without the High Pursuer – or some of the worlds before it, makes his insides clench. Except, he is not without honor or a conscience and he cannot walk away from his sins. He can take detours, and he can wait, and interrupt and try to see just the fool in the mirror and not the man… but in the end, it is not who he is.

He has not yet said it aloud, has not even put it into words like that in his own head, but faced with Phyla’s eyes, so full of trust and love and fear, he has to. And so he tells her, while at some point he stops holding her hands and finds himself in her arms, clinging to her like a child to his mother. Something he has never done before.

Chapter Text

When Heather tries to check on Phyla and Eros telepathically the next time, she realizes they are already back on the ship. She heads to the medbay and finds Phyla sitting on Eros’s bed, one hand resting on his back as he sleeps. It reminds her of nothing so much as of her few, confused childhood memories of her mother sitting at her side when she had a fever.                                             

There’s a stab of shame, as she finds her jealousy especially churlish. It’s not that she ever thought Eros was going to take Phyla’s love from her. Only her time. Her attention. And that is a really, really childish reason to be jealous.

+You are tired, and you should sleep. Go to bed. You’ll be able to run around soon enough.+

Phyla does not sigh. Still her exasperation is plain. +I guess I’ll stay in bed when there is no longer a reason for me to leave it?+

Heather rolls her eyes. +Just be grateful you are well again and don’t risk your recovery and make yourself convalescent longer than necessary?+

+Is that prophecy?+ Phyla has taken cues about being the only intelligent, long suffering individual in a given conversation from her. It makes Heather smile inwardly.

She places a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. She can feel Phyla’s exhaustion, and how she holds it at bay with sheer bloody-mindedness, one of the major forces of the universe, after all.

+This is just silly.+

The exhausted girl disentangles herself from Heather’s embrace again with a shrug and bends over Eros, who moved in his sleep. She runs a hand over his cheek and he quiets. It’s almost like magic.

+You’re not his mother.+

+I wouldn’t want to be a mother, even if what you just said wasn’t completely stupid.+ Phyla finally gets up and goes back to her bed. +I don’t have a very good opinion of mothers, after all.+ Propped up on pillows, she sinks back into a half lying, half sitting position.

+I guess it is too late to say that your mother is not a very good example?+

There’s a bitter mental snort of amusement. +She’s hardly the only one. Eros’s mother denied him, and I think my grandmother also wasn’t anyone my father likes to think about. And Anelle threw my half-brother to the wolves.+

+…+ Even mental silence can be eloquent, Heather guesses.

+I love Eros. I want to protect him+, Phyla admits quietly. +Maybe that’s maternal in some way. If so, then I already have reached the part where the child grows up and you can’t protect them anymore.+

Heather doesn’t need to be a mind reader to guess what that is about. +Idiot. All men are idiots.+ She doesn’t mean it, it’s just her anger which is bordering on despair speaking, because she can’t see a way to cut that tangle apart. So, she remains sitting at Phyla’s side, stroking her head. +Sleep. We will find a way, I promise. You don’t have to save the world all on your own.+

+That’s a lie.+

+Indulge me.+

Una sits in front of a window and looks out with an expression of utter boredom. She turns around as Carol is a few steps behind her.

“We’re leaving the Empire soon, aren’t we?” she asks.

“Yes,” Carol replies as she pulls a chair to herself. “Do you want us to leave you at the same station as before, or would you rather we picked another place?”

Una sits still instead of answering. Eventually, she folds her hands on her lap, fingers of her right hand curling over the left.

“I was thinking about it, actually,” she says. “Would it be possible for me to come to Earth with you?”

Carol is more than surprised then. “What happened to Earth being too dangerous to live on?”

The other woman looks up, her mouth curling into a wry smile. “It was talk. I… realized that the only people who care if I’m alive or not are going to be on Earth. I guess… I’d rather be close to them.”

“You do realize you will have to go through a lot of hoops?” Carol asks. “Visas to the States are hard enough if you’re from another country on Earth.” She’s not mentioning that all it will take is her word, but she wants to find out it the Kree really means it. 

“I don’t really have anything better to do,” Una shrugs. “I’d rather wrestle redtape than end up a casualty in a barfight or starve.”

Rick isn’t doing anything productive, unless honing one’s skills in shooting pixels is productive, when he hears steps. He looks up and sees Mar-vell at the threshold.

“Hey,” he says. “You know, I probably should say something like ‘just like the old times’ but I think I didn’t get myself into enough trouble to qualify for that.”

“You weren’t nearly as bad as you seem to think,” Mar-vell says with a smile. “I do remember trouble unrelated to you happening quite a lot.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” Rick replies. “Anyway, not that I mind the current company or anything, but I really need to ask – when are we going back to Earth?”

Mar-vell sits down on Rick’s bed. He seems to be hesitating to answer, which Rick guesses means that the plans have either changed again or are being very nebulous.

“We’ve two ships—I’m sure we can find some way for those of us who need to go back to get back,” he says. He may not be a pilot, but he’d been kidnapped by aliens often enough to feel reasonably confident that he can come back to Earth.

Eventually.

“We will go back soon,” Mar-Vell says. “Provided nothing dramatic happens.”

Rick laughs. “You had to say it, right?” Now they are doomed.

Chapter Text

Mentor spends the next day in a stupor. Mentally going over every conversation with Mar-Vell and his children, over all the mistakes he could have made, listening to the testimony again and again. He cannot make sense of it.

Eventually, he has to admit to himself that there’s nothing more he can do and this is pointless. And that he should check up on Elysius. If he’s taking it so badly, how must she feel?

He walks up the hill to the fallen tree, fully expecting her to be there. He remembers now: this was where Mar-Vell told her he was going to die. This was where it all started to fall apart. But the spot is empty. It doesn’t alarm him yet—it’s possible that there were just too many painful memories there for her and she retreated to her quarters. In which case, it might be rude to visit her without a warning. He calls up ISAAC to ask him to inform her he’d like to speak with her.

ISAAC leaves a message and Mentor goes back to his brooding... until he realises how odd it is that somebody doesn't answer a summons from ISAAC right away. Does she not want to talk to him? Or...

"ISAAC, locate Elysius."

A moment passes. Then another. And then, ISAAC says, “Elysius is not present on Titan.”

Did she.... As an Eternal, Elysius is capable of flying into space unaided. Does she want to go and see Mar-Vell, despite his wishes? Further inquiries show nothing. She is not here, and ISAAC cannot tell when, where and how she left. Given that the possibility that she left Titan to talk with Mar-Vell and Genis, Mentor decides to inform them she’s missing and might be looking for them. Somehow, he doubts either of them will like the news…

Given Norbert’s sleeping problems it’s normal that he sleeps in every day. Of course, this affords Karla the opportunity to watch him sleep. He’s curled up on his side and still holding her hand. Which is sort of cute.

She doesn’t really believe all that stuff about showing your real face when asleep – how could you when your brain is disengaged? Still, it can be entertaining to watch people when conked out.

In case of Norbert, she finds that she is observing her own feelings more than his behavior. She remembers the last time she saw him sleep and that unexpected urge of protectiveness and sorrow at the thought of having to leave him to a dead end fate.

She can’t love him, can she? She doesn’t do that. She knows too much about people to ever feel anything without dissecting it into the aspects of behavior that are beneficent and those that need to be discarded because they are useless or even dangerous.

She should feel disdain at him holding her hand like she is an anchor and only evaluate the potential for gain… Except… She leans over and kisses him again. Maybe knowing everything isn’t the complete protection against vulnerability she thought it was.

It makes her think back to Danvers and her dig about Hawkeye. If people believed she cared for him, she had to have been good at playacting back then… Except. She grits her teeth. She has almost no memory of that time. Did the sealing of the Moonstone also seal her own memory? That couldn’t be the case, wouldn’t she notice if she was amnesiac? Wrong, Karla, how can you notice something that is not there?

With the Moonstones being tampered with, and all the traumatic experiences that followed, her memories being a mess is likely. Still, they ought to be inside the Moonstone, right? She could take them back anytime…

She must have moved a little, since beside her Norbert stirs some. He whispers her name and half turns to bury his face in her shoulder, before quieting again. She runs her hand through his hair. In her stomach, there is an icy pit. Like an echo, a thought reverberates around her brain.

“Am I that afraid of becoming a better person?”

Am I?

And then, because the universe does appreciate a good dramatic moment, Norbert sits up bolt-straight and announces dramatically, “They’re going after Earth!”

He dives out of bed, without bothering with clothes, while Karla definitely hears Ajes’ha’s voice in her head comment dryly, “Finally.”

“Shut up.” A mental command and her armor enfolds her body, while she is already running after him.

Melissa sits down next to Genis and hands him a mug of coffee. She glances at the screen, and wonders what the reason for this sudden summons is. Carol is standing behind Mar-Vell, her hands on his shoulders, and Chewie jumps up on Genis’s lap. Moondragon, Phyla and Eros join last, the two women holding hands as they enter.

“I guess regardless of the news, we’ll be heading back,” Melissa says. She notes that Phyla doesn’t look like she likes the idea.

“Yes,” Carol replies. “I don’t think it’s safe to stay here much longer for one.”

