Disclaimer: I disclaim and deny everything herein, save for my own responsibility. I don’t own the characters or situations; that all belongs to Marvel Entertainment. It’s going to get uncomfortable here as we are dealing with the emotional aftermath of battles and intrigues. Consider this your official ANGST warning. If you don’t want to see good people deal with grief badly, go read something else. I’m not apologizing later.

What Has Come Before: The young heroes of The Legacy have suffered a series of losses recently, several of their number now missing in action with no sign of their returning any time soon. In their wake is the uncertainty of their friends and families. Some cling to hope, others work desperately to find them, and a few teeter on the edge of despair.

War of the Worlds: Missing In Action

The following takes place within a single 24-hour period,

One week after the events of A Legacy of Justice and

concurrently with A Stark and Savage Solution, Legacy 5,

and Mission Into the Unknown

Wilson Residence, West Quarter

5:30 am

As was her habit, Sarah Rogers awoke before her alarm clock. She instinctively reached out and shut the alarm off before the first ring finished. Slipping from her bed, she quickly grasped up the tracksuit she'd laid out for herself the previous night, changing into it with practiced efficiency. Within less than a minute she was finished and downstairs (pausing for only a couple seconds to peek through her adoptive sister's door, ensuring she was still asleep), soundlessly padding through the living conventional looking living room and out the front door.

Once outside, Sarah commenced with a series of stretches, wincing slightly at the number of times her joints snapped and cracked in the process. The tension was eased away by this, her limbs soon loosened and back to their normal, limber state. This warm-up done, she commenced her normal pre-dawn run about the full, ten-mile perimeter of Little Midgard. In younger days, just before her powers kicked in, she could manage at best a fifth of that on these runs before simple exhaustion forced her to stop.

Oddly, her parents didn't find her tendency towards physical activity surprising or unusual, at least in studied contrast to her sister's less than enthusiastic performance on the training fields. Not that they treated Jessie any different than herself for it, thank god. She felt strange enough that so many of their elders, some more overtly than others, were quietly maneuvering her into positions of greater and greater responsibility never mind actually deferring to her on occasion.

She these thoughts from her mind and instead concentrate on her jogging, making sure she didn't push herself nearly as hard as she might otherwise be tempted to. Even at this relatively easy pace, she still managed to complete the perimeter in less than ninety minutes.

This allowed her to take in some of the changes visible in the community. The lights around the hangers on the southern edge the town never dimmed, particularly around number Nine. Since the return of Colonel Grimm and his team last week, the activity in and around there had been nothing short of frantic. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Jo Rhodes, Matrix, or Doom lately; she’d bet a week’s mucking the stables they were all buzzing about there day and night.

The eastern quarter of the town was its usual quiet self that morning, occupied mainly by businesses and the like. The two most notable buildings were the domed Civic Center and the multi-spired Cathedral. It was the latter that actually caught her eye that morning, given a three-mast square-rigger was hovering over the building. Sarah instantly recognized it as Captain Wagner’s ethership, Das Bamf Boot, evidentially making a port visit from Limbo. Doubtlessly Captain Wagner himself, perhaps with his daughter, were inside the chapel itself in private communion with Sister Samson and her acolytes. The gossip had it the Sister was petitioning Wagner to accept vows or something. How this would square with the fact there was a Mrs. Wagner, who also happened to be the Sorceress Supreme of Limbo, she had no idea.

The practice fields and athletic tracks that took up the northern end of town were showing the first stirrings of life. Some of the Midgard Corps were already jogging along the running tracks, while others were running the obstacle courses. Sarah actually grinned as she ducked to keep from being easily seen from there; the kids in the Corps were training every bit as hard as the Legacy Cohorts, and the last thing she wanted or needed was to be perceived as ‘showing off’. Gods knew Iolukus did enough of that for the rest of them.

The sun was fully on the horizon by the time she made it round back to her house. Sarah slowed to a gentle jog, ultimately coming to stop just short of the back door. She repeated the same series of stretches she’d begun with, gratified her joints were no longer snapping and cracking like the sugary cereals Sammie and Ion were always eating.

Looking up, she realized the back door to the house was now open and her adoptive father was watching her with an unreadable expression. “5:33 this morning,” she said calmly.

Sam Wilson’s grizzled features broke into a proud grin. “Eighty-two minutes. Damn, girl. You’ll start runnin’ rings ‘round Jessie soon.”

An indignant voice inside the house called “I heard that!” Father and daughter shared a wry smile.

“You’d better get yourself upstairs ‘fore Jessie hogs the shower again,” Sam told her, only to hear a peal of laughter.

“Too late!” There was the sound a door slamming upstairs and water beginning to run. Sarah growled as she pushed past her father and made for the stairs. Sam simply shook his head and returned to the kitchen to begin breakfast. Something told him it was going to be a long day.

Hanger Nine (aka “Skunk Works”), South Quarter

6:45 am

“God dammit!”

James Rhodes ducked quickly, only narrowly dodging the tookbox that had just become airborne. He resisted the urge to glare at his nominal attacker, knowing full well who it was and what prompted the outburst.

To her credit, Josephine “Sprocket” Rhodes looked a bit sheepish at nearly braining her beloved father, however unintentionally. The moment passed however and she quickly returned to literally tearing the electronic guts out of the prototype fighter she’d been working on just a few weeks ago. Each new piece she pulled from the already-partially dismantled fuselage was accompanied by a loud grunt or a snarled curse worthy of a U.S. Marine’s barracks.

Rhodes was surprised to spy Vincent Von Doom sitting at one of the many workbenches, the young sorcerer-scientist sparing him an even briefer glance before returning to his labors. No-one else was immediately visible, although that meant little when it came to this crew. Vincent's presence alone was shocking enough, as Hanger Nine had long ago become his daughter's personal playground, where she added her own fine touch to the works of Richards, Doom, and the rest. She therefore very rarely allowed anyone besides Matrix (whose technical expertise she envied and who was literally incapable of gossiping), Aaron (who doted on her like a baby brother and who likely was making his own contributions) and very occasionally Franklin Richards (whom she and nearly every other member of the Legacy Cohorts idolized) to assist her here.

Nicknaming it “Skunk Works” was an in-joke only the elders appreciated, particularly when it became evident “Area 51” was a nonstarter. Like its semi-legendary namesake, this was where the next generation of technological marvels was produced, almost entirely from the mind and hands of one fourteen year-old girl (ably assisted by a one year-old synthoid boy). Everyone else thought it was a vague reference to the persistent odors of burning oil, plastics, and spilled lubricants that often hung in the air outside.

With a reluctant sigh, Rhodes decided to deal with young Doom first. He meandered over to stand a short distance from the younger man, who pointedly became 'busier' as he approached. Rhodes wasted no time on either small talk or any preamble. “Raven asked me to let you know that if you aren't home by 7:30, she will, quote, 'release a swarm of bilberbugs to carry you home,' end quote.” He had no idea what a 'bilberbug' was, but given how Vincent stiffened at their mention, it wasn't anything he wanted to see.

Nor, it seemed, did the otherwise unflappable young Von Doom, who quickly stood and called over to Sprocket. “Must dash. I'll call...later.” He hurried off without waiting for a response, nodding to Rhodes as he passed, quitting the hanger entirely.

This left the Mayor without reason to further delay, however much he would prefer it otherwise. With another sigh, he turned towards his daughter, who was still preoccupied with tearing apart the Arrowhead fighter with her bare hands. It was unlikely she'd even heard Vincent's good-byes. Much as she loved her, Rhodes could only despair at how absolute his daughter's concentration was when she was at work.

He loudly cleared his throat, the sound reverberating off the walls like cannon fire. Sprocket spun around, surprised at the din. Even Rhodes himself was caught off-guard at how loud it became.

Father and daughter stared at one another for a short moment, neither apparently ready to take the first step.

