Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The others don't like Avocato.

It surprised Gary at first, but maybe it shouldn't have. Avocato's always had an abrasive personality—gruff and short-tempered, a little bit arrogant, quick to violence—and getting possessed by Invictus hadn't exactly made him any cuddlier. Gary had befriended Avocato in an instant, but Gary would've befriended a sentient crab cake if given the opportunity. So it kinda makes sense that, for the others, Avocato might be… more of an acquired taste.

Ash keeps her distance. There's a noticeable chill whenever Fox enters the same room as him. Even Quinn can't manage to hide her distaste—though she does try, for Gary's sake.

"That one's trouble," Sheryl says one day, completely unprompted. "He's not loyal to anyone but himself. You be careful around him, love."

"Oh, wow," Gary says sarcastically. "Thanks for the advice, Mom. Did you try actually talking to him, or did you come to this fascinating conclusion all by yourself?"

Sheryl arches one brow, but doesn't rise to the bait. "We've crossed paths before," she explains, still perfectly calm. "I'm a notorious criminal, remember? I've met all kinds of tyrants and dictators and warlords. I was there on Paxonia—I saw what he did firsthand. I know the things he's capable of."

Gary looks away. He's never heard of Paxonia before, and now he's pretty sure he doesn't want to.

He knows, of course, that Avocato used to be the Lord Commander's right-hand man. He knows that Avocato has a dark past, and that he did terrible, unspeakable things. But that part of his life had always seemed so remote, something faraway and long-forgotten. Avocato's not the same person he used to be, and it had always been easier for Gary to just… not think about it.

Of course, not everyone has that luxury. The truth is, he doesn't know what Avocato is capable of. And the idea that his mom might, on some level, know more about Avocato than he does… well, he doesn't like it. It's an uncomfortable thought, one that keeps drawing back his attention, demanding to be picked at, like a loose thread on a shirtsleeve.

Of course, he's not about to admit that to his mother. "That doesn't matter," Gary finally says. "He's not that person anymore."

Sheryl glances sideways at him. "He tried to kill you."

"You tried to kill me."

"Come on, now," Sheryl says, sounding offended. "If I'd really wanted you dead, you'd be dead now."

"Forgive me if I don't find that very reassuring."

"Fair enough," Sheryl admits. She hesitates a moment, one hand resting on her hip, as she mulls over her thoughts. "Let me put it this way," she eventually says. "Avocato doesn't value other people's lives. Yours, mine, the children's—everyone on this ship is expendable to him. If you really care about these people, you'd do well to remember that."

"That's funny, coming from you," Gary says, and he can't mask the bitterness in his voice. "Avocato was willing to die for his son. That's a lot more than you can say."

Sheryl's expression is completely blank. If she's upset by his words, she's not showing it. "Suit yourself," she says calmly. "But don't say that I didn't warn you."

Ha. As if. Gary's never gonna say that in a million years. His mother is clearly (1) a terrible person and (2) out of her freaking mind. Also, (3) he has like a million other things to worry about, and she's pretty low on his list of priorities right now. There are dozens of repairs that still need to be done on the ship, and they're basically sitting ducks until they can get the lightfold engine back online.

Unfortunately, there is a truly distressing lack of hardware stores in Final Space, and an even more distressing lack of ladders aboard the Crimson Light, so when it come to reaching high places, your best bet is to ask someone really tall. Or with really long arms. Or, failing that, to get someone really tall to let you sit on their shoulders, which is how Gary found himself as the upper half of a two-person Jenga game, straining to reach the next bundle of wires dangling from the ceiling.

"Okay, can you move like… three inches to the right?" Gary asks.

Fox obligingly steps to the right, but overshoots by a large margin. "No, no—a little back to the left," Gary says. "Okay, right again—"

"Seriously, man?"

"Just slide over, like, half a step." Fox grumbles but shuffles over anyway, edging ever so slightly back to the right. "There! That's perfect, don't move."

Gary stretches out one hand and is just barely able to reach the damaged wire. He tugs gently on it, giving himself a little bit of slack, and then snips it cleanly in two. With unusual care, he strips away the damaged cord to expose the metal core on both ends, then hands the wire cutters back down to Fox.

"Pass me the soldering iron," Gary says, his attention entirely absorbed in his task. It's a few seconds before he realizes that Fox isn't listening to him.

"Fox?" he asks, glancing down.

It's hard to read Fox's expression from this angle, but he's clearly distracted by something. Gary follows his gaze and finally notices that Avocato is standing at the far end of the hall, perched at the edge of the gravity elevator.

The darkness in the hallway makes the scene sort of ominous-Avocato is a dark figure eerily backlit by the light from the elevator. Not to mention that the tension in the room is palpable. Gary is half-worried that another thousand-year war is about to break out right her, in the middle of the Crimson Light.

"Heeyyy, Avocato," Gary says cheerfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere. It remains stubbornly gloomy. "What's up, buddy?"

Avocato stops glowering for a moment, turning his gaze towards Gary. "AVA wants to know much longer the repairs will take," he says. "They need the power back on in this sector of the ship before Little Cato and Quinn can finish on the lightfold engine."

"Uhh, not much longer," Gary says, and it's only a little bit of a lie. Probably. "Like… five minutes? Or maybe five hours? I'm sorry, I'm not an electrician."

Wordlessly, without so much as a nod to acknowledge Gary's reply, Avocato steps backwards into the gravity elevator and floats back up towards the bridge. Gary frowns as he watches him go.

"Wonder what's got him so grouchy," Gary murmurs.

"Yeah, I wonder," Fox says, in a sarcastic sort of voice that makes Gary think he's not actually wondering at all.

Gary thinks he should probably say something about that. But Fox passes up the soldering iron without being asked this time, and for the moment he returns his attention to his task. He carefully holds the solder and the two ends of wire together with his robot hand, then turns on the heat. The iron is hot enough to fuse the wire together, but not nearly hot enough to damage his hand—though, of course, his nerve endings don't know that. They react more or less the way a real flesh hand would, and they do not appreciate the temperature.

"You know," Gary says casually, ignoring the pain in his fingers, "I don't know what went down between your people and the Ventrexians, but Avocato's a pretty cool dude once you get to know him."

Fox is still silent. "I mean," Gary continues awkwardly, "he's a little gruff, and he can be..." He hesitates, searching for the right word. "Cantankerous," he eventually decides upon, "but you don't have to be, you know. Afraid of him."

He pauses in his task long enough to glance down at Fox and flash him a quick smile. Fox does not smile back.

"That's not it," he says curtly.

Gary hands the soldering iron back down to Fox, and Fox immediately passes up the electrical tape. "What is it, then? If you don't mind me asking."

Fox hesitates. Gary can tell he's touched on a nerve—something personal, something that Fox might not really want to talk about. "You know I share a room with Little Cato," he eventually says, with the kind of grim seriousness he usually reserves for threatening people who mess with his sister. "He's still real shaken up about what happened."

Gary grimaces. He had noticed, in quiet moments, that Little Cato seemed… nervous around his father. Not very often, of course. But sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, you could tell that he was still anxious about something. And it was understandable—everything that had happened on Kanopus Prime had been pretty terrifying, to say the least. Gary's not completely over it yet either.

But that hadn't been Avocato. Not really.

"That was Invictus," Gary says, as much to reassure himself as Fox. "Avocato didn't have any control over his actions."

"Right," Fox agrees quietly. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

Fox opens his mouth, but stops himself before saying anything. Gary watches as a wide range of emotions flicker across his face—fear, anger, frustration, uncertainty—before he eventually settles back into the same cool stoicism.

"I'm just worried about Little Cato," he says.

Okay. Maybe Gary's been approaching this from the wrong direction.

He knows that Avocato is a super fun chill dude to hang out with, but it's pretty obvious that he's been on edge lately. Which is totally in character for Avocato, sure, but it's not helping the others feel any more at ease after that whole Invictus thing. So if he can just coax Avocato out of his shell—if he can get him to be a little more best friend and a little less bounty hunter—then surely, surely everyone will stop being so awkward and uncomfortable around him.

It's a foolproof plan, really.

Gary corners him in the hallway just after breakfast. Avocato's clearly still in a grumpy mood, but Gary doesn't let them stop him from skipping over and throwing one arm around his shoulders. "Hey buddy! I hear this thing has a frickin' bowling alley, you want to check it out?"

