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Chapter Text

She was so close now that the burn was also she could feel. The touch of someone reaching for her unable to break through the pain. The last thing she saw as she sank into the beast’s maw was a white flash of something leaving her. A single discordant note of a human yell in the cacophony of metallic scraping and molten bubbling.
And then she did what Scrapsylvanians do best, she went numb.
Sometime lifetimes away she came back to her body as little rat hands pushed her mouth open. Kočka’s claws scratched into her cracked lips reminding her of the taste of her own blood. As her mouth was opened further and her tongue rolled out she tasted dirt. At least she knew which way was down. She could see blurry shapes as one of her eyes started to focus. And then there was metal against her teeth and water following. She was too tired to swallow so she just held it in her mouth, letting her tongue and gums soak it in. Slowly and painfully she drank what was left.
“Thank you Kočka” she rasped.
There was more water. As the blood came rushing back to her limbs, so did the memories. Burning, fire, metal, gnashing, screaming, falling. Her ship was not under her as she crashed to the ground, just the debris that had been broken off in the initial attack. It was enough to prevent her from reaching terminal velocity, though. She still felt the bones break.
And then there was crawling. Elbows and knees and then dragging her limp body with torn open palms. Ludmila’s rat crawling out from beneath her armor.
The newly hydrated Marya turned onto her back to look at the sky. Several moons looked back.
“Did we do it Kočka, is this Zood?”
He didn’t talk but he understood so receiving no response was unexpected.

A human figure approached. It was patchwork scrap perfectly shaped.
“Ah, a body for the queen.” it spoke breathy and mechanical
“Where is Ludmila?” asked the former captain in a croak.
“You will see her soon enough Marya.”

She was tended to. She allowed only what would keep her alive choosing to instead endure many of the burns, cuts, and broken ribs as her punishment. She would allow herself to live but she did not deserve it.

“Mila-” she did not see the child she put in the sky too early she instead saw a woman more worn than her.
“Marya! Is it really you?” Ludmila ran close to hug her tight, “I’ve been waiting for so long.”
“I see, you’ve grown.”
“No, it has been much longer than it looks.”
“Mila, I’m so sorry. I should not have let you fly. I should have kept you safe. I should have been next to you when Straka came.”
“It’s okay, you’re here now.”
Marya sobbed into the other woman.
“Oh, I have a gift.”
“Kočka! My little rat! How did you survive? Oh you are so smart!”
“Mila, is this Zood? It’s so different from what I expected.”
“No, this is Zern, Zood’s twin.”
“We must go back! We must tell Comfrey!”
“No, we can not go back. We are stranded. And- I am the steward of this place. I give the scrap new life. I give the old life new scrap.”

Chapter Text

McCloud tends to Marya’s burns. She’s out cold as the Zephyr drags on to Scrapsylvania. Her ruined clothes have been changed, her wounds bandaged, the ash and coal soot washed out of her hair. She will know that she was not abandoned. Robbed of the chance to do her duty, robbed of her agency, and in its place given the privilege to live.
Aunty Zuzu cursed McCloud’s name as she flew away just as suddenly as she had arrived. She gives up her own bedroom for Marya. The shrine to McCloud and the Wind Riders is kept separate from Marya’s grief. Aunty Zuzu makes the shell of the captain eat and bathe. The tinker’s soul only returns to her in nightmares, nothing but guilt and vengeance remaining. For weeks the hollow husk is somehow kept alive.
Marya returns to herself because her aunt needs help. In her older years it is harder for her to care for two, so as a dutiful niece Marya does dishes, cleans floors, and repairs clothes.
Eventually the children come calling. They want stories of the local wind rider. They want the crack mechanic to take a look at their first projects. But the children of Scrapsylvania know better than to ask why Marya cries when she adjusts their technique.
Once Marya learns the names of her young neighbors she starts to panic. They have become full vulnerable people that she has corrupted. Her naivety spread through Monty’s books. She reminds them that the scrap is all they need, all they deserve. There can be joy and amusement at home in the scrap.
Aunty Zuzu holds her hand when people talk about leaving. Reminds her that you can not force them to stay. That she tried. Marya knows she should have listened.
When the nightmares are too much to bear Marya wakes up her Aunt. Like a child scared of the dark she sits at the foot of the bed and listens to old folk tales until she falls asleep again.
Her exile from the sky never left her without a home. She knows that every painful minute of the past decade she was loved, even though she did not deserve it.