It was the younger Rhodes who spoke first, her voice at once exhausted yet defiant. “What’s up?”

Rhodes gave a tired chuckle and replied “What d’you think?”

“I’m busy here.” She boldly turned her back on him, clearly intent to make this the final word. The gentle grip her father applied to her shoulder put paid to that idea. Jo fought the competing urges to shake free of his grip, or to bury herself in those arms.

“Dammit,” she swore quietly as the latter won out, though only barely. She let her father hold her for a bit, the stress of the last fortnight fully washed through her, leaving her all but drained and shaking like a leaf. Her father wisely held his peace, allowing her this moment to herself.

He broke the silence after a few more minutes. “Nobody blames you, Jo.”

This rallied her strength enough to respond “I blame me, dammit! That’s why…”

“That’s why you’re tearing these relics apart? That’s why nobody’s seen hide or hair of you since you all came back?”

“That’s…no…yes…god dammit!” She pulled away and kicked a piece of sheet metal across the hanger, the momentary din drowning out further conversation. Too soon, however, it was quiet again.

“Your mother would tan your butt if she heard that,” Rhodes pointed out, which elicited a bitter-sounding laugh from the girl.

“That’s nothin’ compared to what she’d do to you,” she pointed out in turn. The fact the lady in question was in no condition to chastise anyone went unremarked upon.

Rhodes nodded. “True.” This admission seemed to take the fight from Sprocket, who simply leaned against the nearby workbench.

“They should blame me,” she insisted quietly, more to herself than her audience.

“I told you they don’t. Admittedly Jen’s climbing the walls about Junior, and I’m going to have to have a long talk with Ben about how he’s handling everything…”

“Bad as I’ve heard?” she asked bleakly.

“Worse. Ben’s making rounds of the taverns in Asgard, Alicia and Lyja are living like monks, and I’m starting to wonder if we have to re-locate Jonni somewhere more stable…” Sprocket groaned and hid her face in her hands. Parent were a rare commodity in Little Midgard, so for her father to be talking about relocating a child away from them spoke volumes about how serious this was. Rhodes grimaced at her reaction, immediately regretting he’d brought it up. “Jo, listen to me for a change, okay? I don’t blame you, Ben and everyone don’t blame you. The situation was a cluster-fu…er, mess…from the get-go. It’s a miracle you all made it back as is. Nothing you could have done or did do would have changed that.”

“Dad, I was responsible for the maintenance of Eff-See Three and Four, and Franklin’s whole team went missing. Hell, half of ‘em ended up getting brainwashed by the Leader and turned into killers. The other half could be dead for all we know! Then I go and loose the biggest ship we’ve got in some alternative dimension…and loose another bunch in the process…”

“What part of ‘nobody blames you’ and ‘it wan’t your fault’ isn’t registering?” The frosty, patient tone he used was reserved for arguments with his Chief of Staff, the Aesir, or a certain blind sculptress who by rights should be sitting where he was. The last thing he could afford right now was to have his own daughter beating herself up needlessly, especially when he had so much else on his plate right then. He needed her operating on all cylinders, if only so he didn’t loose it himself in the near future after so many goddamned eff-ups.

Fortunately, said tone appeared to do the job. Jo looked at him, at once chagrined and a bit shocked. He’d never spoken to her so coolly before. He filed that away for future reference and pressed on. “You want to beat yourself up, girl? Do it on your own time. But I need you functioning because God knows loosing Frank and Val blows a huge hole in our tech and brainpower assets. Von Doom’s still under his dad’s shadow, and Matrix is…well, she’s Matrix. I need you to keep them under control, clear?” He immediately softened both voice and expression and took the final step forward, gripping her shoulders gently.

“And most important, I need to know my little girl isn’t going to pull some fool-ass stunt just to prove something. We clear?”

“Clear, dad.” Impulsively, she closed the distance and wrapped both arms about him. PDAs were rare for either of them, as much due to personality as their respective positions; a fact both of them hated with a passion, if only because they could do nothing to readily change it.

Without releasing his hold, Rhodes said “C’mon. Mar’i says she’s fixing us breakfast, an’ I’ve got a 11:30 with Sarah.”

“Whanna make sure you have time to see Dr. Foster, is that it?” Mar’i Grayson, aka Nightstar, was a native-turned-refugee from the alternative timeline Sprocket and company had been briefly blown into the previous week. Finding herself in the wrong dimension, Mar’i had been promptly taken into the Rhodes household and become a full-member of the Legacy.

“Something like that,” Rhodes grinned. Her fighting skills were certainly up to par, easily up there with Magni, Thunderstrike, and even Sentinel’s. Her idea of cooking however was decided…alien.

Sprocket made no effort to pull away as her father led her out of the hanger. The lights automatically shut off a moment later, leaving the cavernous workspace in complete darkness.

Richards-Grimm-Storm Residence, West Quarter

9:15 am

For the sixth morning in a row, Benjamin Jacob Grimm awoke to find himself surrounded by wreckage. He felt himself go cold, unable to remember for several seconds where he was or how he got there. The acrid taste in his mouth and general fuzziness of his senses were clues to something familiar, but which he couldn’t quite identify yet.

Then the blinding headache hit him, as did full realization of where he was, where he’d been the previous night, and exactly how much of the Hard Stuff he’d consumed. A weak groan was all he could manag at this, which proved nearly enough to send him tumbling back into unconsciousness again.

This had become his habit in the last few days: work himself to near exhaustion in the Play Pen, which in itself took up most of the daylight, then stumble off to increasingly extended tour of the Taverns and watering holes in neighboring Asgard, before ultimately stumbling back home to crash on the futon in the basement. The fact he was actually keeping pace with many of the Aesir drinkwise seemed less worrisome than the fact the nightmares that visited him each night managed to break through the haze of exhaustion and mead he tried to stave them off with.

Hence the basement futon, and most everything else within reach, being utterly demolished. Hence him not allowing himself anywhere near what little was left of his family for the last six days.

Six days. One hundred and forty-four hours. Add to that the forty-eight beforehand when he and what was left of The Liberator’s crew made it back to Little Midgard; one hundred and seventy-two hours since his life had become so much screaming bat-shit.

His joints cracked ever so quietly as he lumbered to his feet, wincing as each of them resounded in his head like a thunderclap. He gingerly climbed the stairs leading up to the kitchen, each step itself a chore for his aching joints and mind. Every mountain is eventually scaled, however, although it took him several minutes to reach to the top, wishing all the while he could just curl up in a corner and die.

With uncharacteristic trepidation, he nudged the stairway door open and peered out. The sun had come up, bathing spacious kitchen in bright, clean light. It nearly sent Ben scurrying back into the basement. The kitchen was unoccupied save for the diminutive form of Jonni Storm, who sat at the breakfast bar, still in her bedclothes and munching away quietly at a bowl of cereal. She didn’t so much as twitch as he nudged the door fully open and lumbered in.

The month following his rescue from the Arena on Earth, Jonni had been all over him, watching his every move and spending nearly every waking hour with him. Now she could barely look at him. This stun him, but was understandable given the circumstances. Alicia and Lyja weren’t any better, really. Alicia had taken to holing herself in her studio at one end of the house while Lyja wandered from room to room in a permanent daze.

He cleared his throat. “Er, any coffee made? Honey?” The endearment was little better than an afterthought. Jonni either didn’t notice the pause or didn’t care. Rather she simply waved over towards the still-piping coffeemaker, its pot full of something a shade darker than black and smelling slightly burnt. Ben had the uncomfortable suspicion Jonni herself had poured the grounds and filled the water; of the four of them, she seemed to be the only still able to function.