“Probably not,” Mar-Vell agrees.

“We-“ Phyla starts to say, and then the Winter Soldier appears on the screen, looking quite flustered. That is probably owed to Norbert behind him. Or rather, Norbert’s completely textile-free state. It’s rather distracting, at least until Melissa discovers the third person in the room – Karla, dressed for war.

“Look, we don’t have time for trivialities,” Norbert says, sounding very agitated.

“Is doing conferences naked a human thing?” Genis asks very innocently. Too innocently, in fact. He also appears to be very amused.

Phyla on the other hand has her face in her hand. Heather’s arching an eyebrow, and Eros looks like he wants to chuckle. Mar-Vell seems to be taking it in stride, possibly because Carol is looking exasperated for both of them.

The Winter Soldier waves it away like a fly. “We don’t have time for that. The Kree ships we have been watching, have left their positions fifteen minutes ago. Their course is set for Earth.”

Mar-Vell sighs and announces in a tone of a very disappointed parent, “Of course.”

“We sent the Star off to do a tour of the galaxy, and left Equivox airspace five minutes ago.” Bucky nods to Norbert then. “You might want to explain what you’ve found out in more detail, ‘Bert.”

Fixer steps forward, which also means that Winter Soldier’s chair hides his naughty bits. Melissa bites her tongue to stop her nervous giggles. “Not much. I hid a little AI in the Kree webspace and it alerted me to the ships leaving. They didn’t head for a rendezvous, but I triangulated their routes and they converge somewhere outside of our solar system.”

“We need to alert Alpha Flight,” Carol says. “And the Avengers. And whoever else I can think of.”

“Guardians of the Galaxy, maybe?” Heather suggests.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Call the cavalry in, as they wouldn’t listen to me.” The Winter Soldier gets up. “See you on the road, I guess.”

Norbert stops him with an impatient wave of his hand. “Don’t panic yet.” He continues: “We can intercept them if we hurry.” He then gestures towards Genis irritably, “Let’s meet up and Boy Wonder here can teleport us into their path. The army isn’t so big that three Kree WMDs won’t be able to stop it. And if it is, there’s still us.”

Melissa hides a giggle at the title, and just nods. “Makes sense.”

The Winter Soldier agrees quickly and they exchange coordinates. He cuts the feed and the screen goes black. Moondragon turns to Phyla then and asks her, “What should we do? Find the Guardians of the Galaxy in case the intercept does not work? I can’t take my ship into a battle, it isn’t armed.”

“No, we ought to come with them,” the young woman says, though she doesn’t sound happy. “Aren’t you both Avengers?”

Eros nods. “We are. Once an Avengers, always an Avenger. We should help to protect Earth.” He looks almost relieved and Phyla squeezes his hand reassuringly. “It will be fine.”

“I can take you all along,” Carol says after a quick calculation. “It’s going to be tight, but we aren’t going on a cruise.”

And then she’s interrupted when it turns out that Heather’s ship’s AI has rerouted another call to Harrison.

Chapter Text

Due to life getting in the way and some technical issues, we'll be posting the next chapter this Friday. Sorry for the delay.

Chapter Text

Mentor’s worried face appears on the screen. Not good. Heather wonders if it means that the Kree are already there, but then they’d likely have people yelling at Carol Danvers to get there right this instant.

He looks around, noting that there’s probably a lot more people than he expected.

“Phyla, Genis,” he says as he nods at them. “Mar-Vell. And… Carol Danvers, and Songbird, correct? And Heather of course. I wish I could say I’m glad to see all of you, but I’ve… worrying news,” he says. “Something is going on on Titan. Elysius is missing.”

Which is the last thing they need.

“Has she gone after Mar-Vell and Genis?” Heather asks with an exasperated sigh.

“It’s possible, but I’m starting to think that it’s unlikely,” Mentor says. “If she had left, ISAAC would know. But he doesn’t. Actually, he did self-diagnostics and noticed he has five time lapses of 20 seconds, where all of his information input stops and his processes freeze.”

“Could Elysius have done that? So she can leave undetected?” Heather muses. She knows that Eros and the other Eternal children had learned to hoodwink the omnipresent computer… Maybe he taught her, or it was part of the knowledge she was implanted with…

“No,” Mentor replies. “ISAAC found a virus that did it. The code seems to be Kree as far as ISAAC can tell.”

“Can I see the code?” Mar-Vell asks, just as Genis flickers to reach out with Cosmic Awareness.

“It was a Kree woman, but I don’t recognize her,” he says.

Kree? That does not sound good at all. “Did you find anything else?” Heather doesn’t do panic. Still, if she would, she would be close now. If the Kree went after the mother of Mar-Vell’s children, after Tanalth’s attempt to get Mar-Vell… that is more than worrying.

“ISAAC found trails left by a Kree ship,” Mentor says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What could they want with Elysius? Do they hope to use her as bait now that Eros proved insufficient?”

Heather doesn’t think that would work, but she guesses the Kree wouldn’t know that. “Possible. Or they want to replicate Phyla and Genis… After Phyla killed the Grand High Pursuer and trashed their flagship.” Something freezes inside her. With all her worry about Phyla, all her attempts to protect her, she has overlooked how incredibly powerful her lover has become. And power very often leads to desperate measures…

Phyla gasps, clearly shocked. Genis only crosses his arms over his chest—she senses he’s sceptical. Mar-Vell, once again, seems to be wary.

Mentor looks stricken. “Oh no. Please, you must find her before… Before they can do anything to her.”

Heather doesn’t exactly feel like that – she has seen too much of the damage that woman did – but that doesn’t mean she wants to add more hurt to it. Like having Phy also feel guilty for abandoning her mother. “I’ll see what I can do. Mar-Vell should be able to find her and maybe Earth’s heroes can dispatch someone to intercept the Kree. I’m too far away at the moment, they are much closer.”

“Thank you, Heather,” Mentor says. “Is there anything I can do?”

“See if ISAAC can recover any of the lost data and if you find out anything, call me again.”

Mentor nods. “I will inform you.”

Phyla doesn’t know what she feels at first. It’s all jumbled, one emotion beginning in another. And all of this is swirling inside her, like ice and magma mixing. Around her, people are talking. She can’t spare the effort to listen. She has to create order from the chaos or she will explode.

The tangle inside her begins to separate slowly and she can discern which part stems from her and which from Eros. His feelings are a lot more intense. There is fear, anger and a great amount of guilt. But most overwhelming is the sense of love. He doesn't want to feel it, doesn't want to allow it to leak into her mind. Yet, it’s there and it cannot be denied.

She reaches out and takes his hand. It’s cold and trembling. “It’s ok,” she whispers, “I’m afraid, too.”

He squeezes her fingers gently. “I won't make you do anything you are not comfortable with,” he answers. “I’m sure Carol can find someone to rescue Elysius. It doesn't have to be us. It probably shouldn't be us.”

Phyla shakes her head. “That’s not true,” she whispers back. Somehow she doesn't even consider using their bond, as if the whole thing is too serious for secrecy. “You still love her. I won't let you suffer all the uncertainty about what might happen to her. We’ll go and find her. That doesn't mean I’ll talk to her or be alone with her, just that I will not leave her to a fate that's probably worse than whatever she subjected me to.”

Eros puts his arm around her shoulders and she buries her head in his chest. She doesn’t want to see Heather’s disbelief or her father’s pity.

“We will go and find Elysius,” Eros explains. “You others go and defend Earth from the Kree.”

There’s a hand resting on her back. It’s not Eros’s. Phyla looks up and looks into her father’s blue eyes. The expression is one she cannot read. “I will come with you”, he says.

Carol Danvers and Genis gasp.

“I’m Kree,” he says. “I’ve got Cosmic Awareness. I’m probably the person best suited to breaking into a Kree space ship. And it’s not the first time I’d be disabling one on foot, if it comes to that.”

Chapter Text

Carol is upset, but trying not to show it. Mar-Vell can guess why—he doesn’t need Cosmic Awareness for that. If their roles were reversed, he’d be upset too.

“Carol,” he says, as he puts some of his things in a bag.

“No, I understand why you’re doing this and I’m not going to tell you not to,” Carol says, as she rubs her arms in a self-soothing gesture. Mar-Vell pulls her into a hug then.

“I love you,” he says.

“I know,” Carol says, and puts her hand on his cheek. “And I love you too, which means I will be worried. You’re no longer nearly indestructible.”

He nods. “I know. I wasn’t, most of the time I was a soldier. I’ll be OK.”

“So…” Carol says. “You’re going to save your- you’re going to save Elysius.”

“Yes,” Mar-Vell replies. “She was targeted because of me. I know it is not my fault, but I cannot leave Eros and Phyla to deal with it alone.”

Carol shakes her head. “They are grown up and powerful.” Then she shrugs. “I’m not jealous. It’s not like I’m afraid you will run off with her. I’m afraid you will be hurt, not just physically but emotionally.” There is clearly something she doesn’t want to spell out.

“Carol, I’ve long ago made peace with the fact that Kree are kind of terrible,” Mar-Vell says.

“That’s not it,” Carol replies. “You’re having flashbacks to your death. Elysius might be a trigger.”