Avocato shrugs away from his touch. "Bowling's not really my thing," he says gruffly.

"Okay," Gary says, undeterred. "How about some cards then? What do you say? Texas hold 'em? Five card draw? No? Okay, what about strip poker—"

"Absolutely not," Avocato says sharply.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Gary's mouth. At least that got a reaction out of him.

"Okay," he says. "How about… Go Fish?"

Avocato rolls his eyes, but finally relents. "Sure, whatever," he mutters. "Anything to shut you up."

Go Fish isn't actually gonna shut him up, of course, though it does temporarily distract Gary from his mission. Somehow he'd forgotten in these past few months, but Go Fish is actually a terrible game. They've barely even started before Gary regrets everything and wishes that he'd suggested Crazy Eights instead. But Avocato actually seems to be enjoying himself—or, at least, he's stopped scowling quite so much—so maybe it's not a complete failure.

"Got any sevens?" Avocato asks, eyeing his cards thoughtfully.

"Nope. Go fish."

Avocato grabs another card from the deck, careful not to damage the paper with his claws, and adds it to his hand. Gary examines his own hand for a minute, trying to remember which cards he's already asked about, when Avocato interrupts his train of thought.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Gary smirks. "Not if it's about cards," he sasses. "You already had your turn, buddy!"

Avocato laughs a little at that—the first laugh Gary's heard out of him in a while. It's good to hear. "It's not about cards," Avocato says.

"Alright then. Go for it."

"What happened to you?" Avocato asks. He sounds genuinely perplexed, and Gary suddenly realizes that Avocato is staring at him pretty intently. "You're like a completely different person now."

Gary glances away, feeling weirdly flustered. He hadn't been expecting such a serious question. "I dunno," he says. "A lot of stuff, I guess. I lost you, I lost Quinn… suddenly there was this kid I had to look after. It was a lot to deal with."

"It's weird," Avocato admits. "Like all of a sudden everything changed, you know? Last thing I knew, it was just you and me, getting into all kind of trouble, and now..."

Gary frowns sympathetically. He hadn't really thought of things from Avocato's perspective before. But of course these past few months had passed in just an instant for him. Between all the time travel stuff and getting possessed by Invictus, it's only been a couple of days for Avocato since they rescued Little Cato. Heck, from his point of view, it's been barely two weeks since their first encounter on the Galaxy One.

"Things are pretty different now," Gary agrees. He fiddles nervously with his cards and flashes Avocato an uncertain smile. "Hopefully in a good way…?"

Avocato smirks. "You're less annoying than you used to be, if that's what you mean."

"That is what I mean."

Avocato rolls his eyes, but Gary can tell he's not really bothered. "Well, some things haven't changed," he says, pretending to be annoyed, but there's a fondness in his voice.

"It is a lot to take in, though," he continues, growing somber now. "Seeing how close you've gotten with Little Cato… it's strange."

Gary tenses slightly, half-expecting Avocato to attack. But of course he doesn't. He doesn't yell at him, or get angry, or accuse him of trying to steal his son. Because of course he wouldn't—that all had been Invictus, not Avocato. Avocato would never do that.

Even knowing that, though, Gary feels weirdly apprehensive. Like his heart still isn't ready to believe what his head has already knows.

"It's hard," Avocato admits, looking away. "Little Cato and I were separated for a long time. And before that, we didn't always…"

He trails off. "I've been a terrible father," he says, sounding pained. "I fell in with a bad crowd, and my son almost died because of it. You're already a better parent than I ever was."

"No," Gary protests immediately. "No, no, no. I'm a walking disaster—do you have any idea how many times I've nearly gotten Little Cato killed?"

Avocato chuckles quietly at that. "Do I want to know?" he asks dryly.

"No, probably not," Gary agrees, laughing. "I mean, my point is—you're not a terrible father. You were in a bad situation, and you did your best. And you saved him."

Avocato gets a distant look in his eyes. "Yeah," he agrees softly. "Yeah, we did."

"I know it's a lot to adjust to," Gary says, "but Little Cato adores you. He missed you so much, and he's so excited to have you back."

Avocato scoffs at that, like he doesn't really believe it. "I'm serious!" Gary says. "Things are kinda weird right now, but give it some time. Pretty soon you guys are gonna be closer than ever."

"Yeah," Avocato eventually agrees. "You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right," Gary says. "Now, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

Gary leans forward seriously. "Do you," he says slowly, enunciating each word clearly, "have any twos?"

Gary's good mood persists for about two more minutes, during which time Avocato thoroughly kicks his ass at cards, until all of a sudden the ship's alarms start going off. Warning lights are flashing, illuminating the whole room in bright red, and AVA announces in a perfectly calm monotone, "Urgent: Temporal incursion imminent."

"Temporal incursion?" Gary leaps up to his feet. The cards are immediately forgotten, left scattered on the floor. "You mean like a temporal worm? Those exist in Final Space?"

"Yes," AVA says, "and if we don't do something fast, we are going to collide directly with it."

Gary starts sprinting towards the bridge before AVA's even finished speaking, with Avocato close behind. Quinn and Little Cato are already there when Gary finally arrives, huffing for breath. Little Cato is seated at the controls, while Quinn stands nearby, tapping away furiously at a navigation screen. They both speak at the same time the moment that Gary enters the room.

"This is like nothing I've ever seen before—" Quinn is saying.

"Gary, what should we do?" Little Cato asks.

Gary grimaces, thinking quickly. "What happens if we enter the worm?"

"That is impossible to predict," AVA answers. "We could emerge anywhere, at any time"

"That could take us out of Final Space!" Avocato exclaims. "AVA—take us in."

"No!" Quinn objects. "It's too dangerous. Temporal worms almost never travel between different dimensions. And if it doesn't take us out of Final Space, then we'll still be trapped here—but without Bolo's help."

Avocato glares at Quinn, but doesn't respond directly to her. "Do it, AVA!" he barks.

But AVA, in typical fashion, does nothing of the sort. "Gary?" she asks instead, waiting for his command.

Everyone turns to look at him. Gary suddenly realizes that they're all expecting him to make the final decision.

He pushes down a sudden surge of anxiety and says, in the most authoritative voice he can muster, "Quinn's right, it's too dangerous. Little Cato—avoid the worm."

"You got it," Little Cato says. He takes over manual control of the ship, and it's a pretty simple maneuver to avoid the incursion. There's barely any turbulence at all as they sail easily past the worm's head.

Quinn breathes out a sigh of relief. Little Cato lets out a little whoop and turns expectantly to Gary—clearly looking for praise—and Gary obligingly ruffles his hair. "Good work, Spidercat."

Gary turns back to look at Avocato, and finds him scowling in the corner.

Whatever progress they'd made earlier has evaporated in an instant. Feeling weirdly guilty, Gary jerks his hand away from Little Cato, like he's been burned.

The sudden motion does not escape Little Cato's notice. "Is everything okay, Dad?" he asks.

The question was directed at Gary, but Avocato's the one who answers. "That worm could've been our ticket out of here," he says, clearly frustrated. "We might never get another chance like that."

"That's extremely unlikely," Quinn says dismissively. She doesn't even glance up from her screen, where she's still typing away, diligently running computations. "I told you already—"

"We're trapped in here because of you!" Avocato interrupts, practically snarling.

Little Cato's eyes go wide. Quinn finally looks up from her computer display, but she doesn't look at Avocato. She looks at Gary.

Gary exhales slowly. This is not how he wanted today to go.

"If you're gonna blame someone," he says, "blame me. It was my decision."

Avocato still looks pissed, but he reigns in his anger at least a little bit. "I understand," he says tersely. "You're the captain."

Gary is struck with a sudden jolt of surprise. He is the captain. For real this time.

Somehow he hadn't realized until now. Between losing Quinn and getting picked up by Clarence and all the mess that followed, he'd never really had time to think about it. But he's been the leader of the the team squad for a while now. Everything that just happened here on the bridge is testament to that.

But Avocato is still waiting for him to say something. "It was a good idea, Avocato," he says gently. "It's just too much of a risk, you know?"

"I understand," Avocato says again. But he doesn't look very happy about it.

"I, uh," Gary continues nervously, searching for a good way to de-escalate the situation. "I know you're probably used to being the one in charge."