Steeling himself, Ben poured himself a cup and took a sip. It wasn’t actually that bad, if only a bit hot. He was about to compliment her on it when the small girl finished her breakfast and quickly pushed herself away from the bar. She marched over to the sink and, up on tip-toes, rinsed out her cereal bowl and juice cup, then carefully placed both in the drying rack next to it. She did this all without the slightest acknowledgment of Ben’s presence.

Ben could only stare as she left the kitchen without a word, wondering why he felt as if he’d just gone ten rounds with the late Dr. Bruce Banner’s green-skinned alter ego.

Lyja appeared a moment later, still clad in a dressing gown of violet silk that bore numerous stains of food and liquids. Her dark hair was in utter disarray, hanging in unwashed locks about her face. She took several moments to realize she wasn’t alone.

“Mornin’,” Ben muttered, his headache hitting him once more. Lyja simply nodded and poured a mug for herself, drinking a sizable gulp from it and grimacing as a result. She otherwise made no move to sit or speak. “You, uh, okay there?”

This simple question seemed to shake Lyja to coherence, at least briefly. It wasn’t a reassuring sight, however, as she blew a bitter-sounding raspberry at him and stated “That’s rather a stupid question right now, isn’t it?” Looking back at the mug, she grimaced again and poured the rest of it down the drain, then set the mug aside and wandered off.

Ben quietly chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I guess it is.” Cradling his head in both hands, he wept for the utter ruin of his family and his own despair.

Mayor's Office, Civic Center, East Quarter

11:30 am

Sarah knocked, then opened the office door, keeping her expression completely neutral and praying her hands didn't shake. The appointment (read, summons) had been left on the house's answering machine late last night, politely requesting Sarah meet the Mayor and his Chief of Staff that morning. Fortunately Sam had gotten to it first and murmured it to her over breakfast. Jessie had taken her usual time in the WC, meaning she heard nothing, and so could gossip nothing to Astra or the rest.

Given it was sixthday, there were no regular drills planned, although everyone was still on-call should a 'surprise' exercise be called (as it inevitably was). There was no telling who would be called or what task would be put to them, which was of course the point. Sarah actually looked forward to these little surprises, preferring purposeful action to the idle flirting and games the rest filled their off-day with.

A summons to the Mayor’s office, on the other hand…

Mayor Rhodes and his Chief of Staff, John Walker, were waiting for her. Sarah unconsciously adopted a more formal stance as she marched across the length of the spartan office to stand before their combined desk. The room was spacious more for utilitarian reasons than ego on the Mayor’s part; impromptu conferences in this office involving the Mayor, his staff, more than two members of the Town Council, the Cohorts, and any combination therein had been the rule lately rather than the exception. Portraits of some of The Fallen – Franklin’s mother and uncle, Karen’s adopted father, Sasha’s mother, Tessa’s father[i], among many others – adorned the walls on either side, as did a large relief map of Earth. It gave the office a distinctly military feel that she found strangely reassuring.

Putting such ruminations from her mind, she finished her forward march and stood stiffly before the Mayor’s desk. A look passed between the two older men, something looking a bit like actual amusement, as she straightened her stance as best she could. Mayor Rhodes gave up fighting the smile that threatened and broke the silence. “Stand at ease, Sarah. Please. Its…well, this isn’t meant to be all that official.”

Sarah felt herself relax a bit at this, but remained where she was. “You summoned me, sir. That makes it official.” she heard herself argue automatically, only to be surprised when both Rhodes and Walker openly chuckled at this.

“Damn, girl,” Walker drawled. “You’re getting more like your dad every day.” Further elaboration on this point was cut off by Rhodes quick wave, both men sobering quickly.

“Yes, its official, but not…well, not so much so.” Rhodes took a breath and looked her directly in the eye. “How much do you know about what happened to The Liberator?”

Sarah gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Just scuttlebutt in the Play Pen. Colonel Grimm and crew lost the ship and some of their team, but their sealed the Breach or Tear or whatever it was. Oh, and they picked up some refugee or something.”

“That’s an abbreviated version, but pretty accurate,” Rhodes nodded. “What concerns us most is the lost team. Britannia and Marvel Girl were among them, as were Rockface, Mustang, and Makarra.”

“Oh. I didn’t know who…”

“We’ve been keeping it as quiet as possible, mostly for the sake of Masters and Grimm. They’re taking it the hardest, naturally. I’ve also got Jen Walters and her girl ready to storm the battlements. The worst part is we don’t know exactly where the missing team is, anymore than we know where Beta Team[ii] ended up.”

Sarah nodded, understanding. “You didn’t mention Mr. Barton, sir. Does he have anything to offer?”

Walker grimaced openly, his shared animus with the legendary archer an open secret. Rhodes simply shook his head. “Clint is being his usual cock-eyed optimist self.”

“How does this concern me, sir? Is there a rescue mission…?”

Rhodes quickly cut her off. “No! I said we don’t know where they are, didn’t I?” This wasn’t the quick denial of something known, but simple, frustrated desperation of one not used to such feelings. “Sorry,” the Mayor continued, quickly softening both voice and posture. “It’s the not knowing that’s getting to us.”

He shook his head. “Regardless, what is of immediate concern to us is the, well, hole these recent losses have put in our command structure. Loosing Frank and his team was bad enough, but now we’ve lost two of our heaviest hitters and one of our best brains. Its drained the First Cohort of a lot of experience, and the Second is kinda adrift right now.”

“That’s where you come in,” Walker put in.

“Me? Am I being bumped up to the First?” While it wasn’t unheard of for someone to be ‘promoted’ from one Cohort to another, Sarah was nevertheless keenly aware of her relative lack of experience when compared to Powerpax, Funnelweb, and the rest. She actually found herself starting to shake a bit at the thought of training with what everyone considered ‘The Major Leagues’.

To her immense (and well-hidden) relief, Rhodes shook his head again. “No, no. Nothing like that. No, we just want you to take over the Second Cohort. At least until Bethany is found, or returns, or…well, whatever.”

This was equally a surprise, albeit not quite as overwhelming. “Me, take over the Second?” Rhodes and Walker both nodded.

“That’s it.”

This, if anything, was actually more frightening than going into the First. Bethany had become the nominal leader of the Second Cohort mostly by default, letting her natural charisma and presence direct without actually leading. Sarah knew herself well enough to recognize the differences in their style as well as personalities. Would the others follow her directives as readily?

Her turmoil must have showed as Mayor Rhodes leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Sarah, believe me on this: there is no-one else on our list. You’re it.”

“Er…”

“Christ sake, girl,” Walker piped up. “You should’ve heard how Beth went on about you. Hell, right before The Liberator mission she was making noise about stepping aside for you to take over.”

“Uh…”

Her hesitation was evidentially wearing thin, as Rhodes next words were “Sarah, its done. You’re in charge, period. End of discussion. Got it?”

The girl instantly, instinctively snapped to attention and nearly shouted “Yessir!” The Mayor and his Chief just groaned again.

“At ease!” Rhodes growled. Sarah remained as she was, though there was now a slight tremble in her stance. He tried again. “Sarah, your job isn’t going to be leading the Second into immediate battle. Hell, the reason we’re trying to keep the Liberator mess quiet is so you kids aren’t tempted to go running off seeking vengeance or whatever.” He let out a slow breath. “How much have you heard about the Alpha Team[iii]?”

“Just that they’re still on bed rest at Dr. Foster’s orders and that visitors are immediate family only.”

“This doesn’t go any further, but physically they’re all fine. They’ve been fine since they were brought home. Mentally, however, they’re all in…in pretty bad shape. Katie’s suffering clinical depression and Kyle won’t so much as touch his mallet. We caught Jamie trying to pry parts of his cybernetic array out of himself with his goddamned soupspoon; he’s only fourteen and we’ve got him under a suicide watch! Cassie seems to be recovering, but she’s goes completely catatonic if the lights so much as dim. Her dad and Alyssa are worried she been hard-wired or conditioned or something to respond to darkness, and this is her way of coping.”