That is true. Mar-Vell feels the constricting tightness of his chest again and embraces Carol fiercely, as a means to drown out the sensation. She rubs his back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this.”

“I know,” Mar-Vell replies. She also has a point. He doesn’t know how he’ll react to Elysius. He won’t know until he meets her. He keeps his face buried in her shoulder while he concentrates on breathing, calmly, deeply and blissfully easily. His emotions are a mess, worse now because he understands finally what is happening to him in these moments and he feels fear. Fear he won’t surrender to, but it still grips him like a vice.

“Maybe…” Carol hesitates. “Damn, I wish we could get someone from Earth here, so they could come with you.”

“There will be Phyla?” Mar-Vell manages a somewhat shaky smile. “Clearly she can handle a lot more than anyone gave her credit to.” His daughter… Who killed the Grand High Pursuer. With help, true… “And I guess the Thunderbolts would loan us Moonstone, if that will make you feel better?”

Carol groans. “No, it won’t. The last thing I’d want is Moonstone around anyone who’s vulnerable.”

“And you will be needed to defend Earth. That is your job now.” Mar-Vell lets go of her and steps back to grab his bag. “We will be fine.”

“Or I could ask Jessica or Jen to come,” Carol says after a moment. “Jess might hate space stuff and… Hm, Jen will probably be better.”

“Carol.” Mar-Vell puts his hand on her shoulder. “They will be needed on Earth.”

“I know, but I don’t want-“ She breathes in. “No, I’m worrying too much. Phyla is potentially one of the most powerful beings I’ve met, since she absorbs all types of energy, and Eros is an Eternal. And you’re you.” She runs her hand against his cheek then.

He puts his fingers over hers. “We will be fine.”

Carol smiles at him. “And you might have a point that Moonstone might be helpful. Between Eros being an empath, and you and Phyla being cosmically aware, you should all notice if she’s up to something.”

It costs her quite a bit to admit this, it seems, and Mar-Vell resolves to ask her about it later. Now, he just nods. “Will you talk to the Winter Soldier?”

“Yes,” Carol says, as she pulls away from him quite unwillingly. She plants a kiss on his cheek before he heads out. 

Heather can’t help but worry, while she looks out of the cockpit of her ship down to where Phyla and Eros wait for Mar-Vell. Both seem tense. Phyla had been wounded terribly recently, and she’s going to be putting herself in danger without her soon. Sure, she could go along, but something tells her that would be a bad idea. Like she doesn’t trust Phy and Eros. Or… Just not a good idea.

That Mar-Vell actually decided to go with them should be a relief. Should. It’s not. Mar-Vell is not the man she knew before. And she doesn’t know if this is going to be better or worse. She wishes she could observe him some more to make up her mind, but that brings her back to square one.

But there’s no time for that, is there? She will need to trust him, trust Phyla and Eros and- and she can do it, damn it. Even if it gives her ulcers. She will hitch a ride with Carol Danvers. Little children can manage trust, so she should be able to do it with no problems. If she keeps fretting around Phyla and Eros, she will drive them away. She already made too many mistakes to hope for further freebies.

Also, what do they say? Once an Avenger, always an Avenger? She didn’t live up to that so far, anyway, so she better starts with it.

Taking her bag she walks down the ramp and hugs Phyla one last time. “I love you”, she says instead of any well wishes which would sound like believing in magic too much to be of use.

Her lover kisses her on the cheek. “I love you too. Don’t take over Earth until I’m back, ok?”

Beside them, Eros grins. “I don’t think Heather would want it.”

“People of Earth are perfectly capable-“ Heather starts, pauses and then says, “will not learn how to govern themselves if I do it for them.”

“Besides, we’d have to stop you, if you tried,” Mar-Vell adds, as he near them with a bag.

Heather hands over the activation codes for her ship. “Here you go. Try not to dent it too much, please.”

“I only crashed 13,67% of the ships I’ve flown in”, he says, with that very dry expression that makes her unable to tell if he is serious or joking. “Odds are in your favour.” He adds: “We are coming along to the rendezvous, because we will be picking up Moonstone to join us, unless you mind?” He looks at Eros and Phyla.

“Additional firepower will come in handy,” Eros says, while Phyla frowns.

“How do you crash 0,67% of a ship?” she muses.

“By flying more than a hundred”, Mar-Vell answers, his cheeks dimpling a little as he hides a smile.

“That is sneaky and underhanded,” Phyla protests as she starts laughing. But it’s only for a short moment. “Moonstone… I remember her. She ought to be helpful, if we run into bigger enemies.”

Carol has to fight for her better nature to win through. What she wants, honestly, is to lie and say Bucky cannot spare Moonstone. It isn’t even that Karla Sofen is a manipulative bitch – so is Heather. If she is honest, Moonstone is sort of a dark mirror image of Carol, or at least, what Carol fears a dark mirror might show.

Back when Osborn’s Dark Avengers were a thing and he dressed up Sofen in a version of Carol’s costume, she read the files and criminal record of the other woman. And she recognised quite a bit of her motivation, the desire to not be used and played. They went about it in very different ways, and they are very different women – Carol knows both their psychological profiles, after all.

Her fingers hover over the communications switch. Moonstone’s a manipulative bitch, yes. But she’s also a very intelligent and pragmatic manipulative bitch. She will do what is advantageous for her, and there wouldn’t be anything to gain by antagonising Carol, Mar-Vell or Eros.

No, what puts her hackles up so much, is that she actually felt a closer kinship with Karla than she wanted.

“Huh, so you’re asking me for help?” Moonstone asks, clearly not intending to make it any easier for Carol. “I could get used to that. Maybe-“

“Karla,” Bucky says. “This isn’t the time.”

“Ok, ok, sure, I’ll go and help out Captain Marvel and Captain Marvel.”

“I’m going to hate this joke in a week, won’t I?” Carol groans.

“Hey, you could have gone with Colonel Marvel,” Bucky says with a chuckle. “Ma’am.”

Chapter Text

Karla has been very surprised to be asked to help Mar-Vell and his daughter to rescue his Ex. She crosses over to their ship through the airlock. She could have flown, but since vacuum tends to destroy many things in one’s luggage, she chose the pedestrian way.

Behind her the airlock snaps shut immediately and as she turns around, she sees the purple nothingness enfold the other ships. And they are gone. That leaves her with the Kree family, who wait for her, as she steps out the airlock.

With them is the Eternal, which surprises her for a moment, but she will figure that out. She faces them all with a businesslike demeanour. “Alright, off we go.” She walks past them, watching them out of the corner of her eye.

The great Kree hero looks stoic, but she detects the doubt behind his bland mask. The girl is chewing her lip and doesn’t even notice she keeps drawing blood. And sealing the minute wound again and again. Interesting.

The Eternal gives her a welcoming smile that even reaches his eyes. Impressive.

“Don’t fall over each other in rush to make me feel welcome,” she says dryly.

“You know it’s not about you,” Phyla-Vell shoots back.

“No, about rescuing your mother.” Karla decides to probe the situation a bit. “And it seems that none of you is all too heartbroken about that. It’s just duty that makes you look for her, not affection.”

“Is that a problem?” Mar-Vell asks blandly. Too blandly.

“It’s an observation,” Karla replies. “It could be an advantage or it could be a problem.”

“I’m not here for duty”, the Eternal interjects. The girl takes his hand in a protective gesture. Moonstone notices the broad golden bands around their wrists, which seem familiar. The famous negabands? Asking would be a mistake now, she supposes. So she just shrugs and continues deeper into the ship, feeling the stares in her back. They follow her after a moment.

“We should plan,” Mar-Vell says eventually. By now Karla is quite certain that defaulting to being an icicle is a defence mechanism for him. She files the information for later use.

“What do we know?” she asks. “I was not informed beyond the merest basics.” She could mention that she’s not a soldier to just be sent somewhere and not ask questions. Except all of this is too exciting and promising to make trouble. To have Mar-Vell and his family, including Danvers, owe her… She’s not going to turn away that gift horse.

+It’s such a pity he’s taken,+ Ajes’ha whispers in her mind. +I wouldn’t mind inviting him to my bunk…+

Karla swallows a sigh. Not just a Kree granny with opinions, a horny Kree granny with opinions. She decides to ignore her.

The subject would be waking up soon, so E-Vee knew she needed to catalogue everything beforehand.

“Titanian Eternal female of unknown age,” she dictated. Not the most impressive specimen of her kind or sex—certainly nowhere near close to the likes of Sersi the Avenger, but had she been more powerful, Elysius of Titan would have been much harder, if not impossible to kidnap. “No signs of lasting previous trauma, though there are indications of previous disease. No traces of pathogens found in the subject’s system. Approximately 175cm high, weight in norm assuming human metabolism and muscle structure.”

The Eternal stirred, but didn’t wake yet.

“According to a preliminary scan, the subject has given birth twice,” E-Vee continued. “After cross-examining subject’s DNA, it can be confirmed that her children are indeed Genis and Phyla, both descendant of Captain Mar-Vell of the Colonial Vanguard.”