Even back on the Galaxy One, Avocato had been the one calling the shots. We're following Terk. We're going to Yarno. We're saving my son. Gary had been more than willing to tag along, but he realizes now that's all he ever was—a tag-along. They've never really… disagreed like this before.

"Yeah, well," Avocato says. "That life's behind me now."

Gary smiles weakly at him. "We're still cool, right?"

He holds out one hand, and he can't hide his relief when Avocato clasps it. "We're cool," he says.

They're not cool.

Avocato doesn't say anything—but then, he doesn't need to. He broods in the dark corners of the Crimson Light, glowering at all who dare to interrupt his solitude. His mood is as dark and ominous as a thundercloud. Even Little Cato steers clear, avoiding his father just as much as the rest of the crew does.

Gary hadn't realized—or had forgotten, maybe—that Avocato could be a real dick sometimes. He'd been spared the worst of Avocato's foul moods earlier, but ever since their confrontation on the bridge he can barely even get him to say hello.

"Hey Avocato," Gary says one morning after breakfast. Avocato glowers at him and says nothing.

"What's up, buddy?" Gary asks another day, as they cross paths in the hallway. Avocato silently walks past without so much as a nod.

"So, nice weather we've been having lately," Gary says pleasantly, while washing dishes in the kitchen sink.

Avocato takes a long, slow slip from his glass of water. He looks like he's contemplating a wide variety of potential responses to that statement: You call this weather? or maybe, We're in space, idiot, or perhaps even, That's a hilarious joke, Gary!

In the end, Avocato doesn't say anything at all. Which is exactly what Gary should have expected, but it's still disappointing. Their weird little staring contest continues on in uncomfortable silence until HUE enters the room.

"Ah, Avocato," he says. "I am glad to see you. Ash and I were hoping you could assist with—"

"Piss off, you pile of scrap metal," Avocato interrupts bluntly. He finishes the rest of his water in one gulp and slams the glass down on the countertop.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Gary exclaims, a little offended on HUE's behalf. "Avocato, what the heck was that for? You can't call HUE names like that!"

Avocato glares at him, a look so ferocious that it actually sends a shiver down Gary's spine. "You're not my mother," he snaps. "I don't need you patronizing me."

Gary blinks a few times, trying to figure out how to respond to that, but Avocato storms off before he decides on what to say. Gary spends another few moments trying to process the situation before turning to HUE.

"Okay, what is going on?" he asks, exasperated. "What has gotten into Avocato lately?"

"I could only speculate," HUE demurs. "Perhaps you should try asking him instead."

"Well, I'm asking you," Gary says. He walks over towards HUE, abandoning the dishes in the sink, and plops down on the floor next to him. "This is the kind of stuff you were programmed for, right? Speculate away. Use your fancy heuristic rhythms, or whatever."

"Well," HUE begins carefully, "this seems to be related to the argument the two of you—"

"That's not it," Gary interrupts. HUE stares at him silently, and even though his face is as expressionless as ever, Gary feels weirdly like he's being judged. "I mean—yeah, but there's gotta be something else going on. Something more than just that."

"He does seem… frustrated," HUE acknowledges. "Trapped in a dangerous place, surrounded by unfamiliar people. The stress of the situation may be causing him to lash out."

Gary frowns, mulling that over. "Is this because of Invictus?" he asks. "Could some part of it still be infecting Avocato's mind?"

"It is possible," HUE says, hesitant.

"But?" Gary prompts.

"This behavior is not inconsistent with the way Avocato acted on the Galaxy One."

Gary furrows his brow in confusion. "HUE, what are you talking about? He was never like this."

"But he was," HUE says calmly. Gary's frown deepens. "Although he warmed to you quickly, he was quite hostile at the start. Forming new relationships seems to be difficult for him. I do not believe he has had many friends before."

"Yeah, well, neither have I, but you don't see me storming around like a moody teenager."

HUE makes a sound that could almost be a laugh. "Gary, you are quite unlike Avocato."

It's true. Gary's never known anyone else like Avocato, who could switch from dazzling charm to cool pragmatism to raw emotionality in an instant. He's never quite understood what it is that makes Avocato tick—and to a certain extent, that's part of the appeal. Avocato was new and different, a mystery to be solved… only Gary never got around to actually solving it.

"What do you think I should do?" he asks.

HUE turns to him, his robotic eyes as cold and empty as ever. But his voice is warm when he speaks. "As I was saying earlier," he says fondly, "perhaps you should try asking him."

It's surprisingly hard to track down Avocato—the Crimson Light has way more nooks and crannies than Gary realized. While searching, Gary discovers half a dozen rooms that he didn't know existed, including several that he totally thought Ash and Little Cato were making up, before finally finding his favorite Ventrexian bounty hunter in, of all places, the bowling alley.

It's smaller than Gary expected, just two lanes and one large sofa in a half-circle at the end. Avocato is sitting in the middle of the sofa, turned to face the empty bowling lanes, apparently deep in thought. But he must notice the sound of Gary's footsteps as he approaches—he suddenly whirls around, face contorted into a snarl, automatically reaching down for his gun.

Gary freezes in place, hands held up in front of him. "Heyyy, Avocato," he says softly. "It's just me."

Avocato relaxes—or, at least, he takes his hand off his gun. He still looks tense, unsettled. "What do you want?" he asks curtly.

"I was hoping we could talk," Gary says, and Avocato's expression hardens. "I mean, uh—I can't help but notice that you've been kind of… you know. Cranky lately. Is there something on your mind?"

"No."

Typical Avocato, bottling up all his feelings. Gary fights against a sudden urge to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, okay," he says, taking a few steps forward. "It's just, you know, it feels like you've been kind of angry lately. And I want to know if I've done something to piss you off, because I don't know how to make things better if you're not gonna tell me what's wrong."

Avocato is still scowling, but he says reluctantly, "It's not your fault."

Tentatively, Gary sits down beside him. "Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like it is."

"It's not," Avocato repeats. He sighs, closing his eyes, and finally a little bit of the tension melts out of his shoulders. "It's everyone else."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not… used to being around people," Avocato says. "I spent three years trying to get my son back. That whole time, I was on my own. I trusted no one."

He turns to look at Gary. "Even before that, when I was with the Lord Commander, I didn't have anybody. I've been alone for my entire life."

Something about the way Avocato says it—a little forlorn, a little melancholy—makes Gary's heart break. He hadn't realized that Avocato had been alone too. "So have I," he says softly.

Avocato's expression softens, and he offers Gary a rare smile. "So you understand what I'm going through."

Gary leans back against his seat. "I… don't," he admits. "This is everything I ever wanted. All the people I love are here. It finally feels like I belong somewhere."

Avocato looks away, his eyes growing distant. "I guess we're just different then," he says. "I wish we could be alone again. Just you and me and Little Cato."

"You don't like the others?"

"That's not it. I don't trust them."

"I mean, granted, you probably shouldn't trust my mom," Gary says, grinning at the thought. "But everyone else—they're good people, I promise. This isn't Tera Con Prime, they're not gonna betray you."

"It's not that simple." Avocato frowns, suddenly growing serious again. "Ventrexia is a rough place. Weakness isn't tolerated there. Ventrexians don't have friends, they have allies—and those alliances only last as long as you're useful. I've always had to watch my back." He looks back towards Gary. "You're the first person I've ever been able to really trust."

Avocato's gaze is so intense that Gary ducks his head and looks away, flushing slightly. "I, uh," he begins, immediately forgetting what he was going to say. "I mean—you were my first friend too."

Avocato leans back in his seat, turning his eyes towards the ceiling. He looks… sad. "I'm sorry for making you worry. I guess I'm still having a hard time adjusting."

That's the understatement of the century. But Gary tries to stay upbeat as he says, "I understand. But if you just give the others a chance, I think you'll really like them." He reaches down to grab one of Avocato's hands and squeezes it gently. "Even if you're not ready to trust them yet, trust me."

Avocato's expression is inscrutable. But he's still Avocato—and despite all the things that have changed in these past few months, they're still bros until the end, back-to-back for life—so he responds the only way he possibly could have: "I trust you."

Chapter Text

"I WILL DESTROY YOU," Ash vows. The air around her crackles and sparks,the unmistakable scent of ozone filling the room. She rises up from the ground, bathed in ominous purple light, and gestures violently with one arm. "I WILL RAIN DESTRUCTION UPON YOU! NONE SHALL BE LEFT STANDING!"