“My god,” Sarah breathed. “I wondered where Samson was spending her time, but…”

Rhodes pierced her with a stare. “This goes no further, got it?” Sarah nodded silently. “Good.”

Sarah felt positively sick to her stomach at the thought of her friends in such a state. Her practical nature however quickly set this aside and returned to more immediate concerns. “Well, given this, I think I should at least appoint a Deputy.” Encouraged by the nods from both men, she pressed on. “I’d like to nominate Tempest for the slot.” Jeannine N’Camba Munro was the daughter of the X-man Storm and the resistance leader T’Challa, better known as the Black Panther. Sarah and Jeannine had become friends in recent years, their natural tendency to excel at physical activity leading to an equally friendly competition between them. They worked well together at drills and training as well, something their instructors had noted on more than one occasion.

Rhodes and Walker exchanged a look, the former clearing his throat and saying “Unfortunately, Tempest is going to be on…detached duty for awhile.”

“Oh.” Sarah took a moment to process this. “Well, perhaps Chaos…”

“Also on detached duty.”

Sarah wondered for a moment what ‘detached duty’ could require two of their most powerful members. Jeannine had inherited her mother’s meteorokinesis, while Chaos was a walking electromagnetic battery that could release it in barely controlled bursts. Either or both of them could conceivably (and literally) blow the entire province off the map. She tried a different track. “Are there any others who are joining them?”

“Just Talon and Technix, plus Alloy and Wild Thing when they get back.”

“Is Katya taking that dragon of her’s?”

“I believe so.”

Sarah went quiet for a moment more. The team Mayor Rhodes just listed had little in common so far as powers and experience went. True, they all had ties, event tangential ones, to the Xavier School, but then so did several of the Corps and several of the Council. His suggesting Katya’s friend Lockheed would accompany them indicated they were going to be gone for a while. The small alien hadn’t gone with her to the Savage Land, apparently sensing it would only be a short trip. A thought hit her.

“Sir, does this have something to do with Captain Wagner making a visit?” Both men gave her a startled look. “I, uh, saw his ship docked over the Cathedral on my run this morning.”

They continued to stare at her for several more moments, which only increased her nervousness further. Then both broke into wry grins, Rhodes shaking his head while Walker beamed at her with something akin to paternal pride. “Yeah, its…well, you’ll be briefed on it all later. Suffice it to say we may be moving on some…plans…Franklin drew up a bit sooner than originally expected.”

“Er, okay.”

“Relax, Sarah. We’ll keep you in the loop. Just do what you’re already doing.” Sarah dearly wished she shared their confidence in her right then. Some of their strongest members were going off on a mission she knew nothing about, while several more were still missing or otherwise incapacitated. How was she supposed to lead anything under those conditions?

Again, her internal turmoil must have shown as Rhodes informed her “We took the liberty of informing Brunhilde of your appointment. She asked you meet her in the Play Pen after lunch to discuss the training regimen see about improving it. I personally think she’s just itching for a re-match, but that’s between you two.”

Sarah couldn’t stop the groan that escaped. The last time she’d engaged the leader of the Valkiryor in a one-on-one duel, she’d overdone it a bit and manage to shatter her opponent’s sword and shield with a photonic-energy blade she’d instinctively summoned, right before sending Brunhilde herself flying several feet with a roundhouse kick. It was almost as notable as Alicia Masters famously ‘storming the banquet hall’, if only because the Valkiryor themselves couldn’t stop talking about it and Jessie was a natural gossip. Sarah herself would have dearly loved to forget it ever happened.

Nevertheless, she said “I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“I don’t think so. Just let us know how your meeting with Brunhilde goes.”

Sarah nodded tiredly, turned, and left the office without another word. Walker waited until she was gone before quietly asking his superior “You sure we made the right decision?” Rhodes himself had no ready answer for this.

Down the hallway leading away from the office, Sarah paused and looked about. Certain she was now alone, she commenced a silent cheer, complete with a great deal of jumping, arm-pumping, and doing an impromptu jig. This went on for exactly thirty seconds, then she sobered and continued her slow march downstairs to the cafeteria, all the while fighting to keep her wild grin under control.

Parker Residence, West Quarter

12:24 pm

Jonni touched down outside the modest two-story, extinguishing her flame entirely before approaching up the gravel pathway to the porch. She’d changed quickly into her standard uniform after breakfast, too scared to remain in the house and bitter enough to depart without informing anyone (a hanging offense in her adoptive mother’s book), simply donning her uniform, opening the window and taking flight without any real destination in mind.

She seriously doubted anyone would notice her absence in the meantime. Hell, she actually doubted Benjy or his mother would be willing to see her, just as she'd begun to wonder if anyone would tolerate her presence. Ever since Big Ben (she couldn't bring herself to call him “Uncle Ben” as Grimm insisted, or “Dad” as Alicia none to subtly encouraged her) and the rest had returned without Val or Angel, she'd noted how many of the others in her Cohort had actually begun avoiding her. The fact her own guardians had taken to vanishing for hours on end, leaving her entirely to her own devices, likewise didn't go unnoticed.

Could it be everyone blamed her for the recent losses they'd suffered?

This actually spoke to a secret fear of hers. Hadn't she been rescued from a dying world? Wasn't she the only one of her world left? Could it be Galactus had...infected her with...something? Oh, everyone made the right noises about how she was all fine and everything. Dr. Foster insisted her genetic structure hadn't been tampered with, and Raven and Vincent had performed some spells on her that confirmed the same thing. Alicia, Lyja, Angel, Val, Richie, even Franklin all went out of their way to make her feel as normal as possible.

So why was everyone avoiding her?

Mary Jane Parker opened the front door after the first knock, breaking into a brilliant smile Jonni couldn't hope to match. “Hey, Firecracker,” she declared. “Haven't seen you in awhile.” Since Franklin had gotten so friendly with Anna May Parker, MJ had become a frequent visitor to their home and, to Jonni's personal chagrin, begun using the nickname Richie had needled her with since forever. She’d retaliated with some of the silliest nicknames she could conceive (“Benjy” for Spider-Boy, “Greengenes” for her brother, and so on); her efforts were all for naught, naturally.

Jonni forced a smile she hoped looked sincere enough and muttered a quiet good morning. “Is Benjy…I mean…is Ben home?” She unsuccessfully resisted the urge to stare at her feet, half-expecting the door to be slammed in her face.

MJ’s gentle laugh startled her, as did her calling back into the house in a sing-song voice “Oh, Ben-gee? Someone’s herrrre.” A distant groan was heard as MJ opened the door further and ushered Jonni inside by preemptively wrapping an arm about her thin shoulders. “We’re in the middle of brunch. Join us?”

“I, uh, already ate.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl at the scent of pancakes and French Toast.

“Nuh-huh,” MJ nodded, eyeing her critically. “Lemme guess, a bowl of corn flakes in lowfat milk.” Jonni looked up sharply. “Thought so. Well, you’re here now and going to eat a solid meal for a change.” Normally Jonni might have protested, but her head was spinning too hard both the smell of food and someone actually talking to her.

The next surprise was seeing Ben actually sitting at the table for a change; the few times she’d visited she’d seen him clinging to the walls or ceiling. His symbiote was ‘seated’ in the chair beside him, insofar as an amorphous mass of black with two white patches serving as eyes might sit. Both looked up as she entered, Ben breaking into a grin and the symbiote straightening up to stare directly at her. It should have been a menacing sight, if not for how it suddenly streaked out of its chair and politely pulled the empty chair out for her, then gently nudging it back into place once she seated herself. It repeated this with MJ a moment later, then seemed to gaze longingly at the container of syrup sitting on the counter.