E-Vee circled the subject, as she dictated. “The subject has brain structures analogous to those found in human and Kree telepaths.” She looks at the screens, showing the subject’s brain in three dimensional images. “Anomaly detected. Most of the subjects memory patterns formed instantaneously at the same time. Apparently artificial memory implantation took place here.”

E-Vee keyed another command and the scan then switched to the view of the subject’s reproductive organs. “Scan’s indicate that subject is still pre-menopausal. Her egg cells appear to be viable and show no anomalous DNA structures. Subject can be a mother to another Kree-Eternal hybrid.”

E-Vee paused, then continued, “While subject could be made docile with appropriate neurosurgery, this option is only to be considered if other means of getting her compliance fail. Subject may respond to emotional manipulation.”

She fiddled at the controls, and the brain diagram changes colours. “Neurotransmitter level indicate either exhaustion or depression. This should make her more susceptible to emotional appeals.”

Maybe, before she wakes the woman, she should try to find out from the data they mined from Titan why this might be the case…

Since they arrived at the intercept point, Carol has become withdrawn. She sticks to the cockpit with only Chewie for company. Melissa has been watching her for a day and then another, and now she is wrestling her own feelings of unworthiness and restlessness. Can she go and bother Carol? Ask her what is wrong? Or would she be overstepping her position?

But who else will check on her? Genis is dealing with his own stuff, and Moondragon is doing her best impression of a forlorn maiden. So, Melissa is clearly the only option.

She knocks on the cockpit door and doesn’t wait for “Enter”, because she doesn’t want Carol to think it’s someone other than her. The older woman turns around. She carefully keeps all expressions from her face, but the flerken on the dashboard is clearly looking morose and unhappy.

“Is everything all right?” Melissa asks, and then mentally kicks herself. It very clearly isn’t.

Carol shrugs. “We’re off from one crisis into another.”

“Part of the job?” Melissa ventures carefully.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Carol replies with a wan smile. “I just hadn’t thought Mar-Vell would be off to save someone so soon. Somehow, I thought we’d have a moment. I should have known better, I guess.”

“I guess it’s something we’re wired to expect?” Melissa says, as she sits down next to Carol.

“I suppose,” Carol says. “The world should stop for us, and all that.”

Melissa looks at her solemnly. “That’s not all, is it?”

Carol doesn’t answer right away. Instead she pets Chewie for a moment in silence. “It’s all sorts of things. I guess… I just have a bad feeling about the whole situation. There’s too many pieces of the puzzle missing.”

“You think it’s more than just a power struggle?” Melissa asks with a frown.

“Yes,” Carol says after a moment. “I’m not cosmically aware and I think my seventh sense is gone – but I have instinct. And my instinct says this isn’t what it looks like…” She sighs.

“The revelation will come out at the worst moment”, Melissa says with a lopsided grin. “As usual.”

“Yes, likely when it’s standing in front of us with a doomsday weapon and gloating,” Carol laughs. Then she adds, somewhat wistfully, “I wish I could have gone with Mar-Vell. I know he’s not a child and is a trained soldier, but…”

“But you know how much can go wrong?”

Carol nods then. “And so does he. That’s something, right?”

“It is.” Melissa steps forward and Chewie reacts by walking up to her and demanding pets and scritches. She complies and grins, looking at the empty space around them. “First we run all hellbent here, and then the Kree aren’t showing up… It makes me feel edgy”, she admits, changing the topic.

“Waiting is a bigger part of war than fighting”, the older woman answers sagely with a lopsided grin. “The armada is still on track. They will arrive in a day or so. They can’t teleport.” Head cocked, she looks down on Melissa. “There are ways to take off the edge, just saying.”

Melissa looks at her for a moment blankly, before understanding dawns. “Huh.” She says to herself. “I guess there are.”

“I’m surprised you come up here to spend your time with the old cat lady”, Carol grins. “I’d have thought you have better things to do.”

“Are you telling me to go and have sex with my boyfriend while I can?” Melissa laughs.

“I’m wondering why you aren’t, yes.” Carol shrugs. “I’d do it, but my boyfriend is absent, unfortunately.”

Melissa fidgets then. “I don’t know if he wants to…”

“Did you ask him?” Carol asks and Melissa blushes like a tomato. “Not exactly… I...” Her voice fails.

“Just ask him,” Carol says and pats Melissa’s back.

“I…” Melissa forces herself to continue. “I don’t trust myself.”

“Why not?” Carol asks. “You’re the one who knows best what you want.”

“Remember what I told you? About my relationship pattern? Genis doesn’t deserve that I treat him like that. I love him too much…” Angrily she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to spend your life celibate,” Carol says, as she gets up. “Do you need a hug?”

“I don’t intend to. I just decided to let Genis make the first move… And he doesn’t. It keeps looking like he wants to, and then he doesn’t.” She steps into Carol’s embrace. “Maybe he does mind what I told him?” She doesn’t think it likely, but what if she’s wrong?

“Or he might be worried that he’ll accidentally steamrollers over your boundaries and is waiting for you to tell him that you’re still interested,” Carol points out. “I very much doubt it even crossed his mind that he could hold it against you what you told him.”

“I’m the last person to tell anybody when my boundaries are threatened”, Melissa remarks. “I don’t think Genis ever would try to.”

“I think you might want to tell him that?” Carol suggests.

Melissa frowns, going still. “Did Genis talk to you? About me? For someone not cosmically aware you seem pretty prescient right now.”

“Will you get angry if I say yes?” Carol asks.

“No.” Melissa shrugs. It’s more that she is feeling flattered. Genis wanted to be considerate. Other than Abe, nobody really did care about her feelings, other than keeping her functional and useful. “Sometimes knowing more isn’t really helping…” Which is probably a nonsequitur.

Chewie is rubbing her face against the small of her back, purring and then headbutts her. Melissa dissolves into giggles. “Matchmaking space cat?”

“Clearly,” Carol chuckles. “Chewie, c’mon let them solve it on their own. They’re both adults.”

Chapter Text

Since the ship is quite big, it’s easy to find a private space. Eros enters one of the empty cabins and looks at the crazy colors of hyperspace. Fate takes strange turns, he thinks, leading him on a very different quest than he had expected.

“You know… Elysius, correct?” Karla Sofen asks, as she approaches him.

“As well as anyone on Titan, I’d say,” Eros replies cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

“I noticed that you were the only one who seems to care about her.” The smile around her lips is very reassuring. Professional. Her emotions don’t echo it, they are detached. She is paying close attention to him. He feels like a rat in a labyrinth for a moment.

He feels a challenge for a moment and then sighs. No, he doesn’t want to play. “I don’t want to be analyzed. Leave me alone.”

The woman doesn’t stop smiling. Her eyes harden. If she was angered by his blank refusal, her emotions don’t show it. She is very much in control of herself. Eros can’t help but begin to feel the stirrings of interest. In a way, she’s like Heather – yet her control is even greater. Heather is quite volatile, even if she’d contradict him fiercely.

“I merely wanted to know more about our mission.”

“You wanted to know more about me.” Eros allows a smile. Everything is better than musing on fate and love.

“You flatter yourself.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and finally he feels stirrings of an emotional response, too. “Not everybody is into obnoxious redheads.”

“No, some of us are into obnoxious brunets, isn’t it so?” Eros counters still maintaining a smile. He knows how to rile up others.

Now she is laughing. “I guess that was really obvious, wasn’t it?” Her emotions are still guarded, but she is not hiding them.

Eros turns back to face her. “Quite, yes. But who am I to tell others about their partners? If this is who you enjoy, then human life is too short to care about those who’d object.”

“Nice of you to give me your blessings,” she replies dryly, “but I can tell you’re trying to change the subject.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a subject”, he shrugs. “I was looking for privacy. You intruded.” Mood swings? Eros shakes his head internally, surprised about the crankiness that suddenly comes up.

Moonstone frowns. “I did. If you want me to leave, I will.” Eros can tell she doesn’t really have any intention of leaving, but now her curiosity is plain to feel and he wonders if wants to indulge her.

“Forgive me, I’ve been rude,” Eros says. “You have been on Titan before, hadn’t you? Have you met Elysius then?”

“I don’t think so.” She shrugs. “I don’t remember seeing any women. Or you.”

“I wasn’t there at the time,” Eros replies. “And after my brother paid a visit… well, there’s fewer and fewer of us every time he decides to drop by.”

“So you don’t lock your women in deep cellars whenever there are visitors?” Karla asks, and he senses she’s only half-joking.

“No,” Eros replies. “I’m afraid that if you hadn’t seen any, they simply didn’t want to interact with you.”

“Like you?” She shrugs. “And here I thought you might prefer to talk to someone who doesn’t have reason to hate you.”

“And why do you think Mar-Vell or Phyla have reasons to hate me?” Eros asks.

“You want to screw his ex? Oh, and you were quite absent when his son died and could have needed someone whose word held more weight than that of that little trailer trash angel.” The woman’s eyes have grown cold. Yet, he still doesn’t feel anything from her – he can’t tell if she is guessing or if she knows about those things.

At the same time, he does gain an insight into her, the feeling of a preemptive strike from a cat faced with a bear. He considers just shrugging it off and ignoring her, but curiosity prompts him to take the offensive. “You hate being vulnerable.”