From the back of the room, Gary frowns with disapproval. "Ash, you can't use your thingy-thing on the bowling pins!" he calls out. "That is cheating!"

"You're just saying that 'cause you're losing," Avocato says, grinning.

Gary turns back around to look at the others. The entire crew—except Sheryl, of course—is crowded together on the couch, which is just a smidge on the small side for seven people, two robots, and an adorable planet-destroying superweapon. Most of them seem more amused than annoyed by Ash's frankly blatant cheating.

Gary glowers at all of them. "We're losing because you guys are terrible, rotten, dirty, no-good cheaters!"

"Hey!" Little Cato protests. "If you guys get to use Mooncake, then it's totally fair—"

"It is not—Quinn back me up here—"

"Oh no," Quinn says, arms firmly crossed over her chest. "I'm not getting involved."

Alright, maybe he should have expected that. Quinn was never super hot on the idea of family bowling night to start with. "HUE?" he tries instead.

"I think it is a little late for that," HUE says mildly.

Gary turns back towards the lane just in time to see Ash huck the bowling ball with her thingy-thing. The ball bounces violently and crashes into the remaining pins at the back, sending them all flying.

Ash gently floats back down to the ground. "Yay!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

"Good work, mysterious witch child," Tribore congratulates her, even though he's supposed to be on their team. "Quinn, you're up next."

Quinn might not like bowling, but she's plenty good at it. She easily bowls a perfect strike and their team erupts in cheers. Quinn hurries back to the couch, clearly a little flustered from the attention.

She drops back into her seat next to Gary, and he wraps one arm around her shoulder. "That was incredible," he says.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Flatterer," she says, but he can tell that she's secretly pleased.

Little Cato is up next, and he eagerly jumps out of his seat, smacking Fox with his elbow as he does. The two of them immediately start fighting—they're both talking over each other, so Gary can't make out the words—while gesturing dramatically with their arms. Avocato and Ash look on in confusion and delight respectively.

Quinn leans in a little closer to Gary. "You sure it was a good idea to put Fox and the Ventrexians on the same team?" she asks in a low voice.

But just as quickly as the argument started, it ends. Little Cato picks up a bowling ball and fistbumps Fox, who's laughing now.

Gary smiles fondly. "It's fine," he says. "They're just rowdy. Frankly I'd be more worried if they weren't bickering."

Little Cato skips up to the lane, picking up a bowling ball along the way. "I'm gonna bowl so good," he says, full of excited energy. "I'm gonna bowl SO HARD—"

"C'mon, Cato, you got this!" Avocato cheers from the back. "No son of mine is gonna get beaten by a bunch of Earthlings!"

Little Cato flinches slightly at that. Avocato doesn't notice—and why would he? He doesn't remember being possessed, couldn't possibly understand what those words mean to Little Cato. It's all just playful trash talk to him.

The others notice, though. The rowdy atmosphere is gone now—Fox is suddenly serious, frowning at Avocato, as Ash shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Even Quinn recognizes that something is wrong, though she can't possibly understand the significance of what Avocato said.

"Hey, it's just a game," Fox says quietly. "There's no need to be like that."

Avocato turns to look at Fox. He's puzzled at first, then angry. A scowl settles onto his face.

(Gary feels a sudden irrational flash of fear. I'm not your friend, he remembers Avocato saying. No—Invictus saying. But Invictus in Avocato's body, Invictus speaking as Avocato. Invictus was the one in control, but it was still Avocato's finger on the trigger.)

Quinn's the one who ends up saving the day—because of course she is. She stands up casually and says, "Oh, I just remembered. There's something really important I need to do on the bridge. Can I get some of you kids to help me out?"

It's about as subtle as an Imperium Cruiser, but it works. The tension in the room dissipates almost immediately. "Yeah, okay," Fox says. He and Ash both follow Quinn out of the room, and she gives Gary a pointed look as they leave.

I told you so, her eyes seem to say.

Thank you, Gary mouths back. He'll have to remember to explain the full situation to her later.

"Well, that was bizarre," Tribore says, sounding a little irritated. "I guess game night is over!"

He sashays off without another word, and most of the others follow. Gary turns to face Avocato, who's not angry anymore. Now he just looks confused.

Avocato speaks first. "The big buy is pretty sensitive, huh?" he says. "Sorry. Guess I should learn to watch my mouth."

"It's not your fault," Gary says. "Everyone is just… still a little on edge."

Avocato grimaces. "Because of Invictus."

"Yeah," Gary agrees reluctantly. "Because of Invictus."

Avocato shakes his head slowly, lost in thought. "Figures," he says. "No matter what I do, my past keeps following me. Now I've ruined your bowling night."

"No—you haven't ruined anything," Gary says quickly. "We can still play, you know. Just you and me and—where did Little Cato go?" Gary looks around, but the bowling alley is empty aside from the two of them. "I could've sworn he was still here."

Avocato looks unconcerned. "He's always been like that," he says, smiling at the memory. "Scampering off to get into trouble. When he was younger, he used to disappear for days at a time."

Gary frowns, still a little worried. He knows that Little Cato likes to run off and hide when he's upset. Of course, the ship's pretty crowded—he's probably still with the others, right?

"I guess he went with Quinn earlier," Gary says, more to convince himself than Avocato.

"Yeah, I guess," Avocato agrees. But he sounds a lot less cheerful now. He casts a sidelong glance at Gary, and tentatively adds, "You know, I really don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"You and Quinn. Why are you even into her, man?"

Gary laughs a little uncertainly. "What's not to get? She's brilliant, strong, determined, stunningly beautiful"—at that, Avocato rolls his eyes—"and she has a good heart. I mean—sometimes she tries to act like she doesn't care, but she does. She cares so much. Even after everything, she's still out here, trying to save the universe."

Avocato scrunches up his nose. "Yeah, but isn't she kinda..."

"Kinda what?"

"A bitch," Avocato says frankly. Gary furrows his brow in confusion, thinking for a moment that he must've misheard Avocato. "Come on, man. You don't see it?"

"No?"

"She doesn't respect you," Avocato says. "I saw that look she was giving you," he adds, seeing Gary's bewilderment. "And the way she wouldn't back you up in that argument earlier."

"An argument I was having with you," Gary points out, laughing nervously. "Come on, Avocato. She just doesn't like bowling."

"That's not the only thing," Avocato says. "Back when you saved her life, she couldn't even remember your name afterwards." He starts ticking off items on his fingers. "Then she took over your ship, totally dismissed you as a person, and tried to leave you for dead. If it wasn't for me and HUE, she would've left you behind, and you would have been obliterated by that supernova."

Gary shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "She had the right idea," he says, a little tensely. "You all would have been obliterated if you'd waited a second longer."

"You would've waited for her," Avocato says—and it's true, he would have. But Gary doesn't like what he thinks Avocato is implying. "Don't you deserve someone who's as loyal to you as you are to them?"

Gary grimaces. "That's not fair, Avocato."

"Isn't it?"

"She was trying to save an entire planet," Gary protests. He tries to keep his voice steady, but he's feeling increasingly uneasy, and his voice cracks a little as he continues. "Billions of lives. That's more important than one person—no matter how much she might care about them."

"Does she care about you?" Avocato asks skeptically. "Or does she just care about what you can do for her?"

Oh, Gary really does not like the direction this conversation is going. "Okay, I think that's probably enough…" he says, voice strained.

But Avocato isn't deterred. "Come on, Gary. You'd do anything for her, and she knows it. Do you honestly believe that she's sticking around because she loves you?"

"Avocato—"

"Use your brain for a damn second," he interrupts, practically snarling now. "She didn't even like you. She could barely stand to be around you. What do you think changed? She is using you, man."

"I'm serious, that's enough," Gary says, a slight edge in his voice.

"Quinn is only loyal to herself," Avocato goes on, ignoring Gary's protests. "She doesn't care about you—or anyone else. You never should have come here to rescue her."

White-hot rage flashes in Gary's chest. "I said stop."

Avocato scoffs. "You're better off without her," he says. "She'd leave you behind the moment it was convenient."

"Like you tried to leave me behind on Tera Con Prime?" Gary snaps.