“No,” MJ said in the same implacable and loving tone Alicia would when Val would ask for further desert. “You know what artificial sugars do to you.” The symbiote hung its ‘head’ and slunk away back to its own chair. Once there, it slithered one tendril up to rest on the tabletop, cradling its lumpy head upon it and looking as forlorn as a black blob could. MJ took pity upon the dejected-looking creature, picking up a fresh strawberry from the fruit bowl between two fingers, the sight of which caused the symbiote to perk up once more. She lobbed the fruit into the air and the black head shot forward and consumed the treat whole.

Jonni giggled at these antics, only to have it become a coughing fit a moment later. She hastily gulped down a drink of water, which was all promptly absorbed by her dry throat. Looking back up, she found three pairs of eyes watching her with decidedly worried expressions. Well, two were clearly expressing worry while the third pair didn’t have sufficient facial features to do more than stare.

Rather than try explaining herself, Jonni simply dug into the small plate of pancakes and fruit MJ set before her. She initially got the knife and fork mixed up, but quickly corrected this and proceeded to dismantle the pancakes, literally stuffing the pieces into her mouth and swallowing. The table went silent and she looked up, again surprised that everyone was staring at her. Ben and the symbiote watched her with a combination of surprise and wariness, while MJ gazed at her with amusement and concern.

“Chew your food, honey. It’s not going anywhere.”

Jonni felt foolish and slightly ashamed at MJ’s admonishment, and so made an obvious show of chewing the piece already in her mouth, then swallowing. “Thank you for brunch, Mrs. Parker,” she said is a still-quiet voice.

“Call me MJ. And you’re very welcome.” MJ smiled broadly into her eyes as she said this, even as she picked up a spoon and brought it down hard on the tendril that was slowly snaking toward the syrup bottle. The symbiote quickly retracted its injured limb, cradling it with another forlorn non-expression. “I told you ‘no’. I’m not going to spend another three weeks cleaning up the webbing you sneeze out when your allergies crop up,” MJ declared imperiously.

Jonni looked at the shapeless alien quizzically. “You sneeze webbing?”

“Only when his protein levels get outta whack,” Ben answered with a roll of his eyes. The symbiote nodded its head in agreement. “That’s why he can’t have anything really artificial or heavily processed. His digestive system goes nuts trying to break it down.” The symbiote turned its eyes on him for a moment, Ben giving a sigh and asking “Mom, can’t he have just a taste?”

“No.”

“See, she said no.” Apparently conceding defeat, the symbiote picked up the fruit bowl and carefully picked out strawberry after melon chunk after grape, each piece disappearing into the inky darkness of its ‘head’. The bowl was soon emptied, and the symbiote made a show of holding it upside down, even shaking it as if to dislodge some errant bit of food. Delicately setting it back on the table it looked once more at MJ, its wide eyes silently imploring. She shook her head in answer to the unasked question.

“No. You’re going to sit there quietly and wait for the rest of us to finish.”

This time it snuck out two tendrils and settled its head onto both, sulking as best it could.

Jonni quietly asked her hostess “Is, uh, it always like that?”

“Hm? Oh, no. He’s actually behaving himself for a change. Usually he’s sneaking stuff off May’s…” MJ unconsciously flinched at her eldest’s name, Ben and the symbiote both hanging their heads for a moment as well. Jonni felt her stomach churn at causing more pain, however unintentionally. It seemed to be all she was good at anymore.

MJ and Ben both quickly sobered, her hostess dropping her napkin on her plate and saying “Okay, you two clean this all up while Jonni and I have some ‘girl talk’.” With that, she stood and gently took Jonni’s hand, leading her to the spacious living room nearby. Jonni offered no resistance, too shocked that someone would actually want to spend more time with her, never mind someone she genuinely respected. The friendly grin from Ben as they passed while he and his alien companion started gathering plates and whatnot only further added to the unreality she felt faced with. Why weren’t they throwing her out the front door? Why weren’t they raging and screaming at her? Why…

This superfluous line of thought was stopped dead when MJ sat her in comfortable sofa, nudging one of the footrests over so she could sit herself on it directly before the young girl. She hadn’t let go of Jonni’s hand while doing this, and didn’t miss the puzzled and worried expression the girl wore. “Okay,” MJ stated. “Spill it. How are you, really? More to the point, where have you been?”

“How am…where…?”

“Yes, you. I wasn’t kidding, Firecracker. Practically nobody’s seen you outside of regular drills for the last week. You’ve got Ben worried, me worried, Jen worried…hel, er, heck, nearly the entire cohort have been over here asking if you’re hiding out in May’s closet.” At the Jonni’s look of utter confusion, a sudden, sinking feeling hit MJ in her gut; an awful suspicion she knew exactly where Jonni spent all her time these days. She mentally kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. Still, she wanted, no, needed to hear it from Jonni herself.

Jonni simply shrugged. “Well, I’ve been home. I mean, I gotta take care of mom an’ Big Ben an’ Aunt Lyja.”

“You…have to take care of them?” Jonni completely missed the emphasis in her tone, simply nodding and continuing on.

“Well, Ben an’ Lyja anyway, ‘specially when he comes home at night and needs help ta pull out the futon. Aunt Lyja’s easier ‘cause she jus’ needs someone to remind her when its time to eat or sleep. I mean, mom jus’ stays in her studio all day an’ night. I try ta make her lunch sometimes but she doesn’t open the door for me. I can…kinda understand why they’re all sad an’ all, ‘cause I’m sad too sometimes, well, alotta the time now…you know what I mean?”

Jonni’s eyes had quickly drifted to her hands, which were still being gripped by MJ, as she spoke. This was fortunate as she completely missed how MJ’s own expression slowly went from concerned to shocked to furious. The older woman actually went utterly still as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She looked ready to reach out and gather the girl into a tight hug and never let her go. Only the arrival of her son and his companion kept her still.

MJ summoned her years of acting experience, stomping down on her barely-concealed turmoil and smiling to the approaching Ben. The symbiote had wrapped itself around him, becoming his standard costume. “Finished, boys?”

“Yeah. Dishes are all soaking in the sink.”

She gave her son a look. “That hardly constitutes ‘finishing’ the dishes. Go back and rinse them off, then wipe them down, then put them in the washer. Then you’re done.” Ben slunk off and she turned her attention back to Jonni, who was sill staring at the floor. “I bet you haven’t gotten much sleep lately, have you?”

The girl only shook her head. MJ felt another stab of anger at Alicia and the rest. She loved them all dearly, respected each immensely, and right then was ready to strangle each and every one of them for what they were clearly doing to this precious child before her. With her bare hands. Slowly.

Very slowly.

She didn’t dare give voice to her thoughts right then, nor wish to risk spooking Jonni into running back to them. Fortunately, she recognized exhaustion when it was sitting right in front of her, and knew from first-hand experience the opportunities it afforded. “Well, I’ll bet you could use a break from running the household. Its sixthday, so why don’t you spend it over here?” Jonni shook her head quickly, only to be ignored as MJ stood and nodded. “Good, it’s settled. Ben?”

“Doin’ the dishes,” came the reply from the kitchen.

“Get your symbo-colored butt out here,” MJ laughed, mimicking her eldest’s favorite phrase.

“Its ‘symbo-covered butt’, mom.” Ben sauntered back into the living room, wiping his hands with a towel. “Everything’s in the washer now.”

“Jonni’s spending the day with us.”

“Mrs. Parker…” Jonni tried to protest, though not terribly hard.

“Great,” Ben drawled, sounding so utterly bored at the prospect, even though MJ knew he was ecstatic. Of all the youngsters, Ben had been the most jumpy where Jonni was concerned. “You guys goin’ shoppin’ or what?”

“Actually I was thinking you and she head off to the RecCent for the rest of the afternoon while I cook up dinner.” The town’s Recreation Center was combination arcade, gymnasium, and general hang-out for the younger generation.