That takes her by surprise and her answer is bland. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Of course, but not like you do.” He finally turns around to face her fully, instead of her reflection in the window. “Many people just accept that this will happen, and some people build walls around themselves…”

Her eyes show interest, and wariness. Her face, boredom. He smiles. “You on the other hand, know that you will be vulnerable, so instead of just hiding behind walls and distance, you find the chinks in other people’s armor, so you can seize them by the balls before they can ever get close enough to threaten you.”

“So you are analyzing me now?” Karla asks.

“You started it.” Eros smiles, as bright and obnoxiously as he can. If he is judging her correctly, she’ll either storm off now, or let her guard down a little and maybe get round to talking about what she is really interested in.

She steps forward beside him, looking into the window and at their reflections. “It’s what I do.” It’s not apologetic.

“Dog eat dog world?” Eros feels a strange sensation from her, something like… fear mixed with anger. Or hunger?

“Everyone who denies that lies.”

He turns around now, leaning against the cold, smooth glass, looking up at her from his slouching position. “Dogs eat other dogs only if it’s about survival.”

“And humans?” she asks.

“Humans…” He wants to answer with a pithy line and finds he doesn’t have one. He remembers Earth, and all the mixed memories it holds for him, pleasure and pain, fear and friendship… “Humans make no sense.”

“Humans got you in trouble.” So she heard of that. It’s actually a relief. He thinks of Phyla and her worry about him, and he would not have given this wound to this woman to rub salt into it. But if she already knows…

“I got myself in trouble. I wronged them.”

For a moment Moonstone looks pensive. Then she leans in on him, putting both hands on the window beside his head. Her blue eyes bore into his. “You don’t understand them.”

“And what makes you say that?” Eros asks. “Other than my saying that they make no sense, of course.”

Instead of an answer, she kisses him. Her lips are soft, but not warm. Or maybe it’s because he is probably blushing beyond human body temperature. “Would you use your powers on me? If I ask?” she whispers into his ear, before she draws back, sitting down on the bare bed in the room, hands folded in her lap.

Chapter Text

Please check out Chritsmas Special for your dose of cute. We will be returning to our scheduled program after Christmas madness is over.

Chapter Text

Ronan had never thought that he would retire. Accusers usually died in their boots. But one didn’t say no to polite suggestions by the Supreme Intelligence. And if he was honest, he missed Crystal dearly and the opportunity to return to her with the Supremor’s blessing was about the closest thing to bliss he could imagine.

Although, the caveat was “Suggest your successor to me”. And that had truly kicked the Hornet’s nest. He could ignore all the idiots trying to cosy up to him, and the female accusers naked in his bed. Tanalth’s plans were harder to ignore, but fortunately they had dissolved nicely. Now, things had quieted. Too much.

He wasn’t the longest-lived Supreme Accuser in the history of the Empire for nothing. If the hornets are quiet now, it’s because the one that will sting you already sits on your back and the others know their cause is lost. He only had to find that one Hornet, poised where he wouldn’t look. Fortunately, being Accuser involves a lot more than smashing things with a hammer…

Like keeping an eye on everything and notice the thing where the pattern of the normal breaks. It’s a good thing that he likes reading, because otherwise, he’d hate that part of detective work. And reading manifests about military fleets made for pretty boring reading overall. But with the recent alterations of certain patrol routes, something was amiss. And given that it had gone amiss right when he’d announced he was retiring, Ronan smelled something rotten.

So, he’d checked the information on the ships that had been redirected. And to his total lack of surprise there was a pattern forming there and a pattern that was quite suspicious.

He recognized the names of those in charge of those ships, and he didn’t like where he recognized them from. They’d been the supporters of Zarek, back when he’d been Prime Minister. They’d also all have been smart enough to disavow him, as soon as his coup failed, but not all of them had been smart enough to reconsider their stance on pink Kree.

He thinks it’s nothing but paranoia that has him check if Zarek is still imprisoned—Black Bolt had been merciful and the Supreme Intelligence hadn’t seen fit to overturn his ruling, so he ought to be rotting in a prison cell.

And while it seems that he is, when Ronan checks personally, he finds him gone. He lets out a sigh. As an Accuser, he had dealt with matters that were fascinating or gruesome, and then there is this. He has no idea how it is, but the former Prime Minister Zarek, somehow always manages to get himself involved in things that will be either a political disaster or just plainly tedious and frustrating.

Well, now he can add inconvenient to the list.

It can’t be coincidence that the Ex-Minister’s supporters are going to make idiots out of themselves by attempting to invade Earth, and Zarek is missing.

Well, at least this time no one will be there to tell him to stay his hand, and he can finally get rid of this Kree-shaped nuisance. Then, he sends a summons for Hala.

Eros stares at the blonde woman who is sitting in front of him, looking demure under long dark eyelashes. He can see the fine shimmer of her mascara on every hair, and the copper gleam of her eyeshadow. He can’t make out the expression in her eyes, but feels her pale anticipation. It takes him several heartbeats to marshal his thoughts enough to answer.

“I can’t. Moondragon took my power away after I abused it.” He isn’t sure how much Moonstone can know about the whole trial fiasco, but after Equivox and so on, it’s probably obvious how big the mess was.

“How?”

The question is so innocent, he just knows she is leading him. He is in no mood to be led and answers curtly: “I don’t care.”

“You could undo it, if you wanted to. After all, you are an Eternal. You can restore your body. If you want to.” She looks up, making him feel the power of her gaze, piercing, bright, sharp. A knife, backed by an intellect just as lethal.

He has to look away as if struck. And he is struck, because she is right and he never allowed his thoughts to stray that way. “I won’t”, he gasps. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t use it on you. Wouldn’t use it on anyone ever again.”

Her gaze softens, and her expression shows pity. No, he also feels pity from her. “Oh dear. They did a number on you, didn’t they?”

Eros feels quite stunned, so he isn’t protesting when she puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him to the bed. He sits down obediently, while she leaves and returns a few moments later with a glass of water that she puts in to his hand. He takes a sip. It’s just water.

Moonstone sits down opposite of him, on thin air, floating crosslegged like Heather was won’t to do. “So what exactly did your power do?” she asks. Her tone is businesslike, not unsympathetic, but also not calling attention to her.

He realizes she is giving him the business treatment – analyzing him. Knowing her reputation, she’s got ulterior motives. He should probably just get up and leave. Should. But since when did he do what he should do? Carefully, he puts the empty glass down and leans back until he is staring at the ceiling. “Make people feel good. Feel pleasure. Positive feedback in their brains.”

“How is that something for you to fear?”

“Because it is like a drug. And makes people do things they wouldn’t do sober. And I don’t want that.”

“Even if people ask for it? People also take drugs of their own free will.”

That’s true, of course. “But they shouldn’t. It’s harmful.” He didn’t think like that before. “I’ve seen how much harm it does. How much harm I did.”

“I see.” There is a moment of silence. “I didn’t ask you to mess with you. I was curious. ‘Pleasure’ is such a vague concept. I wanted to know what it feels like – the pure and distilled version of it, not just enjoyment of things like food, or music or even sex.”

“I can’t help you.” Put like that, Eros is wondering himself. He knows what people felt when he used his powers – and it wasn’t that different from the other things she named. “I never thought it was something else.”

There is silence again, so long he raises his head a little to see if Karla is still there. She is, still floating, looking pensive. Meeting his gaze, she begins to muse: “It’s the driving force of all life, isn’t it? From the moment you are born.”

“Is it?” Eros asks. “Or is it wanting to avoid pain?”

“Is that a difference?” Karla says. “I have read numerous descriptions of the cessation of pain being the supreme pleasure. If living things didn’t strive to achieve it, they would just lie down and die.”

When he finds nothing to say, she continues: “Of course, sometimes that can be a pleasure, too. Life can be pain. Death would cause it to end.”

“Do you think I want to die?” Eros asks. He does remember thoughts like that in his darkest moments, but there was never any temptation to follow up on them.

“I don’t know. I am not a telepath, or an empath.” She shrugs. “I do know that human societies are built on denying pleasure to the point of making suicide a mortal sin. Tell me if alien societies are any different?”

“Some,” he shrugs. “Certainly not the Kree.”

“Titans?”

What a loaded question. He laughs. “And we come back to my father. Why does everything always come back to fathers?”

“Because that is the one pleasure that people are conditioned to strife for, foregoing all others – approval of the father, be he a literal father or a god. That’s how a society is built – make the members of it work against their own interests for the interest of one.”

Eros wants to scoff. Wants to laugh. Except, it makes so much sense. Memories tumble through his brain. A kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. A girl with brown eyes, her skin dappled in shadows cast by sunbeams slanting through elder trees. Her hair in his hands, her laughter carefree and wild. Eyes staring in death, hair crusted in dried blood from a broken skull, because she stole herself. Mentor, chiding him for following flighty distractions… Light, breaking through windows in a million colors, his hands covered in scars from ropes and stone, transcendent beauty built by the sweat and blood and toil of hundreds…

The alabaster skin of a woman who made herself a doll, because the alternative was to be consumed and spat out.

A child’s voice reciting a prayer to a god of the men and women who took them from their family.

