Chapter Text
The thing about the stars is that they’re far from each other. Light travels fast, and quantum pairings even faster, but alas. It's often far from enough. A cry for help could travel for years before it got near another star, too late to do anything anymore. But sometimes, rarely, somebody would manage to bump into a lucky star, bringing news.
Every star had a Child. It’s very essence, character and music that managed to get just dense enough to form a living being, a being of great power, a being that existed as long as the star did, sometimes longer.
Chances that two Starchildren from different star systems would meet each other were ridiculously small.
If a Starchild got too far away from their star, their powers would weaken, and they would start to get colder and colder, until they would fade, body turning into stone and metal, all heat siphoned away from them by the cruel void. It could take millenia, but it would happen sooner or later. The same fate would befall any Starchild who lost their star, unless another one found them, and shared their energy. Both of them were going to fade sooner than the healthy should have, but far, far later than the sick would have on their own.
Living, existing for so long sometimes was exhausting. Being alone in all of that, even more. But more often than not, Starchildren came to be in star systems with more than one star, born as siblings, fated to exist together in their eternal dance.
With great power came a need to use it.
Three major groups emerged, finding different uses.
The Archivists, who seek to preserve, observe and collect all beautiful things in the universe.
The Gatekeepers, whose goal is to guard the Gates between worlds and keeping the wormholes accessible.
And the Players, who liked to have planets to control, to nurture and create life.
The Collector knew all of that. He was a smart little Archivist, born from the death of another one, in the heat of a neutron star.
The universe is infinite, the stars burn bright, and his siblings were mad at him for not being the one from before.
So they weren’t surprised, not much, when the Snap happened.
The Archivists, his siblings, their companions for eternity, left him alone. That hurt.
The Collector was young, far too young to be so far from their star, still forming, not yet in full power. But being alone was a fate that a lot of Starchildren share.
The Archivists, though. The Archivists had done something that even a fully developed Starchild would have trouble surviving.
They destroyed his star.
His siblings , for all intents and purposes, killed him.
It hurt. It hurt so much. Even trapped in the In Between, he screamed, thrashed and wailed, all kinds of pain filling his body. Everything became blurry, the world became a mess.
And then Belos found them.
Maybe they weren't so alone anymore?
*******
The Collector was alone. Again.
King, Luz, Eda, Raine, all the witches and humans he met, all the beings he hurt . They were safe in their binary plane of reality.
He wouldn’t hurt them anymore.
He told them he was going to the stars, to learn and grow up.
He lied .
It was the first lie they told in their existence.
The Collector knew well that they would never grow up. How? Their star was destroyed, their siblings would never share their life with him.
He could still learn, but for what? To hurt more people?
They knew that King was going to be the greatest Titan ever. It was King after all. His friends were safe in the paws of his best buddy.
So just as he left the boundary of The Boiling Isles, and found himself in the cold, wast, biting void of the universe he curled up on himself, clutching Francois and crying, little twinkling stars pushing him in a random direction.
He was going to fade. He knew it.
There was a deep, crackling cold in his bones, in the very core of his being, mocking him. It hurt, somewhat, but mostly he just felt numb, a far cry from the rot that had possessed him when Belos was The Isles. That had hurt , with millions of pinpricks and crackling of rotting bone. The cold just made him sleepy, miserable and dizzy, flashes of pain only sometimes rattling his head.
They wondered how long it would take.
Days? Months? Years? Centuries?
They hoped it would be quick.
*****
For Alnilam, it was another day as everyday. The Stargate was quiet, no humans wanting to cross, no Others wanting to attack. His star burned bright, last bits of hydrogen synthesizing into helium, and his mortal realm friends phoned him to ask for directions, so he wasn’t all that lonely.
He floated idly on an elongated orbit around his star, playing with a stray comet from the debris belt. Al was content, if maybe a bit bored.
His part of the universe was a good one.
Drrrri!
Somewhere in the back of his mind an alarm tingled.
Somebody crossed his border, another Starchild perhaps.
He hummed, and with a graceful leap shot himself in the direction of the breach. It was nice to have guests, maybe Minty finally decided to take up his offer of coffee and a talk, or maybe Nitak came to play-wrestle again.
When he arrived at the place that he felt was disturbed, no one was there to greet . He frowned, letting a bit of his power wash over the debris that floated around.