“Joy,” Ben muttered, the symbiote covering him except for his head. “You up to getting yer butt kicked at Super Coins?” he asked of Jonni.

“I really gotta get back…”

“I’ll call your house and let them know,” MJ assured her. Let them know exactly what kind of damage they’re doing to their baby girl. Let them know exactly what I think of their being a selfish collection of shits...

“I…I…” The air about Jonni began to shimmer and tingle, signaling she was about to combust in agitation. MJ chose that moment to play what she hoped was her trump card.

“Jonni,” she said quietly, bravely reaching out and grasping the girl’s fast-warming hands. “Please? For my sake?” She looked pleadingly into Jonni’s wide blue eyes. The air around them suddenly stilled and cooled as the young girl nodded. MJ let out a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding and smiled at her once more. “Thanks.”

“Jus’…you’ll call mom an’ Ben, right? Mom doesn’t like it if she doesn’t know where we are…”

Then she shouldn’t be locking herself in that damned studio and ignoring you, should she?! Aloud , MJ swore “I promise.” She even crossed her heart while silently adding I’ll call them every rotten name I heard living in New York and let them know they aren’t the only ones who lost a kid to this war...

“C’mon, Firecracker. Let’s get this over with.” Ben put an arm around her thin shoulders, only to have her try shrugging it off. He held tight and led her towards the front door.

“Take a ten from my pocketbook,” MJ called after them.

“Already did,” her son replied, hustling them both out the door.

MJ only laughed and shook her head. “Be back by six bells,” she called, waiting several beats before reaching for the phone nearby. She punched the fifth number on the speed-dial and waited for the other end to pick up.

“’Lo?” said the familiar voice.

“Jen? It’s MJ. We gotta talk.”

Richards-Grimm-Storm Residence, West Quarter

3:40 pm

Alicia Masters-Grimm woke slowly, her entire form aching badly from having slept once more in the too-soft and too-small loveseat. It was the only piece of furniture in her studio besides the multitude of pedestals, the kiln, and her sculpting table; as such, it had served as her bed for the last five nights.

She had barely set foot outside of the studio in all that time. Ben’s return with news of the latest losses to their family had hit her harder than she could have dreamed. His voice, his very presence sent her running. She’d lost so much already, and for him to come and tell her what little she had left was lost now…

A traitorous little voice somewhere in the back of her mind chided Not quite everything. Alicia let her head fall back, tears of frustration leaking out. Jonni might as well be lost to her as well. Her beautiful little Firecracker had lost her spark. She hadn’t spoken to nor sought any of them out in days, at least not that Alicia herself had seen.

She touched the face of the clock on the end table, groaning to herself at how late in the day it was. Her hands were numb and unsteady from the workout she’d given them the past couple of days, aggressively attacking block after block after block with carving knife and chisel, more than once nearly slicing a finger off for how badly her hands were shaking.

She’d never dare show the results to another living soul.

Pulling herself upright, Alicia stood and stretched for several turns. Once her muscles were back to in their proper places, she carefully maneuvered herself to the studio’s only door. Opening it, she was startled by the sound of several plates and glasses clattering over each other. Carefully crouching down, she sighed at discovering several covered dinner trays had been stacked near the door. The food was cold to the touch of course. Fortunately nothing had actually spilled onto the floor; she didn’t really feel like attempting any genuine housekeeping right then.

Instead, she left the trays and plates where they were and made her way to the kitchen. She could make out the sounds of movement upstairs, but had no idea if it was Jonni or Lyja. She was sure it couldn’t be Ben, whose sheer weight ensured she’d know where he was at all times. Likely this was one of the reasons he was spending his nights on the basement’s futon.

Reaching the kitchen, Alicia immediately sensed she wasn’t alone. There was someone else there, although she was again at a loss given whomever it was hardly seemed to be breathing and was remaining as still and stiff as a board of wood. She debated for a moment whether she could back out and wait them out.

When whoever it was didn’t make a sound, Alicia made a snap decision and stepped forward. She moved to the counter and reached for the coffee pot, surprised again to find it warm and about half-full. Pouring herself a cup, she flinched a bit at the stale taste of it, but was otherwise grateful for the strong brew. It was likely Ben who’d made it, given its strength; Lyja had a mild allergy to caffeine and Jonni had never showed greater culinary ability than simply boiling water.

Alicia carefully slid into the seat opposite the other occupant at the table. The slow, almost laborious breaths across from her were immediately as familiar as her own heartbeat. “Good morning, Ben,” she managed to croak out, her voice hoarse from days of disuse.

The object of her greeting finally shifted pose, jiggling the table in the process and confirming her suspicions. He, however, declined to return the greeting, and instead remained where he was quietly sipping his own drink. Alicia wasn’t sure what to make of this. Her throat didn’t feel up to offering another greeting right then, but damned if she wouldn’t wait him out. She’d waited years upon years to hear his voice again, often convinced it would never be on this side of the veil.

She’d wait longer still for him.

Four bells sounded from the Cathedral.

5pm

Because of his unique physiology, Benjamin Jacob Grimm’s heart beat forty times a minute. His cardiovascular system was marvel of efficiency and strength. Even at his hardest exertions, whether at work or in battle, his heart rate would remain constant. Ben himself barely ever noticed it, proving he was as mortal as the next person.

Right then, he was very conscious of his heartbeat, feeling as if it were about to hammer its way out of his chest like some nightmare from Ridley Scott. The cause was easy enough to see: Alicia strolling into the kitchen, pouring herself coffee and calmly sitting down opposite him. To keep himself from keeling over entirely, he had tried counting off the number of beats between the time she ground out very civil, very frosty greeting to him to the ringing of four bells in the distance. His own throat had constricted at the sound of her voice, keeping him otherwise silent. It was enough of a struggle just to get enough air lest he pass out entirely.

And so he remained silent, unable to even look at the woman he’d loved for longer than he could remember, and count his hear beats. It never even occurred to him to even try to leave. And so they remained sitting there, silent and otherwise unmoving.

Five bells sounded off from the Cathedral to the east.

Where Ben found courage enough to stand and walk out of that kitchen, he would never be able to say. He would later attribute it to simple force of habit, five bells marking the beginning of his usual trek into Asgard. That evening he had extra incentive to evacuate the premises, Alicia’s unseeing stare too unsettling to be endured.

He lurched to his feet, upsetting the table in the process, and began moving off. “Where are you going?” Alicia asked, her voice more or less steady and sounding normal.

“Er, out.” Ben couldn’t manage more than that, not without completely breaking down. He didn’t dare look back, or he’d never get out of this house.

He therefore was as surprised as anyone by what happened next.

5:06pm

Everything – from physical substance to intellectual concept – has a point where sufficient stress will cause it to break. Human patience is no different; the only variance being the strength of the individual in question.

For Alicia Masters-Grimm, the breaking point came with the fact her husband was stumbling out of their home for the seventh night in row. There was no doubt in her mind exactly where he was going.

Bad enough their daughter was missing. Bad enough their adoptive daughter was pulling away from them all. Bad enough her sister-in-law had lost her own son. Bad enough they'd all lost the last two links they had to two finest people who ever lived.

Bad enough he had the fucking audacity to come back from the fucking dead, hale and hearty as you please, after she'd finally finished mourning him...

Now he simply drinking himself stupid each night instead of talking to her...when they'd both lost so damn much...

Alicia had long memorized every nook and cranny of their house, and so could judge position and movement by the smallest sounds anywhere. Ben's footfalls were notable to say the least, particularly on hardwood floors. He was just opening the door when the frustrations and furies that had built in the past week finally erupted like a volcano.

Speech was literally impossible, so great was her turmoil.

Instead she simply picked up the recently finished bust of King Thor from a nearby shelf and threw it. Her aim was impeccable, the hardened clay hitting Ben squarely between the shoulder blades, shattering into heavy pieces with a quiet 'crack'.