“I suppose you are right,” he says eventually.

“Your power was not evil. Looking for pleasure is not evil.” Karla still eyes him speculatively he notices as he sits up.

“But forcing it on people is.”

She nods. “I don’t disagree.” Her lips quirk into a smile that is almost gentle. “Force almost always is. One can probably find exceptions, if one wants to, badly enough.” 

“That sounds suspiciously like looking for excuses,” Eros says.

“Possibly.” Moonstone shrugs. “What was the excuse to tie you down and beat you within an inch of your life?”

Chapter Text

We're both sick, so we'll post once we're better. Sorry for the delay.

Chapter Text

Genis stretches out as he gets up from behind the view port. It’s not that he can see anything other than blackness and stars, and the Kree fleet is still on its way, but waiting is starting to get to him.

“How long do we have, do you think?” Melissa asks from the door.

“Quite some time, still,” Genis says. “There’s lots of waiting ahead of us.”

She walks in and sits down beside him on the bench, putting her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Genis replied, as he puts an arm over her shoulder. “Um. How is Carol?”

“Fretting about Mar-Vell. I don’t know exactly why, if it’s just normal fretting or if she has a special reason. She didn’t tell me. But she told me to spend time with you while we have time to breath before hell breaks loose.” She cuddles up close to him. “She’s definitely not a normal mom.”

“Well, she’s not really my mom or your mom?” Genis points out. “But I guess that’s good advice. So, what do you want to do?”

“No, she’s just playing mom to us. Kind of.” Melissa turns her head up to kiss him on the cheek. “As for what I want to do…” She pauses. “I guess I mostly want to talk. And tell you that I trust you.”

Genis looks confused for a moment. “Thanks? I never thought you didn’t.”

“Trust you with everything. Including…” She feels herself blush, which is weird. “You know. That.”

Genis frowns, and then hazards a guess, “Sex? Or uh… picking dinner? Because the other-“

“The first one,” Melissa chuckles, glad for the joke. “You’re a bit too omnivorous, sometimes.”

“Only when I have my powers,” Genis points out. “If they’re turned off, I actually do have to pay some attention to what I eat.”

“I’m just teasing you,” Melissa says. “I’m told you’re not much worse or different there to a lot of human men from America your age.”

“So, you will trust me with picking dinner once in a while?” Genis asks with a grin.

“Once in a while,” Melissa says. Then she leans against him, her head against his chest. “But I meant that I trust you. About not taking advantage of me. You don’t have to second guess yourself.”

“And you won’t… I don’t know, be worried that I’ll be stupid if you’re not in the mood?” Genis asks.

“That’s never been a problem with you before,” Melissa points out. “So, I don’t think I ever had to worry about it.” So clearly, she has to get more obvious. “The one I didn’t trust, don’t trust, is me.”

“You know, that makes the two of us,” Genis says. “Uh… I mean, I don’t trust myself. I trust you.”

“So… there might be the obvious solution,” Melissa says after a moment. “We should check with each other.” She smiles. “This worked perfectly fine when we didn’t think about it. But now I was afraid that I was overriding myself and doing what I did because I’m feeling I owe you not because I love you – and you didn’t deserve that.”

“There should be lessons on this, or a manual,” Genis says after a moment. “This is really much harder than you’d have thought. The relationship thing.”

Melissa laughs. “There are tons of manuals on it. They just don’t help because people are different.”

“Ah, so if we want a manual, we have to write our own,” Genis says with a laugh. “Maybe our future selves could deliver one to us from the future?”

“In that case, we better start writing it?” Melissa rises on tiptoes and gives him another kiss. A long kiss…

Mar-Vell and Phyla watch the space outside of the spaceship in silence. It’s vast and dark, and the stars seem tiny and meaningless, swallowed by the endless night. They are anything but—each burns brightly and some of them warm life-giving worlds. It’s so easy to lose sight of that. To lose sight of hope and only focus on the darkness, until there’s nothing left, not even the memory of light.

“What do you think they want with Mother?” Phyla asks.

“It depends who has kidnapped her,” her father answers. “We are not a monolith, regardless of what the Empire would want you to believe. Perhaps, someone wishes to experiment. Perhaps, she’s a hostage. We’ll know when we get there.”

“And you’re so calm about this,” she muses half to herself.

“Letting my emotions take control would not serve any useful purpose,” Mar-Vell replies.

“It’s just… neither me, nor Genis can do that,” Phyla says.

“It’s something you learn,” Mar-Vell answers. “No one is born knowing how to stay calm in situations like this. It takes years of being placed in situations that are painful but require you to remain clear-headed. And even then, not everyone learns this approach.”

“You can show your emotions and not let them control you, though,” Phyla replies.

“Perhaps you can do that with your negative emotions, but I don’t know if I can,” Mar-Vell says after a moment.

Phyla hesitates, before saying, “I’m sorry.” She isn’t sure what else she can say to him.

“It’s alright.” Mar-Vell puts his hand on her shoulder. She looks away.

The silence starts to feel oppressive, but Phyla doesn’t know how to break it.

Suddenly her father tenses and then opens his mouth, before closing it again. He turns to leave.

“Wait,” Phyla says, and puts her hand on his shoulder. “If you wanted to ask me something, don’t be afraid that my feelings will be hurt.”

“I think this is a good reason not to ask something,” Mar-Vell points out. He hesitates. “I don’t know you. So far, I always said the wrong things around you, and I have no right to question your choices. You are grown up and I… can’t just walk into your life and expect you to welcome me, when it cost you so much to be my daughter.”

“But it’s also not your fault,” Phyla says. “I know this and so do you. No one asked you, ever, if you want to be my father, or Genis’s or Hulkling’s. You just came back to life and children were thrust upon you.”

Her father looks away. Phyla remembers how he held her after she went into her memories and just wanted everything to end, that he never blamed her or held her accountable for the things she did… and she can’t help herself and hugs him. “You don’t have to be perfect. You are here now, and you do your best. Awkward moments happen, they are nobody’s fault.”

“I guess this is one more thing I need to learn,” he says after a moment, as he hugs her back.

Norbert sighs. Then, since it doesn’t appear to do anything, he sighs again. No, still not helping at all. He can’t help but fret. What if Karla decides to brainwash Mar-Vell, Phyla-Vell and Eros into her minions and run off to become a space pirate queen?

He sighs once more, this time over how stupid his own idea is. Being a space pirate queen is dangerous and work. Karla wouldn’t do anything this stupid. But she might get hurt. True, the likelihood of that happening in a fight with the Kree is significantly lower now that they made sure they can’t over-ride the Moonstone, but it’s there.

And, if he’s going to be honest, he just misses her. He’d prefer to have her around, being superior and sardonic. It’s not even about having someone extremely powerful, but more about her being part of his life by now. A somewhat different part of his life. He also misses that—the touch of her hand, even if it’s armored; the taste of her lips…

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Bert,” Abe says as he sits down next to Norbert. “What’s on your mind?”

“Stuff,” Norbert says. “Emotional stuff.” Then, he sighs again.

“OK, if you want to talk, you know where I am,” Abe says, as he gets up.

“Did I say I don’t want to talk?” Norbert asks.

“Well, no, but your answer was a pretty clear non-answer,” Abe replies.

Norbert has to admit that has, indeed, been the case. “OK, I don’t particularly want to talk about it, but I also do want to.” He pauses for a moment, and announces, “I miss Karla.”

Nothing terrible happens. No lumberjack with chainsaws for hands descends from the ceiling to take away Norbert’s man-card. Abe makes a sympathetic noise and says, “Yeah, you have to get used to that part of relationships.”

Norbert nods. It’s pretty sound advice, and all he can really expect at this point. But there’s the other thing that he noticed. That he was afraid of telling Abe—Abe the Human Teddy Bear—about how he felt. Because he was worried that he, a genius, would seem not manly enough because he was having perfectly natural feelings. He then adds, “Also, do you know what to do when you discover you’re having a case of idiocy?”

“That depends what I’m being an idiot about,” Abe says.

Looks like he won’t be avoiding explaining himself. “I caught myself worrying that you’d think I’m whining and silly, and… you know, because I was moping about Karla.”

“I think you did what you should do in this case already,” Abe says after a moment. “You ignored that because you knew I wouldn’t do that, and it’s just stuff you pick up from living on Earth.”

“You live on Earth, too”, Norbert points out.

“Yes, but I failed at everything expected from me so thoroughly that I just stopped caring eventually.” Abe smiles wryly. “It actually makes life easier.”

Chapter Text

Elysius wakes up from one moment to the other. She opens her eyes and sees a greyish metal ceiling above her. As she sits up, she finds herself on a floor made from a similar material. It’s cold and her clothing is clammy, as if it was moist before.

She cannot remember how she got here. She doesn’t know this place. Around her, the walls are featureless, and she cannot make out a door.

Finally, adrenalin spikes and she jumps up, running at a random wall and hammering against it. “Let me out!”

There is no reaction. The wall does not give, and her hands start to hurt, so she stops. Taking deep breaths, she tries to get over her panic and think.