Avocato is taken aback. Gary is too, frankly. He doesn't know where that came from.

But he's too angry to talk right now. He stands up abruptly and turns on his heel, storming out of the room. Avocato is still talking, calling after him, but Gary can't make out any of the words. He can hardly hear anything at all over the sound of the blood rushing through his veins.

They don't care about you. They're dragging you down.

It figures that Avocato would be able to latch onto his deepest, darkest fear. Gary doesn't know how he figured it out, but Avocato wanted to press his buttons and sweet Grandor's glove he did.

He wanders through the halls of the Crimson Light, hands shoved into his pockets, with no particular destination in mind. He hates fighting with people, and he especially hates fighting with Avocato. Everything seemed like it had been going so well! But of course Avocato can never just let things be, he always has to turn everything into some kind of battle…

He's so deep in thought that he doesn't notice his mother sitting on the floor in the cargo bay, and he almost trips over her. He stumbles, catching himself at the last minute against the wall, and Sheryl lifts a single eyebrow at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, feeling irrationally annoyed with her.

"Sharpening some knives," Sheryl answers. She gestures with her chin towards the whetstone placed carefully in front of her, the blade in her hands. Gary's lucky that he didn't impale his foot when he fell. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Gary answers curtly. He shoves his hands back into his pockets and heads back the way he came.

"Got into a fight with your friend?" Sheryl calls after him, her voice casual.

Gary stops in his tracks. He turns back slightly to look at her over his shoulder. "How did you know?"

"I'm a professional con artist, Gary," Sheryl says. "I'm good at reading people."

"Seriously?"

"Nah," Sheryl admits, grinning shamelessly. "Heard you through the walls."

Gary frowns. "Were you—were you spying on our bowling night?" Sheryl shrugs one shoulder half-heartedly, a silent admission of guilt. "Wow. That is extremely creepy," Gary says, but he shuffles back towards her and comes to sit down next to her anyway.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" Sheryl asks. There's an unusual hesitance in her voice, a certain uncharacteristic uncertainty. She's trying to be a mom, but she still doesn't know how.

Gary scowls at the floor. "Not really," he admits. He crosses his arms over his chest, still deep in thought. "I just—I don't understand why he always has to be like this."

"Like what?" Sheryl asks. She doesn't look up from her whetstone, and she continues sharpening her knife as she speaks. "Emotionally distant, suspicious of everyone, unable to form positive relationships…?"

"Yes," Gary says. He narrows his eyes. "Exactly that."

Sheryl smiles sardonically. "He's a soldier, Gary," she says. "It's the only way he knows how to be."

"That's not true." Gary looks away, grimacing. "I know how you feel about him, but you don't know him like I do. There's another side to him."

Sheryl glances sideways at him. She chooses her next words carefully. "Okay. Then what do you wish was different?"

Gary shakes his head slowly. "Those things he said back there, about Quinn. I just…"

He trails off, and Sheryl lifts one eyebrow skeptically. "Don't tell me you think he's right? That your girlfriend doesn't respect you?"

The way she says it—snidely mocking, surprisingly ferocious—makes Gary think that this might be a sensitive subject for her. He puzzles over that for a moment before answering.

"No," he says quietly. "I don't think that at all. I guess it's like you said—Avocato's a soldier. He thinks that respect means…" Gary gestures aimlessly with one hand. "Following orders. Obeying without question. Pledging your undying loyalty to someone."

"You don't agree?"

"Of course not," Gary says. "Avocato doesn't know what he's talking about."

"But he struck a nerve, didn't he?" For the first time, Sheryl stops at her task, and looks directly at Gary. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Not being good enough," Gary admits. He's surprised by how easy it is to say out loud, to confess all his fears to the mother that wasn't even around for thirty years. "Quinn is everything that I'm not. She's the most incredible person I know. What if I'm not good enough for her?"

"Well, do you love her?"

"Yes," Gary answers without hesitation. "More than anything."

"Then why do you care what she thinks?"

"Good Lord," Gary says, stunned. "That is terrible advice. I can see why you and Dad didn't work out."

"Gary, the way I see it, you have two options," Sheryl says. "Either be with her, or don't. If you want to be with her, just be with her."

"What if it's not that simple?"

"It is that simple," Sheryl says. She jabs one finger at his chest. "So cut the crap. Maybe you're right, maybe you're not. Fact is, you can't control that. There's no sense in being self-sabotaging about it."

At that, something clicks in Gary's mind, something he'd been on the verge of understanding for a long time, but hadn't quite understood until his mom laid it out plainly for him. "Self-sabotaging, huh?" he murmurs.

Avocato was good at that, wasn't he? It makes sense. Gary had always secretly wondered how someone like Avocato—charming, handsome, funny—had ended up where he did. But of course it's hard to make friends if you're always looking for an excuse to push people away.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he begins slowly, "but thank you, Mom. That was actually really helpful."

Sheryl offers him a small, nervous smile. "Yeah, sure," she says awkwardly. "Anytime, kiddo."

Gary doesn't confront Avocato right away—he waits for Avocato to come to him. Fortunately it doesn't take nearly as long as he thought it would. After just a few hours, Avocato arrives at his bedroom door, knocking lightly on the frame.

Gary immediately rises from his seat to face him. For a moment, they both stand in silence.

"You're still mad," Avocato says.

"Why would I be mad?" Gary drawls sarcastically. It turns out he's still a little angrier than he thought he was. "All you did was repeatedly insult the moral character of the woman I love."

Avocato narrows his eyes. "Do you have to be so dramatic about it?"

"Yes," Gary says seriously. "Dramatic is the only way I know how to be."

"Okay," Avocato says. He looks down at the ground. "That's not—that didn't go the way I meant it to."

"And how did you mean it?"

Avocato exhales slowly. "I'm sorry, Gary," he says. His eyes are still fixed firmly on his feet. "I shouldn't have said those things about Quinn."

"Yeah. But you still believe them."

Avocato's expression is pained, but he doesn't have a response to that. Because of course he doesn't.

Gary sighs. He should have known that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Avocato," he begins, speaking more gently now, "I don't know what happened to you in the past, but relationships don't have to be quid pro quo. You can love someone just because you love them." He hesitates a moment, running a hand nervously through his air. "And you can trust other people. More than just me, I mean. Quinn and Fox and the others—they want to be your friend, they really do. But you have to let them in first."

Avocato grimaces and looks away. "I can't do that," he says. "I'm not like you."

"You can," Gary says. "Just try. Promise me that you'll try."

Avocato still looks reluctant. But he says, through gritted teeth, "I'll try."

He does try. Avocato stops scowling all the time, and somehow the atmosphere on the whole ship feels a little bit sunnier. Fox stops giving him the evil eye, and Quinn is noticeably more relaxed. He even manages a few friendly conversations with Ash—the two of them bond over a shared love for flamethrowers.

The only person who doesn't seem happier about the change is Little Cato. He's still avoiding his father—and everyone else. Gary doesn't know how he manages it, but Little Cato is like a ghost, appearing only briefly and then vanishing like he was never there. Every time he tries to talk to the kid, he's gone. Gary doesn't manage to have a real conversation with him until he stumbles across him around in the middle of the night, while wandering the ship during a particularly bad bout of insomnia.

"Spidercat, what are you doing up at this hour?"

Little Cato whirls around, startled. "N-nothing. I mean—just taking a little walk."

"A walk?"

"...yes?" Little Cato tries. "Wait—what are you doing up?"

Gary smirks. "Okay, I see your point," he says. "Why don't we both walk together? Maybe you can show me this fabled soda parlor you and Ash keep going on about, and we can get some ice cream or something."

Little Cato hesitates—no doubt searching for an excuse to run away again. But eventually he nods and says, "Yeah, okay. It's this way."

The so-called soda parlor is basically just a glorified kitchen, with a single countertop and a couple of stools. But Gary doesn't let that dull his enthusiasm as he fiddles with the ice cream maker, and eventually manages to convince it to churn out two bowls of soft serve.

The ship's synthesized ice cream is palatable enough—even though the texture is more like cardboard than cream, the flavor is alright. It's hard to mess up chocolate, anyway. Gary nibbles his way through a bowl of the most mediocre chocolate ice cream he's ever had while Little Cato sits quietly across the counter from him, frowning at a bowl of strawberry.