“Don't you fucking walk away from me.” She either whispered it or screamed it; the blood was pounding in her ears, obliterating everything else. If Ben even responded, she didn't hear it. The sound of breaking things proved addictive, as did throwing things at the otherwise invulnerable hide a short distance away. Another, larger bust (ironically of Ben himself) went flying, this one aimed slightly higher. She heard Ben actually move to avoid it, as well as the resulting ‘thud’ of it hitting the wall.

“Whaddya think yer doin’?” Ben exclaimed.

She opted for throwing books at him in answer. They weren’t especially large or heavy; likely she was tearing apart Angelica’s beloved paperback collection. Her frenzy overwhelmed any other thought however, and so book after book flew at him. She didn’t realize until it was too late that she had been steadily closing in on him in the process.

This was demonstrated rather concretely when he grasped her by the shoulders and attempted to hold her still. “Let me go!” she shrieked, managing to squirm free and delivering a hard slap to his cheek. The shock that radiated through her arm was a tiny thing compared to the surprise and shame that jolted her from her fury. Had she really just…hit…Ben?! The one thing she swore time and again she would never do?

The stinging of her hand was all the answer she needed.

“Oh, god,” was all she could croak out, doubling over and sobbing. She finally wrecked it, hadn’t she? She’d lost her children…now she’d loose her husband… he’d never forgive her for breaking her word to him…

“’Licia?” Ben’s murmured softly, his massive frame crouching beside her. She could feel the tension coiled within him, trembling like a massive thunderstorm ready to break. His touch was impossibly gentle, almost…frightened…in comparison. He took her hands in his own and slowly, carefully, guided them to his face. Alicia steeled herself to feel the rage that was doubtlessly waiting there. Instead, she felt his own tears. And, through them, the shame and the pain she selfishly would have claimed solely her own.

All the dams burst at this, her sensitive fingers frantically searching his face, memorizing every contour of his expression…a perfect mirror to her own despair. The cries and sobs that filled her hearing were not her’s alone. They never had been.

The sheer magnitude of her folly rose before her as Ben slowly regained his feet. His powerful hands took her’s once more, helping her likewise stand. Had she been so completely blind…that she couldn’t even sense his suffering? Her, of all people?

Those same arms slowly circled her, drawing her close when by rights they should toss her away. Forgiveness she could never deserve was given freely through this embrace. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he murmured over and over, shaking her to her core.

How long did they stand like that, with him holding her while she her scratched her chin again his rocky hide? Barely the length a single breath, and more than long enough for her to forgive him and he, her.

Naturally something chose that moment to, quite literally, tear them apart.

Ben was suddenly pulled from her arms, so abruptly that Alicia found herself stumbling forward. There was an inhuman growl somewhere near the stairs and a familiar voice screeched “Don’t you hurt her!”

“Lyja! Lyja, wait!” Alicia was momentarily deafened by the sound of Ben impacting first with one wall, then another. Then another. “Dammit,” she swore to herself, waving her arms before her, all orientation momentarily lost. She squeaked in surprise and instinctively flattened, feeling the breeze of Ben sailing directly over her and wincing in sympathy as he landed amid the din of breaking glass and shattering wood.

Sensing a less-definable form stalking nearby, Alicia leapt up and blindly grabbed for a limb or torso or anything. Lyja had apparently shifted into something with tentacles and a relatively small central mass; Alicia shied away from imagining further and instead just held on for dear life. Rather, she started screaming and didn’t stop. “Lyja, wait! He didn’t hurt me! I swear, he didn’t hurt me!” She heard Ben groan as Lyja hefted him once more and slammed him bodily into a nearby wall.

“No?” Lyja’s voice bubbled somewhere overhead. “Have you seen your hand? And all your artwork?”

Alicia threw herself forward and grasped what she hoped was an actual body. She shook the odd-shaped mass and screeched, “That was me, you twit! I threw those things! I hit him!”

“I…argggggh!” Lyja’s calmer-sounding response was cut off by a roar of pain and fury. Ben had evidentially come to and grabbing at her himself. Alicia again found herself falling to the floor amid the sounds of battle, this time thanks to her husband throwing her sister-in-law to the floor. Tears of helplessness hit her as shards of glass and wood cut into her side, the blinding pain of a dozen tiny cuts robbed her of speech. There was the sound of blows being exchanged, entirely new and inhuman growls and curses coming from both combatants.

There was a blast of heat some feet away, along with the sound of the front door blowing inwards. “Jonni,” Alicia sobbed, horrified at the realization of what her baby girl would now see. Something streaked inside, something soft and infinitely gentle that wrapped itself about her from head to toe, lifting her and taking her far from the battle.

She and her unseen savior landed on the grass outside just as Jonni’s own cry split the air. “STOP IT!”

Then the world exploded in heat and fire.

Mayor Rhodes Office.

8pm

James Rhodes sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples hard and desperately trying to summon the courage to discharge his duty. He hadn’t even worked up the nerve to raise his eyes from the desktop. The smell of smoke was disincentive enough. Nevertheless he muttered “I’m not going to ask how this happened.” The words led his eyes upwards.

Before him sat Alicia Masters-Grimm, Ben Grimm, Lyja Storm, and Jonni Storm. Alicia herself sat upright, back stiff and face completely blank in a way that bespoke a readiness to fly completely apart at any second, inflicting considerable violence upon anything and everything in easy reach. The middle two were far sorrier looking, their faces and clothing smudged dark from smoke and hunched, defeated postures radiating shame. Lyja additionally had several visible bruises as well. Jonni however worried Rhodes the most; she sat with her legs drawn up before her, her chin tucked behind them and slender form gently shaking from unshed emotion.

Rhodes took another breath and continued. “I don’t need to know what started this…”

“I burned down the house, sir,” Jonni quietly declared, as if this would end all debate. Instead it prompted the other three to speak all at once.

“You did not…” Lyja stated.

Ben overrode her. “We wuz fightin’ an’ she stopped…”

“I hit Ben and threw things first…” Alicia explained in calmly hysterical voice.

“Stop it!” Jonni’s near-whisper silenced them all. “I did it. Doesn’t matter why, but I did it.”

“It matters, Jonni,” Rhodes stated, equally quietly. “Especially given what you saw and who was involved.” He sighed and stood, walking around the desk to stand before them. “I bear just as much blame for this as any of you. Look, there isn’t anyone in this place that’s lost nearly as much as all of you have recently. If I’d had head screwed on straight, I would have…should have seen all this coming.”

He crouched down in front of Jonni first, gently coaxing her chin upwards to face him. “Mary Jane and Ben Parker are waiting outside. They said you were going to spend the night with them.” He quickly held up a hand to silence the coming objection. “Until the repairs are finished to your house, that’s where you’re staying.”

Jonni shook her head now, murmuring an insistent “No.”

Rhodes however either didn’t hear or simply ignored this. “Plus, you’re off the regular drill rotation until things settle down.”

“No!”

“Jonni…” The girl interrupted however, her vehemence only nearly knocking Rhodes back.

“No, no! I’m not goin’ anywhere! I gotta stay on…I gotta take care’a them…nobody else will an’…its cause’a me that everyone’s gone…an’…!”