Her last memory was being on Titan, sitting in her room, reading her children’s journals and being appalled at the unhappiness in them. There was a knock at the door and when she asked the person to enter, it was Mentor. She had expected him, since he had asked for her to contact him and had not done so.

She told him to leave, but he came closer and she ignored him. Then, the memory stops. Everything stops.

He must have incapacitated her. But that makes no sense.

“ISAAC? ISAAC?” No answer again. Elysius shudders. Once more, she starts hitting the wall, with all her considerable strength – she might not be a superhero or a fighter, but she is an Eternal. The wall doesn’t budge.

She takes a deep breath and leans her forehead against the wall. Her skin is clammy and sticks. She has been sweating. There are also several painful points along her hairline. Her fingers come away bloody. Her heartrate spikes again.

The vague idea that she is being kept on Titan because Mar-Vell wants vengeance on her, is dissipating. They wouldn’t hurt her like that. She likely has been taken from home. Why? Who? Why would Mentor help them?

“Settle down, please,” a feminine voice, void of any passion sounds. “There are some things I need to discuss with you, but it won’t do, if you’re trying to kill me.”

Elysius opens her mouth to tell that bitch that she’s kriffing going to end her, but reconsiders. She’s trapped by an unknown. Who will not enter unless she thinks Elysius won’t harm her.

“Fine,” she says, stepping away from the wall. “But I will only discuss with you in person.”

“Not just now.”

Elysius sits down, both to look less aggressive, and to concentrate. She has other senses, not just eyes and ears… But before she reaches out, she takes stock of her body. There are about a hundred pinpricks all over it, entering tissues, bones, organs, even her brain. All of them are so tiny they didn’t damage her, except she also notices that samples have been taken. Just one or two cells, she replaces them easily enough, and closes the holes they left. The invasiveness of the procedure makes her shudder. “Why should I even talk to you? I’m not a test subject. I won’t help you with whatever you want to do with what you took from me.”

There is a specific kind of cell that was also taken and connected to what she read before being kidnapped, it makes her blood grow colder even.

“Perhaps you’d like to watch something before you decide,” the voice replies. The wall before Elysius slides open to reveal a screen that comes to life.

Curiosity killed the… small furry mammal, Elysius remembers. Of course, she looks. But she also tries to send her senses outward and find the person who is talking to her. And she hits on another metaphor involving small furry mammals, because she notices someone who is feeling incredibly satisfied and full of anticipatory glee.

So, when the image of Mar-Vell and… oh what is her name? They’d met sometime after Mar-Vell’s funeral—she hadn’t made it and was quite distraught. Elysius had also not been at her best, so she only had a vague memory of there being some relation between the two. Cousins? Was it cousins?

They seem certainly close enough, with her holding a hand on Mar-Vell’s shoulder, while his face shows that stone-cold anger of his. To most people he’d look emotionless, but she knows him. She’s seen him at his best and worst and she knows he is furious and trying not to show it. It makes her afraid, and even distracts her from the shock she ought to feel at seeing him alive. And healthy. Dressed like a man from Earth. Cuddling with the blonde woman.

Yet, all she knows is “He wants to kill me.” He wouldn’t try. He wouldn’t even yell at her, but deep inside, he wants to blast her to atoms. She closes her eyes and looks away.

Love is so terribly fragile. So easy for it to turn into other things. Like hate. Like… She howls out her anguish, as something dawns on her, something terrifying.

Love can also change you, if you let it. And she had. She’d made herself into a priestess to a dead man. “Pedestals are cold places” Mentor had told her. But it’s so much worse, what she’d done. She’d blinded herself to the harm she was causing—she’d driven her children away, took their freedom in an attempt to mould them like clay. But they’d never been clay. They’d been flesh and bone, and blood. So fragile.

She remembers the brief moment when she held each of them: red, wailing new-borns, and how much she’d loved them then. And then, out of love, out of fear, she’d given them to Mentor to flash grow them. She’d wanted them safe.

And look at how that worked out.

How she forgot Mar-Vell like this, the man, the warrior. And just remembered the dying god. She curls up on the ground. Let them cut her up. Let them steal her children. Nobody could make a worse parent than she did.

The voice drones on, and she doesn’t listen, just notices at the back of her head that the smugness disappeared and is replaced by first confusion and then worry.

In her stupor she barely notices that the door opens and someone comes in. A hand reaches for her wrist and then her neck. She feels like a pliable doll, as she is rolled on her back, looking up at a pale blonde woman. Pink Kree. Not human. An oddness is around her, but she fails to figure it out.

“You should rest,” the Kree says. “You’ve had a hard day. We can talk again tomorrow.”

There’s a syringe in her hand and that at least stirs Elysius into action. She maybe half-blinded by tears, but her fist still connects with the Kree’s chin. It makes her stumble and Elysius rises to her feet, lunging at the Kree.

It’s a mistake.

The door closes—she should have made it for it. And while she hesitates, distracted by the door, the Kree stabs the syringe into her arm.

Rick has mulled over the situation in all possible directions, and he keeps coming to the same conclusion over and over. He should invite Una to live with him and Marlo, as counter-intuitive as it sounds. In fact, Rick can hear a chorus of dude-bros from ages past screaming at him that it’s a bad bad idea. Inviting a beautiful woman to live with you without asking your wife?

Of course, Rick is ahead of his internal dude-bro chorus—years of experience had taught him that the way of dealing with such an issue is simply asking Marlo first.

There’s also the fact that he’s quite certain Una is not into him at all.

So, he’d managed to weasel himself into using space Skype on Carol’s computer and has in fact asked Marlo. It’s not like he has anything better to do, while everyone waits for the giant space battle. So, he made a call, and perhaps not precisely asked Marlo, but rather only told her that Una wants to come back to Earth and she told him to ask her if she wants to stay with them until she finds a place.

So, with his wife’s blessing, Rick goes to ask Una.

“That’s very… nice and unexpected of you,” Una eventually says.

“Well, we have a guest bedroom, which I doubt Melissa and Genis have,” Rick replies with a shrug. “And you’re still avoiding Marv like the plague—really, he’s not going to eat you.”

Una sighs. “It’s easy for you to say,” she grumbles. “You’re not the one who is finding out just in how many ways her father had been pathetic. I’ve always known he was a jerk. And now, seeing Mar-Vell… All he had to do was be himself, and he’d have people throwing themselves at him.”

Rick stares. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I realized my father started his whole stupid vendetta, because he was jealous of the fact that Mar-Vell was more likeable,” Una explains patiently.

That’s really stupid reason. So much for ‘nice guys finish last’. It’s not that Mar-Vell is ugly, but Rick knows enough to be sure his looks are not the kind that’d make him stand out.

He is quite certain Yon-Rogg was pathetic, though.

“Well, it could have been worse?” Rick offers finally.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Una replies. “He could have started a vendetta against a- a- snacks vendor or a librarian.”

“There you have it,” Rick replies. “It can always get worse.”

Chapter Text

Really sorry about this, but we're having a busy period in RL right now  and since there's just no time for us to rewrite certain things that need rewriting we will come back just when it's less hectic.

Chapter Text

Eros comes to in the machine bay, breathing hard, forehead pressed to the cold metal wall. There is a dent in the surface, where his elbows, hands and head slammed into it. He’s covered in cold sweat, and vaguely remembers jumping up and running away blindly, after Moonstone made her cold observation.

He is so tense his shoulders and back are cramping, and he can’t make himself relax. He knows it’s a dangerous thought he is fighting, one that will lead him on a road he doesn’t want to walk. There’s something else, too. Memories of the things that happened to him, of the conviction that it’s right…

Then, running steps interrupt him, and Phyla flings herself at him, embracing him fiercely. Her warmth and love and worry flood him through their bond, loosening the rigid stance. He collapses into her arms and she catches him, lowering him down carefully so he can lean against her.

“I won’t do it,” he says softly. “I won’t become my brother. No matter what it costs me.” He can feel her confusion, as she strokes his hair.

“You won’t. Not ever.” There’s conviction behind it, even though she doesn’t understand him at all.

Eros can’t answer. He’s still too shaken, but he slowly relaxes, resting against her.

More steps, these slow and measured enter the machine bay. He looks up and finds Moonstone coming in, crouching down beside them.

Phyla tenses, like a kitten puffing up and hissing. “What did you do to him?”

Nothing actually, nothing that Eros didn’t do to himself, but he doesn’t want to spell it out. He doesn’t want her to force him to do more self-discovery, so he is content with Phyla driving her away.

“Tell him his suffering was in service to a lie.” There’s actual pity in her voice.

Eros keeps his face averted, trying to shut his ears.

“He was atoning for his crimes.” Phyla sounds careful, but no longer hostile.

“Seeing justice served, on his own flesh and blood?”

Eros can’t see what Phyla does. It seems to encourage Karla Sofen, because she continues: “Justice is just a construct to enable the functioning of societies. It’s necessary that way. It isn’t a cosmic constant, beyond reproach.”

At least that’s familiar ground. If that’s what she thinks is at the root of his problem, she’s wrong. Lessons from the past come back to him and he sits up. “Of course not. But that isn’t what happened then.”

“What is it then?”