"Do they not have ice cream on Ventrexia?" Gary asks casually, glancing down at Little Cato's mostly untouched ice cream.

"They have ice cream everywhere," Little Cato replies, with all the self-assured confidence of a 14-year-old. Gary smiles.

"Don't like strawberry?" he tries instead.

"It's fine."

Gary mulls on that for a moment, scraping the sides of his bowl with his spoon. "Do you want to talk about whatever's been bugging you these past few days?" he asks directly.

Little Cato scowls at his bowl. "It's just… things with my dad have been weird lately," he says. "My other dad, I mean," he adds quickly, glancing up at Gary.

"Weird how?"

"We were separated for three years," Little Cato says. "I thought that when we were finally reunited, everything was gonna be awesome, but…"

Little Cato shakes his head. "He barely even knows me," he continues. "I know that he's trying, but sometimes it feels like we have nothing in common. I don't know how to talk to him anymore. Or maybe I never knew in the first place."

"Give it time, Spidercat," Gary says. He sets one hand down on Little Cato's shoulder. "I'm sure you guys will get through this."

"What if we don't?"

"You will."

Little Cato looks away, clearly uncomfortable. "What if… I don't want to?"

Gary furrows his brow. He spends a long moment swallowing another bite of ice cream, taking some time to compose his thoughts before finally speaking. "You don't have to have a relationship with anyone that you don't want to," he says carefully. "But I'm curious about why you would want that."

Little Cato scowls. "It's complicated," he says. "When my dad was dead… or when we thought he was dead… I don't know. Things were different. I liked him better that way." Little Cato looks up at Gary guiltily, suddenly realizing just what he said. "I mean—"

"It's okay," Gary interrupts gently. "I understand what you meant. Sometimes it's easier to have a relationship with a memory than a real person. That doesn't mean you love him any less."

"Yeah," Little Cato says, more subdued. "I've been remembering some things lately," he goes on. "You know, stuff he did for the Lord Commander. There was one time when he, um…" He looks away, cringing. "When he and all the other generals, they took their kids and, uh…"

"Were supposed to kill them?" Gary fills in gently.

Little Cato looks up at him, clearly relieved that he didn't have to say it himself. "You knew?"

Gary nods silently. "I can't stop thinking about it," Little Cato admits.

"That's understandable. It was a pretty traumatic moment in your life."

"I just…" Little Cato trails off. He pushes his spoon through his ice cream but still doesn't eat any. "I really thought I was gonna die."

Gary has had moments like that too. He wouldn't wish them on anyone. "I'm sorry, Spidercat."

"He was thinking about it."

Little Cato's voice is perfectly calm, but something about his tone makes Gary suddenly cold. "Thinking about what?" he asks, feeling a growing horror deep in his gut.

"Doing it," Little Cato says. His tone is carefully neutral, placid and detached in an almost robotic way. "Killing me."

"No," Gary says quickly, more reassurance than actual conviction. "No, no, no. I'm sure that's not true."

"It is," Little Cato says. He looks at Gary, wide-eyed and trembling, and finally he breaks. "I saw it," he whispers, choking a little on his words. "In his eyes. He was thinking about it. I—I know he was—"

He cuts off into a sob, and Gary's heart breaks.

"No, no, it's okay," he says, pulling the boy into a hug. Little Cato is crying openly now. "It's okay, I've got you. You're safe now. It's—it's gonna be okay."

Little Cato cries himself out pretty quickly after that, and then falls asleep almost immediately. Gary should probably haul him back to bed, but he lingers for a while, still holding him.

For the first time, he tries to imagine himself in Avocato's shoes. What would it be like to work for the Lord Commander? And not just as some helpless minion, scrubbing floors and fetching him teacakes, but as his top general?

He tries to imagine pointing a gun at his son's head. Tries to imagine resting his finger on the trigger, letting the seconds tick by as he weighs his options, contemplating it. He imagines Little Cato looking up at him in hopeless terror.

Just thinking about it makes him nauseous.

He would never. Not in a million, billion years. He wouldn't consider it for a single second—not even to save his own life. Not even to save the entire universe.

He tries to imagine the kind of person who would do that.

He doesn't like it.

Chapter Text

"I mean—what the crap? What kind of person does something like that?"

Quinn takes a long, slow slip from her coffee and doesn't say anything. She looks like she would rather be in bed—bleary-eyed, still dressed in robe and slippers—but to Gary's immense relief she isn't complaining about the early hour. She watches seriously as Gary paces around the room, rambling frantically.

"Little Cato is an emotional wreck," he continues. "He doesn't want anything to do with Avocato anymore—and honestly I don't blame him."

Quinn is still silent. "Fox tried to warn me," Gary goes on, "but I didn't understand. I thought it was just—just—you know, Invictus stuff!" He waves one hand in the air in front of him. "I didn't realize that he had all these deep, unaddressed traumas!"

Quinn takes another sip of her coffee. "Gary," she finally says, "you're an idiot."

"Yes, I am aware, Quinn!" Gary snaps. "You're not helping!"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Avocato was the Lord Commander's second-in-command," she says dryly. "How did you think he got there? By being a nice person?"

"I mean—maybe," Gary says. Quinn arches one eyebrow. "He could have been manipulated, or coerced somehow…"

"Second. In. Command," Quinn repeats.

Gary sighs and flops down into a chair next to her. "You're right," he admits. "Of course you're right." He presses one hand to his mouth, anxiously running through scenarios in his mind. "But what should we do about it?"

"Nothing," Quinn says, shrugging.

"Noth—nothing?" Gary stutters.

"Little Cato is going to have to decide for himself what kind of relationship he wants to have with his father," Quinn says. She shrugs again. "All we can do is support him."

"What about Avocato?"

"What about him?"

Gary leans back in his chair, suddenly hesitant. "Do you… think we can trust him?

Quinn exhales slowly. She thinks for a long time before she speaks. "I don't think we have a choice," she says. "If we want to get our of here, we're all going to have to trust one another."

Gary watches her, pensive for a moment. Those are words he never thought he'd hear out of Quinn Ergon's mouth. "You've changed," he says.

Quinn is silent for so long he doesn't think she's going to answer. But eventually she murmurs, so quiet that he can barely hear it, "So have you."

Avocato notices that something's changed right away, but he doesn't get angry. He's cool about it. He gives Gary his space and is extra nice to Quinn in the commissary. All that work he's put in over the last few weeks has really paid off. He's friendly with Fox, he jokes around with HUE, he even fondly ruffles Ash's hair. He ruffles her hair!

Avocato is finally getting along with everyone. It's everything he could have wanted yesterday. But today, all he can think about is the panic in Little Cato's eyes. Watching Avocato act normal after that is unbearable.

"Hey, Avocato," Ash asks, oblivious to Gary's mental turmoil. "I was wondering if you could help me with this thing I found in the armory? I think it's supposed to be a cannon, but I don't know how it works."

"Sure thing," Avocato says. He's all smiles as he looks towards Gary. "You wanna come too?" he asks.

"No thanks," Gary says, a little too quickly. It comes out harsher than he intended, and Ash frowns at him in concern. He forces a small smile and adds, "There are some repairs I should really get to."

"Oh, okay," Avocato says. He looks concerned too, brows slightly furrowed, but he doesn't press the issue. "See you later, man."

It's weird. Gary watches as they walk away and wonders how Avocato, his best friend, the super fun chill dude to hang out with, could also be Avocato the general, Avocato the second-in-command, Avocato the slaughterer of billions. It doesn't make any sense. Trying to reconcile the two sides of him is like trying to align an out-of-date starmap. They just don't fit together.

How can he act so normal? How can he be so normal? Gary tries to imagine the kind of person who would contemplate killing their own son, and nowhere in that profile is funny or charming or plays a mean game of Go Fish. He feels a strange revulsion at the thought that someone like Avocato could have this entire other life that he knows nothing about.

He mulls over that thought for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, until he's startled into attention by AVA. "Gary," she says, her voice emotionless but urgent, "we have a situation in the armory."

Gary is on his feet in a second. "Avocato?" he asks, feeling his heart leap.

"It's Ash," AVA says tersely. "She's out of control."

As if punctuating AVA's sentence, the whole ship begins to shake, like they just got hit with a missile or something. Gary starts running as an alarm begins blaring throughout the Crimson Light.