Nothing, unless they’re hidin….
Oh. Oh no. Oh fuck no. No, no, no.
No one was here. No one healthy, that is.
Between the debris, a small, faintly warm figurine floated, curled up.
Too small. Too cold.
His eyes widened, and in a fraction of a second he was near the kid, gently taking them in his arms.
The kid was small, clearly not even halfway formed, but already cold, as cold as a human.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…..
They were wearing classic Archivist pajamas, clutching a clearly human in creation stuffed rabbit, curled up on themself, as if trying to shield from the cold.
A fading kid. How. HOW?! Fuck, Alnilam, get yourself in control, they need help.
If it’s not too late… No, for fucks sake, not again.
He took off his cape, wrapped the kid in it and hugged them closer, hoping that it would at least keep them warm enough to not fade completely while he tried to get to his star.
Time was his biggest enemy.
****
The Collector was drifting in and out of consciousness for who knows how long. Nothing ever changed around him, maybe the stars in the background. The cold was mind numbing, and they welcomed it.
Until something changed. There was warmth again. There was somebody? They weren’t sure. A vaguely familiar sound ringed in his ears.
A…heartbeat…? No… Not the mortal one….
King?
They frowned, trying to listen better.
No, not King. It wasn’t the steady thwump-bom-clinck, thwump-bom-clinck of a Titan.
It sounded like his siblings, but not. It was different.
Different power level.
Dam-badum, dam-badum,dam-badum … And the buzzing…
He was warmer. That was nice.
Dam-badum…
Dam-badum…
Dam…badum…
Dam…badum….
Their consciousness waned again, the sound fading from their ears.
What was the sound again?
Probably… nothing important…
****
Mumbling quiet words of reassurance towards the stiff form in his arms, Alnilam raced to his star, a bright, extremely hot blue giant, that generated far more power than he would ever need to live.
He could share.
It wouldn’t hurt him.
…Not much, anyway.
And the kid needed power, needed warmth, needed a star . He was sure that or they didn’t have one, or their star was so far away that it couldn't feed a still forming form.
In less than twenty hours he managed to arrive near enough that the strong rays started slowly thawing the kid, but it wasn’t enough. He had to get them to the core of the star, forge a connection, get a stable source of power and energy that the kid needed.
His mind was constantly swinging from “ Fuck, don’t fade on me kid ” through “ You are so sweet, actually, the Archivists council can suck it, I’m keeping you there ” to “ WHOEVER HURT THEM WILL FEEL MY IRE! ” and a myriad of other, less important in the moment things, like calculating the right amount of energy for the first transfer so the kid doesn’t get zoomies just after practically dying, or wondering what will his mortal coworkers think when on Bring Your Child to Work Day he actually will bring one, even after explaining to them repeatedly that he couldn't have kids in any way.
The blue ball of heated gas loomed closer, promising safety and warmth.
****
The Collector screamed . Around them was so much power, raw, raw, absolutely raw power, just at their fingertips, just beyond reach.
The steady, high-pitched buzzing of a big, hot star was deafening in their ears.
There was a crushing pressure around them, violently heating their body up, remolding it, tearing into their bones, thawing whatever the ice claimed.
It hurt.
It hurt as much as losing their star did, but in a million other ways, even if it weirdly felt good , kind of like the baths in the Boiling Sea did, only multiplied to the point of pain.
Their senses snapped taunt again, powers returning in a flash of dark spots behind closed eyelids.
Everything was sharp , sharp like in the moment they were born.
The Collector screamed , faintly aware of harmonizing with a star, a half forgotten memory itching at the back of his mind.
After something that felt like eternity, the pain dissipated, leaving only faint sparks of power running through them.
Deep in their chest they could feel a connection. They could feel a star.
I…I have a star? I have a star!
Tears, a weird reaction they picked up from King, ran unbridled on their checks.
Safe, safe, safe, safe…. I have a star! I’m alive!
There was someone with them, holding them gently.
Someone that felt like their new star.
-Hey, kid. It’s okay, it’s okay… You are safe now. I got you.- a deep, rumbling voice soothed him, the vague sensation of someone running circles on their hand with a thumb reminding them of the time on the Boiling Isles.
The Collector fell asleep, dreaming of his friends in another worlds.
_________________________________________________________________________
Say hello to Al, he is in the middle.