Can he say he doesn’t want to talk about it? He eyes Moonstone, her clear, cold gaze, the determination shining in her eyes. For a moment, he wonders what all of this is to her, other than a way to pass the time.

His hesitation is too long and Phyla answers instead. “It’s about forgiveness.”

A faint smile crinkles Moonstone’s cheeks. “Whose?”

Eros gets up. “Of those I wronged.” He isn’t sure what he wants to do, other than stop her from towering over him. She can tell, because she stays in her crouch, looking up at him, ceding the higher ground.

“I need that explained,” she says softly. “It doesn’t make sense to an unapologetic villain like me.”

Phyla stares and Eros grins. “Are you?”

Her mouth quirks. “So I told myself.”

E-Vee lets the autopilot steer the spaceship into the docking bay. Her Mims are transporting the sedated Eternal out of the cell, and she’s gathering up her reports. Her employer will doubtlessly want to hear the details, though E-Vee doubts he will understand them.

She marches out of the ship with her datapad, the Mims with the subject trailing behind her. Zarek is waiting for her, just like she’d expected. A blue-skinned Kree, he looks regal enough and knows it. Still, he is her ticket back to the Kree Empire, so she will take a Blue puffed up on his own self-importance.

“Will she cooperate?” he asks, nodding in the direction of the subject.

“No,” E-Vee says. “But that’s why you had me strengthen the serum, didn’t you?”

The millennia flower is a rare thing, but the Accusers had been using a synthesized, less potent chemical based on it for their conditioning process. It doesn’t remove all memories, but it did alter their personalities and goals to be more focused on the good of the Kree.

“And this will work?” Zarek asks. “The millennia bloom failed to work on that half-human accident—Ms Marvel, was it?”

E-Vee shrugs. “I’ve been adjusting it to better suit the Eternal physiology and increased it’s potency. She will be a blank slate, ready for indoctrination, once it’s administered. I just need to make a few final adjustments.”

“Right,” Zarek says. “And what about her? What state is she in?”

“Adequate for more pregnancies,” E-Vee replies. “I can keep her healthy as long as it takes.”

Zarek looks towards the subject again, and sighs. “That we’d have to stoop so low to need mongrel children.”

“As long as one parent is Kree, they will be Kree,” E-Vee replies blandly. She doesn’t let any irritation creep into her voice, and reminds herself that this is her ticket back to the Kree Empire. She needs him to succeed to be pardoned.

Zarek – or rather Minister Zarek, he refuses to acknowledge his demotion – doesn’t trust E-Vee all that much. Sure, she’s impressive with the science, but she knows nothing about psychology. He watches the footage of the Eternal woman, and feels validated. How simple, and how quickly the Doc gave up.

Probably all eager to rewrite the woman’s brain so she’s as quiet and docile as the Mims and prove she’s better at this than Ronan and the Supreme Intelligence who both failed at these attempts. But Zarek knows that the true mark of the master is to avoid such crude methods all together.

Still, the thought of the Supreme Grand Accuser leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. For someone who shouldn’t have ever been more than a blunt tool—too crippled by their own emotions—the old bastard somehow always ended up on top. It was Zarek who bore the brunt of the Supreme Intelligence’s wrath for their plot all those years ago, and Ronan kept his position somehow.

Sometimes, he’d wondered if Ronan hadn’t joined the plot on the Supermor’s orders and it hadn’t been one of the many games it had played.

Still, that was in the past. Now, he had to make this woman see what was in her best interest – because even if she was just a breeding specimen, she was an Eternal and they had power. Telepathy among others, according to what E-Vee had noticed. Useful.

He had to wonder it could be replicated in her children. But he’d best bury such thoughts before speaking with the Eternal. He isn’t entirely sure what she had intended with creating her children, and there is a slim chance that they may not have been some sort of defence for Titan against Thanos.

Once more, he looks at the specimen’s reactions. Her shock, her pain and how she shut herself down once she saw the traitor. In his experience, jealousy provokes anger, or at most tears. Her reaction wasn’t jealousy. It was pure despair, but why?

Jealousy requires hope, he supposes. Hope that some sort of a relationship is possible—but clearly, the Eternal doesn’t see it that way. So he likely cannot play on her feelings towards the traitor and he can’t be sure she has any sort of maternal instinct that can be used.

If she lost hope, then he has to find a way to rekindle it. Maybe an offer of a position, of money or other compensations in the Kree Empire would work? But it is conjecture. He will have to be careful and try to discern her levers without giving away how little he knows.

Fortunately, he has time. She has yet to wake up.

Chapter Text

The Eternal finally starts stirring after what seems like a very boring eternity. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at him blearily. Then, she seems to become aware of her surroundings and - to Zarek’s surprise - sighs. “You’re not getting whatever you want out of me. I can make myself infertile with a thought.”

“No, no, no.” He raises his hands. “Don’t do anything you will regret later.” Let her believe she has an angle now. It will make her more inclined to listen and look for an out.

“Why would you think I would regret it?” she asks. “Do you think me a brood mare? I already have two children—why would I want more?”

“You are an Eternal. You will live thousands of years. Can you be sure you won’t change your mind farther down the line?” He lets that sink in and adds: “Do you want to make a decision now that will impact you forever?”

“Like I hadn’t made those already,” she says angrily. “Do you think me a child?”

“Of course not. But I hope you will hear me out before you commit yourself to a course of action.” He motions towards to the door, where a Mim enters and brings chairs and a table, and then also food and something to drink. “Allow me to explain, please.”

“You want weapons,” she snarls. “I’m not stupid.”

Zarek smiles his most winning smile. “I’m not going to deny that. But what do you want? We could help each other.”

That earns him an incredulous look. “You can’t give me any of the things I’d want.”

He leans back. “No? Nothing?”

“Nothing,” she says firmly and presses her mouth into a thin line. But then she slips, as he thought she would and adds, “You can’t undo the damage I did to my children. You can’t make it so that Mar-Vell never died and I’d never make any of the mistakes I did.”

So, she had a maternal instinct.

“I’ll be frank with you,” he said, fully intending to lie about everything that would come out of his mouth next, “I’m not the one who decided on this plan, and I can do nothing to stop it. Our benefactor wants Ronan’s position and he will have E-Vee impregnate you regardless. But I can ensure that you will be more than a womb to those children. Help me help you.”

“I could kill you.” By way of making an argument, she picks up the table with one hand and throws it across the room, so hard the metal bends and splinters. While he still stares, she grabs the front of his robes and lifts him up. She’s much stronger than a Kree woman. “Call your soldiers, but what good will they do you, when you are dead?”

Zarek flinches. He can’t really help that—he’s not a soldier, and he’s not used to being threatened. But he doesn’t lose his head.

“You could kill me,” he says. “But then there will be no one here on your side. E-Vee only sees you as a specimen for her experiments, and for Ultimus you are a means to an end. I’m the only person who can help you.”

“Oh please,” the Eternal snorts. “You’re saying anything you can think of to make me spare you.”

It’s her mistake that she pauses to speak, that she lets him keep her talking. He may not be a soldier, but he is Kree and he’d been Prime Minister long enough to learn how to protect himself. There’s a device hidden in his sleeve, which he slides out with a careful flick of his wrist and then brings it down to the side of her neck.

She may be Eternal, but E-Vee had enough information on her to develop better narcotics for her biology. The woman’s eyes roll up in her head and she collapses.

He picks himself up and steps away from the fallen woman. It’s a pity she’s so unreasonable, but they will make do. 

“Supreme High Accuser?” Hala asks. She’s a good Accuser, devoted to the Kree and the Supreme Intelligence, and the ideals of justice. Brave, decisive and rash. Easily blinded by her emotions. It’s a flaw they all share, and the other reason why Ronan is resigning from his post, before he does any more damage than he’d already done.

The Kree need someone better than him at the side of the Supreme Intelligence, even if the Supreme Intelligence themselves didn’t.

“Tanalth was always ambitious,” he says, as he scans the report. “She’s smart, as smart as Korath was, but she’s too arrogant and too ruthless. As she’d so kindly demonstrated.”

“Ruthlessness has served us well,” Hala counters.

Ronan snorts. “On occasions, yes. On other occasions, it has given us a year with a new prime minister almost every day.”

“But that’s not why you called me, is it?” Hala asks. She’s intelligent too—not nearly as brilliant as Tanalth, but even in an empire as vast as the Kree Empire, brains like this are rare.

“Someone has redirected a fleet towards Earth,” he says. “We’ll track down the fleet.” He weighs his hammer in his hand for a moment. “I believe it’s time I express my displeasure.”

“With a hammer?” Hala asks dryly.

“It’s blunt, but it gets the point across,” Ronan answers.

“Before we leave, sir, may I ask a question?” Hala says.

“I’d say you may, but you already did,” Ronan replies drily. He pauses, “But you may ask another.”

 “You could have avoided the infighting, if you’d announce me as a successor,” she says. “You can still do it. But you won’t. Why?”

“Because the Kree Empire needs to change,” Ronan says. “And you and I have both been taught how to uphold its laws. We cannot change them.”

“You have someone in mind, don’t you, sir?” Hala asks.

Ronan nods. “Yes. He won’t like it, but he will agree. Eventually.”