"What do you mean, she's out of control?" he calls out while he runs.

"I mean, she's out of control," AVA repeats. "We just passed through a localized spike in spacetime density, and somehow that activated her powers. If she keeps this up much longer, she's going to tear the ship apart."

By the time he reaches the armory, the ship is cracking and groaning in a truly terrifying way. Ash is hovering in the middle of the room, several feet off the floor, looking catatonic as power emanates off her in waves. Ash's powers have always been volatile, but she's never gotten out of control like this. Gary doesn't know what set her off, but if she keeps this up much longer, the Crimson Light is gonna end up in more pieces than a jigsaw puzzle.

"Ash!" Gary shouts. "You gotta calm down!"

Avocato is on the ground on the far side of the room, wincing under the force of Ash's power. "Gary, what the hell is going on?" he shouts across the room.

Gary ignores him. "Ash, listen to me—"

He's cut off by a sudden burst of power that knocks him down to the ground. On the other side of the room, Avocato is still shouting. "We have to stop her!"

"I know," Gary says through gritted teeth. Forcing himself back up to his knees, he tries calling out to Ash again. "Ash, if you can hear me, I need you to just dial it back a little."

"Gary—"

"I know!" Gary snaps. "Ash, please—"

He's knocked down again by another wave of power. "The ship isn't going to survive another blast like that," AVA warns overhead, voice staticky. "You need to stop her now."

"I'll do it," Avocato says. Gary doesn't understand what he means at first. But then Avocato reaches down for one of his blasters, and the whole world feels like it's in slow motion. He aims the gun at Ash. Gary's eyes widen in horror as he realizes what he's about to do.

"NO, DON'T—!" he screams, but it's too late.

Avocato's first shot misses, but the second lands true. The blast hits Ash square in the chest and she slumps forward, hovering momentarily in place before the dark aura surrounding her evaporates into nothingness and she plummets back down towards the floor.

Gary curses under his breath as he runs towards her—real swears this time, not the minced oaths he usually opts for. He throws himself forward and manages to catch her before she hits the ground—or, at least, manages to soften her fall with his own body.

"Ash, are you still with me?" He cradles her body gently in his arms, sparing a quick moment to check her wound. Avocato's blaster completely mangled her suit, but she's not bleeding—her powers must have acted as some kind of shield to soften the blow.

Avocato steps towards him, blaster still in hand, like he thinks Ash is still some kind of threat. "Gary, I had to do something," he says. His voice is pained, not quite apologetic. "She was gonna kill us all."

Rationally, Gary knows that. But he also knows that he doesn't want to hear it right now.

"Get the hell away from me," he growls.

Quinn is the first to arrive in the infirmary. She must've sprinted the whole way here, and she has to take a moment to catch her breath before she can finally speak.

"What the hell happened?" She takes a step towards Ash, watching with growing horror as robotic arms cut her open for surgery.

"Ash lost control," Gary says distantly. He feels strangely numb—detached from the whole situation. "Avocato took her down."

"Avocato—?" Quinn begins. She glances back at Gary, then turns back to look at Ash again. "Is she…?"

"Ash will survive," AVA confirms curtly. "But she will need several weeks to recover."

"Where's Avocato?"

Gary shakes his head. There's bile in the back of his throat. "I don't want him anywhere near her," he says, voice trembling.

Quinn lifts her eyebrows at that. Then she becomes very, very serious. "You think he went too far," she says flatly.

Gary's eyes widen in disbelief. "Of course I do," he says, voice cracking. "She's just a kid. I have a responsibility to look after her, and Avocato just tried to kill her."

Quinn sets her mouth in a line. "What would have happened if he hadn't intervened?"

"What would have—?" Gary asks incredulously. And suddenly it's like a dam has broken, and all the feelings he was trying to keep bottled up come bursting out. "Don't tell me you're on his side!"

"I'm on our side," Quinn says, keeping her voice carefully level. "I don't like it any more than you do. But let's be realistic for a second, Gary."

"Realistic?" Gary lets out a bark of laughter, sharp and painful. He's angry now. Really angry. "You thinking shooting a kid in cold blood is realistic?"

Quinn looks irritated now. "You said she lost control!" she snaps. "What alternative did he have?"

"I don't know, maybe something like NOT SHOOTING HER!"

Quinn is trying to stay calm, but she starts raising her voice too. "So what, you'd rather let everyone else on the ship die instead?"

"That's not what this is about."

"That's exactly what this is about!"

"Why are you defending him? You never even liked him!"

"I'm not defending—"

"He tried to kill Ash!"

"He was saving everyone else on the ship!"

"By shooting a kid?" Gary starts pacing, full of frantic energy. "How can you even think that's okay? Are you really telling me that you'd kill a child just to—"

"I WOULD!" Quinn shouts, and for a moment Gary is stunned into silence. Once Quinn realizes what she's said, she looks a little stunned too. "I would," she repeats, quieter now. "I'd sacrifice any one person to save the rest of the crew. You know I would."

He knows. Quinn is utilitarian to a fault. He was okay with that when it was his life on the line, and he could even force himself to accept it when it she was sacrificing herself. But throwing a kid into the mix just feels weird, like the math is all wrong. Except the math isn't wrong. Her reasoning is solid and the numbers add up. He just doesn't like it.

All the anger drains out of him and he's left feeling empty. "You wouldn't have… done that," he finishes lamely.

Quinn exhales slowly and lets some of the tension out of her posture. "Maybe, maybe not," she says. "I wasn't there. But does it really matter?"

"It matters to me." Gary turns back to look at Ash, laid out on the operating table. "It matters because I know you're a good person, just trying to do the right thing."

"And you think Avocato isn't?"

Gary shakes his head slowly. "I don't know what I think," he admits. "That's what scares me."

"I think," Quinn says gently, "that you're angry right now. Not just about this—about everything. And you're letting that cloud your vision."

Quinn tilts her head towards the doorway. They can both hear footsteps in the hallway outside, quickly growing louder as they approach. The others will be arriving soon. "I'll explain to Fox and Little Cato," she says. "We can talk about this again later, when your head is clearer."

Gary grimaces. "What if… that doesn't change anything?"

"Then," Quinn says, "we'll have a lot to talk about."

Quinn was right—at least partially. As the hours tick away, Gary's rage burns down into an uncomfortable muddle of other feelings: confusion, hurt, worry. He's still angry, but it's just a simmer. The rest of his emotions are like a mushy, overcooked stew boiling over on top of it. He is a reconstituted soup of unhappiness.

Okay, that metaphor got away from him—the point is, he feels bad. After hours spent keeping a silent vigil by Ash's side, Fox finally convinced him to go take a break, or at least get something to eat. But he's not hungry and he can't sit still. So he wanders around the nooks and crannies of the Crimson Light, full of restless energy, until at long last he finds Avocato, sitting alone in the bridge.

Avocato looks shocked to see him. But he recovers quickly.

"Gary, I know you're mad—" he begins.

"Wait," Gary interrupts. Avocato obediently falls silent, and Gary looks away.

There are a lot of things he could say. There are a lot of things he should say.

"What made you decide not to kill Little Cato?" he asks instead. His voice is low and quiet, but there's an unmistakable undercurrent of anger in his tone.

"What?"

"You were going to do it." Gary looks back at Avocato now, meeting his eyes directly, daring him to challenge the assertion. "But something changed your mind at the last minute. I want to know what."

Avocato is surprised at first. Then, slowly, he closes himself off—the same way he always does. "I didn't do it. That's all that matters."

"That's not all that matters to me."

Now Avocato looks annoyed. "What do you want from me, Gary? I messed up, and I did some real bad stuff. The reasons aren't important."

"They're not," Gary agrees. "But I need to know what changed."

Avocato laughs bitterly. "You don't trust me anymore," he says.

"I want to trust you," Gary says, and it's true. He wants that more than anything, He just wants things to go back to the way they used to be.

But Avocato isn't in a cooperative mood. "You think I'm some kind of monster," he says, full of self-loathing.

"Avocato, that's not it—"

"Isn't it?"

"No," Gary says firmly. "I just—I want to understand. Please, Avocato."

Avocato goes quiet for a moment. "I told you already," he finally says. "The Lord Commander ruined me. I thought you understood that, but I guess not."