Chapter Text

Olethra had been running across the deck to her mech.
“Don't you touch her!” Maxwell yelled as he tackled the figure off of Olethra and onto the ground.
The assailant laughed, knowing he had gotten under the fighter's skin. The laugh was halted by a punch to his jaw. And then another. And another. Maxwell hit him until he felt the bones crack under his fists. The man's face was a bloody puddle.
Then came the piercing whistle.
Max's next hit was grabbed out of the air.
“That's enough Gotch!” Van scolded
Max raised his other fist. The tentacle around his arm went around his torso and Van pulled him towards her. She grabbed the other arm with her human hand.
“I said that's enough!”
Maxwell strained trying to break out of the grapple but Van just held him close.
Her breath grounding the young man's adrenaline rich body.
Suddenly his body felt very heavy and he sank against the bosun.
Van's voice whispered in his ear, “You gotta learn when to stop, kid. We've got enough death wishes on this ship already.”
Max looked around and saw Daisuke, Marya, and even Dawderdale looking at him with horror.
Van lowered her voice, “they don't get it, right? ‘Cause they don't fight with their hands. But us, we gotta keep ‘em safe and we can't do that if we're losing our bleedin’ minds every goddamn time we get pissed off.”
Van turned him slightly so he could see Daisuke helping Monty tend to Olethra's wounds. Everything that seemed like pure chaos moments ago was well in hand.
Van hugged him tight for a moment. When their heartbeats matched she turned the young man around to face her and held him at arms length.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I'm okay. I'm sorry I lost my composure.
“I don't care about your composure, I care about you."
“I- thank you."
“You're welcome. Just don't get used to me being this nice to you.”
"Are you okay?"
“Yeah, just a little mad that you beat me to the punch. I would'a liked to hit the guy too."

Chapter Text

Comfrey had Daisuke against the wall as soon as they stepped into her old quarters. She held his face as she kissed him to make up for the years apart. Daisuke pulled her away to catch his breath.
Comfrey stepped away using the pause to take off her jacket and sit at her desk. She swiveled the chair to point at Daisuke as he walked across the room. He took a careful seat on the edge of the bed. He sat his hat aside and took off his outer most layer.
“So, how'd you do it?”
She was met with a confused look from her ex-husband.
“Get the whole gang back together and get here, how'd you do it?”
“Oh. I'll be honest with you, I haven't done anything.”
“Give yourself some credit, there's a reason I told Olethra to find you.”
“I just point my gun and shoot.”
“Come on, you guys couldn't have followed me here without some leadership.”
“That wasn't me.”
Comfrey’s eyes lit up, “Olethra!”
“A little bit. Gotch actually put the whole thing together. He got the Zephyr and found Olethra.
“The Gotch Show, huh." Comfrey responded disappointed.
“Yeah, I mean Junker is still the captain and Van runs the crew." He instinctively shuttered at the memory of cold fingers on his neck. "I do wish Van ran the crew a little tighter.”

“I'm not in charge. I would never want to be in charge. I'm here to take care of Olethra and find you."
"I know that," Comfrey paused, "I guess I thought you were the only one who would actually come."

Chapter Text

The early morning view on the Zephyr was something that still captured Torse’s attention even after his many travels. The sunrise caught Maxwell’s skin in a way that seemed to make it glow. The landscape of any given day providing the ideal backdrop to his friend’s workout.
There was a fluidity in the young Gotch’s stretches that contrasted his normal demeanor. One movement into the next and slowly creating a new form. Holding tension and rolling it to a different part of his body. Nothing lost, nothing gained, a body at perfect equilibrium.
The crew, mostly still asleep, unable to disrupt with their cacophonous din. It wasn’t silent. The engines churned, Bert clattered around in the galley, the wind pulled ropes, the contents of the box Torse sat on rattled around. Even Maxwell made small noises grunting and groaning when he angered a sore spot or held a position for longer than usual. It was enough sound that Torse didn’t feel bad interrupting.
“I always find these mornings with you especially beautiful.”
“Ah yes,” Said Maxwell, looking around the best he could, considering that he was holding himself parallel to the deck, “The scenery from up here is quite nice.”
“Mhm. But you are quite beautiful as well.”
Maxwell’s stance faltered slightly before he came out of his plank.
“You’re kind,” Maxwell ran his hand against the stubble on his cheeks, “but I haven’t even cleaned up for today.”
“I don’t care about that. Although, your usual appearance is” Torse paused for a moment to ensure that his tone is fond, “disciplined.”
“Thank you. I think you put yourself together well.”
Torse’s iron heart melts a little. His hasty repairs feel slightly more sturdy. A gear whirrs faster than it should.