“Jonni!” Alicia cried, understanding the words as only a mother might. Lyja herself was too shocked to speak right then, though it was clear she also understood what was being said. Ben was simply too shell-shocked by the past few hours - how close he’d come to first injuring Alicia, how he’d nearly beaten Lyja to bloody pulp, how they’d all nearly being fried by his own foster daughter - to do more than stare. Thank god the Symbiote had braved its instinctive fear of fire to pull Alicia out of the way before Jonni had literally gone nova…

Alicia moved to take Rhodes’ place in front of Jonni, who quickly looked away from her. “Jonni, listen to me,” Alicia said frantically, her hands on the girl’s shoulders, trying to turn her so they were face-to-face, Jonni resisting hard. “Listen to me. This isn’t your fault…none of it…not Franklin and Richie and Val and Angel all going missing…not our fighting…not…none of it is because of you…”

Jonni tried to pull away from this, only to have Alicia gather her in an awkward embrace and keeping up her frantic monologue. “Its not your job to take care of us…we’re supposed to take care of you…you’re our baby girl and we love you…love you so much…we’re…I’m so scared of loosing you too…I’m sorry we…sorry I haven’t done better…oh, god, Jonni…I’m so, so sorry…so sorry…” Alicia completely broke down after that, pulling the girl close to her and weeping openly. Jonni was no longer trying to pull free, but instead buried herself into the embrace. Ben shook himself into lucidity and knelt beside them, wrapping his own arms about the both of them.

“Does she have to go…?” Lyja found she couldn’t complete the sentence.

Rhodes nodded reluctantly and asked “Are any of you in any condition to take care of her right now?”

Lyja couldn’t answer that, opting instead to join her family in their collective embrace. Ben shifted enough to admit her, but was unable to face any of them. Rather he simply squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head atop Alicia’s. Rhodes let them have this moment between them, praying he was making the right decisions here, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut telling him otherwise.

After awhile, once everyone had calmed a bit the office door opened, admitting a reluctant-looking Ben and mildly embarrassed-looking MJ. The Symbiote slunk in after its friend and host, quietly closing the door behind it and trailing close behind them. The Grimms and Storms had separated by then, although Alicia kept ahold of Jonni’s hand. “Hey, Firecracker,” MJ greeted the still-shaking Jonni, studiously ignoring the others. “Ready for a sleep-over?”

“Uh…” Jonni muttered, looking ready to bolt but for Alicia’s holding onto her.

“Yes, she is,” the sculptress stated calmly, turning to face her foster daughter directly. “Ben and I need a little time to…to get ourselves together. And you need someone to take care of you properly for a change.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’,” Alicia stated firmly. “You need somewhere more…safe than we can give you right now. It doesn’t mean we love you any less, silly.” She hugged the slender child to her. “You’ve done too much ‘taking care of’ lately. Now its your turn.”

“Jus’ fer a couple days,” Ben smiled. This seemed to hearten the girl enough that she was willing to separate from her mother, taking MJ’s hand in turn. The Symbiote slid forward and took the other one in a single tendril with considerable care and tenderness. MJ led her off for a few steps, then quickly turned back.

“I give a call later once we’re settled for the night, ‘kay?” Not waiting for a response, she quickly shepherded her son and newest charge out. No-one missed the hotly furious glare she threw back at them just before the door closed, which shut with a resounding thud. Alicia gave a quiet sob at hearing this, pressing herself against Ben as he put an arm around her.

Hoping to forestall further scenes, Rhodes cleared his throat and said to Lyja “We’ve had a development in the Savage Land that could use your input. And I think you could use a day or two away from Little Midgard yourself, right?”

“It…might be a good idea,” Lyja agreed.

“Jim’s next door. He’ll give you the rundown.”

Lyja nodded tiredly and turned to her family. Ben’s was about to offer some useless apology when Lyja held hand up. “We both…we’re both hurt, Ben.” Grimm could only nod in acknowledgement. “I think that’s enough for now. We all need some space to…to get back to ourselves.” She gently cupped Alicia’s cheek and gave Ben’s massive should a squeeze. “I won’t be gone long. Please, for my sake…for Jonni’s sake…please work out whatever it is between you…”

She couldn’t continue after that, instead beating a hasty retreat to the adjoining office. A shame-faced Ben and Alicia now faced an equally striken Mayor. “I’ve spoken with the Bartons. You can stay there until the repairs are done. Jen’s actually waiting downstairs for you.” The Grimms began to move off when Rhodes said “One thing, Ben: no more tours of Asgard taverns. Period. I’ve gotten half a dozen missives from Thor questioning if you’re really you, or if you’ve gone completely nuts.”

“Really?”

“I quote ‘the Benjamin Jacob Grimm I have known these many years would not engage in such disruptive behavior. Verily, he hath oft counseled against such excess and violence’.” Ben’s shoulders slumped further, although Alicia refused to leave his side. “No more of it, Ben. There’s a support group for parents meeting here tomorrow evening. Jen, Clint, Mary Jane, Scott, and a few others will all be there. I want both of you there as well. This isn’t open for debate, got it? I can’t afford to loose anyone here, least of all you two!”

“We’ll be there,” Alicia promised for both of them.

Rhodes nodded and said “Go get some rest. See you tomorrow.” He watched them go, fighting the urge to vomit all the while.

Barton Residence, West Quarter

9pm

True to the Mayor’s word, Jennifer Walters was waiting for them in the foyer. She gave them a curt nod and greeting, then led them to the modest two-story she shared with her husband and son. Ben held his tongue throughout the journey, nervous at aura the former attorney and gammazon was projecting. Jen had noticeably shrunk in both height and girth, despite her skin still its familiar emerald hue; if anything however, she seemed fiercer than he could remember her. It was disincentive enough to deter any questions. Alicia simply followed along, either too numb or too exhausted to care either way.

In marked contrast, Clint Barton was his usual valuable self, all grins and shoulder slapping. He’d already made up the extra large sofa bed for them, promising it was strong enough to support Ben’s weight. “MJ Parker called a couple minutes ago. The Firecracker crashed out as soon as they got to the house,” he reported. “Hey, Ben. Care for a nightcap?” Clint asked after he’d made sure Alicia was settled.

“Clint!” Jen growled.

“I’m sure I got some of the hard stuff around here,” Barton carried on, ignoring both his wife and how still his guests suddenly went.

“Er…” Ben muttered, wrestling with the temptation for several seconds. Those seconds stretched before him like a lifetime.

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No!” His refusal was weak in voice, but absolute in conviction. The room let out a collective, silent sigh of relief. Clint’s smile softened, becoming genuine rather than teasing and fake.

“Good ta have you back, Ben. An’ I don’t mean from Earth,” he offered quietly, then turned headed for the nearby stairs, turning out the lights as he did. “Night,” their host called, gently tugging the still fretting Jen upstairs.

“Night,” Ben replied, moving to carefully lie down beside his own wife. Alicia stiffened at his presence for a moment, then rolled over and pressed herself against him.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered, then dropping off to sleep. Ben followed her a few minutes later, wondering at it all.

11pm to 5 am

The Asgardian Providence of Little Midgard

Night falls on the town. With it comes dreams, which arrive in their own time.

Dreams that discomforted parents and children alike, reassuring in their own way for all the momentary heartache they gave.

Dreams where children lost in time sit and wait in cold and sterile place. They are not alone: a dark man and a golden man wait there with them. The children are anything but helpless however.

“What will we do?” asks a small blonde girl of their leader.

“Escape,” replies the violet-haired leader with a confidence that makes the possibility real.

Later, others dreams come to a select few, offering solace and strength where only despair had previously dwelled.

The blonde man stands under an artificial sky, staring upwards beyond the sky that is in fact a barrier. He turns away, holding himself with a confidence and determination that has bent time and space to his will in times past.

He returns to the small settlement that is their temporary prison. His fellows are waiting there, some bed-ridden, others tending them or sitting nearby.

“What will we do?” asks the green-skinned boy of his cousin.

“Escape,” replies the blonde man. And the universe moves itself to make this reality.

The dreams will not be remembered in the morning, which is as it should be.

But hearts will be lighter with the sunrise, and families will finally begin to heal. Those lost will be missed, but life will go on. There will be love shared and joys had by those left behind.

Which also is as it should be.

To Be Continued in

Legacy 5

Mission Into the Unknown