He starts to leave but Gary reaches out and grabs him by the wrist as he passes by. "No," he says desperately. "No. That's not how it works. You're not ruined. Good and evil aren't states of being—they're choices. And they're choices that we have to make again and again. I don't care about what you did in the past. I just need to know that you're choosing good now."

Avocato looks Gary in the eye. They're standing so close that Gary has to tilt his head slightly to look at him. "There are only two people in the entire galaxy that I care about," Avocato says, "and I would do anything to keep the two of you safe. Anything. Good or evil, it doesn't make a difference to me. And if you've got a problem with that… then maybe the list of people I care about is back down to one."

Avocato's words feel like a knife jabbed directly into Gary's heart. Getting shot hurt less than this. "You—" he begins, voice cracking. "You can't mean that."

But Avocato's expression doesn't waver. He wrenches his arm out of Gary's grip. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought you did," he says.

That's where his mom finds him, not long after, still deep in thought. He hasn't left the bridge since Avocato stormed off, and he doesn't acknowledge Sheryl at all as she walks in.

"Hey, kiddo," she says. "Mind if I join you?"

Gary expects an I-told-you-so, but Sheryl doesn't say it. She doesn't say anything at all, in fact. She just sits near him, silent and patient, until Gary finally speaks.

"What?" he asks, too tired to be snide. "You're not going to say it?"

Sheryl smiles sympathetically. "Do I really need to?"

Gary lets out a puff of laughter and leans back against one of the control panels. "Fine," he says. "I'll say it." He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, steeling himself for what he's about to say. "I'm scared that you were right," he admits. "That I don't know what kind of person Avocato is, that he might..."

He trails off. He doesn't want to finish that sentence, and Sheryl doesn't force him to.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Gary shakes his head. "I don't know."

He taps his foot anxiously and tries to turn his churning thoughts into coherent words. "He's my best friend," he says. "But it's like there's—this other person, somebody I've never met before. And that guy isn't Avocato… but he is. You know?"

"No," Sheryl says flatly.

Gary looks up towards the ceiling. "Yeah, I don't either," he admits. "I just… I don't understand how the guy who loves his son more than anything can be the same guy who nearly killed his son."

Sheryl laughs at that. "He doesn't love his son," she says. "He loves the idea of his son."

Even after everything, Gary bristles at the thought. "Mom, how can you say that? Avocato died for Little Cato. He spent three years trying to get him back. He loves him more than anything."

Sheryl scoffs. "That's not love," she says. "That's just being parent."

"Because you would know so much about that," Gary drawls sarcastically.

"Well, I do know a few things," Sheryl says lightly. "I went through a lot for you, you know. Morning sickness, diabetes, preeclampsia, the whole shebang. The doctors wanted me to terminate the pregnancy. They didn't think I was healthy enough to have you. But I went through with it anyway."

Gary furrows his brow at that, and Sheryl smiles reassuringly. "Not because I loved you," she continues. Her voice is surprisingly gentle. "I mean, how could I? You didn't even exist yet. You were just a half-formed lump of flesh that was trying to kill me. But I thought I wanted a baby, and that was what I loved. Not you."

Gary shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Things that didn't make sense before start to click into place. "I didn't know that," he says quietly.

Sheryl shakes her head. "Just you wait," she says, some of the venom returned to her tone. "You'll see how quickly Avocato is willing to cast his son aside once the fantasy is shattered." She hesitates a moment, and then adds, "Just like I did to you."

"You came back," Gary points out.

"I didn't," Sheryl says. "You dragged me back. I was kicking and screaming the whole way."

"But you're here now."

"Does it matter?" Sheryl gestures half-heartedly with one hand. "I think we both know that I'd have left already if I could. I'm never going to be the mother that you want. That you deserve."

Gary looks away. "Maybe we never get the parents that we deserve."

"That doesn't mean you have to have a relationship with them."

"Maybe not," Gary concedes. "Maybe… I want to try anyway."

Sheryl looks away too. She's staring at the wall next to her but her eyes are distant, like she's really looking at something else entirely. "You're an idiot," she finally says. "If you keep forgiving people who don't deserve it, they're just going to keep hurting you."

At that, Gary cracks a genuine smile. "I can't help it," he says, laughing at himself a little. "It's just who I am. I don't know how else to be."

Sheryl presses her lips together. Her eyes look suspiciously wet, but she's smiling too, just a little bit. "Don't know where you got that from," she eventually says. "Not from me. Definitely not from your father."

"I like to think that I'm an improvement on both of you," Gary jokes. His mom laughs, and for the first time in his life he feels… something. Like they're more than just strangers. Like maybe this could really work.

The moment doesn't last long. "You're really going to forgive him?" Sheryl asks, growing serious again. She's talking about Avocato.

"I think I have to."

Sheryl doesn't go for the obvious retort. She doesn't look happy about it, but she doesn't fight him either. Like he said earlier—this is just who he is. "Be careful," she says instead. She sounds genuinely worried about him.

Gary smiles again. "Thanks, Mom."

When he finds Avocato, he's back in his room with the door left open. There's a bag on the bed that he's hastily shoving clothes into. He glances up briefly when he hears Gary's knock on the doorframe, then scowls and throws himself back into his task. Gary stares blankly at the scene before him.

"What—what are you doing?"

"Leaving," Avocato says curtly. "I don't belong here anymore."

The wheels in Gary's head spin out trying to comprehend that statement. Leaving? Where? They're trapped in Final Space, there's nowhere to even go. "Avocato, you can't just—"

"I can do whatever I want!" Avocato snarls.

Gary flinches. He doesn't know how to respond to that, but he doesn't get a chance to anyway. The sound of a commotion in the hall doesn't go unnoticed, and suddenly there's a whole crowd—HUE and Fox and Little Cato all peeking out of their rooms.

Avocato ignores everyone except Little Cato. "Pack your things," he tells him. "We're going."

"Going?" Little Cato looks bewildered.

"Avocato, you cannot possibly survive on your own in Final Space," HUE interjects, trying to be helpful.

"I'll manage." Avocato looks back at Little Cato, frowning. "I said pack your things."

Little Cato looks from Gary to Avocato and back again. "No," he says slowly.

Avocato looks at Gary too. Gary suddenly wishes that he was somewhere far, far away from here. "You're really gonna choose him over me? Over your own father?"

Little Cato scowls. "No," he says. "I'm choosing all of them. I'm choosing to have a normal life—a family."

"I am your family."

"Then why don't you act like it?!" Little Cato shouts. Everyone stares at Little Cato in stunned silence, but he doesn't seem to notice. "You never used to be around! You never even acted like you cared about me before! And ever since you've come back—"

Little Cato cuts off abruptly. When he doesn't start up again, Avocato speaks instead. "You have no idea what I gave up for you," he says. He takes a step forward—not in a menacing way, but when Avocato is angry he's like a thundercloud—and there's a real flash of fear in Little Cato's eyes.

Gary edges forward too, throwing an arm between Avocato and his son. "Avocato, wait," he begs. "It doesn't have to be like this. We can still work things out."

Avocato narrows his eyes. He looks between Gary and Little Cato, scowl deepening with every passing second. "So that's how it is," he says bitterly.

Then he straightens his back, sets his shoulders. The scowl drops from his face and is replaced with a cool mask of indifference. He zips up his bag and throws it over one shoulder, then pushes past everyone out of his room. Hestarts walking towards the gravity elevator at the end of the hall.

"He's not… really leaving, is he?" Fox asks quietly. Little Cato shakes his head slightly, eyes wide with shock.

Gary doesn't know what to say. Or—he doesn't know the right thing to say. He just starts talking without thinking, letting his emotions take over. "This is what you always do, isn't it?" he says. "You leave people before they have the chance to hurt you."

Avocato doesn't say anything to that. He keeps walking without so much as a glance over his shoulder. Every footstep has an ominous thud of finality.

"Come on, Avocato," Gary calls after him, angry now. "I know you don't want to spend the rest of your life alone."

Avocato stops at the edge of the gravity elevator. There's a moment where it looks like he's considering it, like he's going to turn around and they're gonna work things out. He glances back over his shoulder, and any minute now he's gonna walk back. They're gonna do the clasp of friends, and everything is gonna be okay. Avocato opens his mouth like he's about to speak, then closes it again.

His expression hardens. "You have no idea what I want," he says.

Then he leaves.