#arala

Something in his chest shuddered and his vision nearly blacked out as he sagged to the side. A beat passed, then Soren was yelling, and he was being shifted, the walls blurring around him. There was a ship-wide shudder, and he was rolled onto his side, injured shoulder in the air, hands clamping down on the blaster wound. White-hot pain flashed through his spine, a shudder running through his body.

“-los. Talos, look at me!” Soren’s hand held his head off the cold metal floor (he’d always known her touch from the others, something soft and ribbed with steel). “Just stay awake, okay? You’re going to be alright.” Her voice was frantic, thumbs tracing the ridges of his chin.

He gave a shallow nod, hissing when an odd pull at his back made the pain flare again. He coughed, and an an odd whistling sound echoed through his chest. A steady hand wrapped around his shoulder, pain flaring at the steady touch, and Fury’s voice echoed in his ear.

“Ho there, friend,” he said. “Just chill. You’ll be fine.”

“Hng.” His voice was rough with pain. “You . . . owe me.” A full-body shudder went through him, Soren holding him tighter as he started to shiver.

“What?”

A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Fifty bucks. Venus flytrap.”

Fury let out a disbelieving laugh. “Alright, man, when you’re feeling better we’ll just see if you can turn into a bug-eating plant.”

Talos’ grin widened, then he hissed and bared his teeth as Fury pushed more pressure against his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” Fury whispered. “Just gotta stop the bleeding.”

Talos tried to quiet his shivering, but his body wouldn’t listen. Fury had to press him into the floor to keep adequate pressure on the wound. Soren cradled his head and ran her fingers down his face.

“Arala, sweetheart, stay over there,” Soren called.

Arala. Her name is Arala. His thoughts were slowly going fuzzy, but Soren’s words sent a painfully wonderful flash of warmth through his chest.

“I’ve got her,” Maria’s voice called, and there was a scuffle of footsteps.

Talos shifted, pressing his cheek into Soren’s palm. “Arala,” he whispered. “‘S a good name.”

Soren’s hands gently gripped his face. “I’ve told her about you, about her father who would never stop looking until he found us.”

Talos smiled, eyelids slipping to half-lidded. There was a sudden jerk in his chest and then he was coughing, raspy heaves that left him lightheaded. Soren’s hands tightened, and Fury rubbed an uninjured spot on his back until the fit passed, leaving him exhausted and limp on the floor.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, air whistling in his throat and something pushing down on his lungs. The shivering had faded, along with feeling in his hands. He could feel his heartbeat in his neck, growing slower.

“No, no, buddy,” he heard Fury say, and there was an odd twisting feeling under his scapula. “Stay awake, Talos. Stay with us.”

He was growing cold, Soren and Fury’s hands near feaverish through his coat and against his face. Something in him was slipping, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t hold onto it.

He reached out and weakly grabbed at Fury’s collar. His hand fell short, but Fury grabbed his wrist before it fell to the ground. “Easy there,” he said. “Just relax.”

Talos hissed, “Get-” A fresh cough destroyed his words, and Fury pressed a comforting hand to his uninjured shoulder. Talos shook his head and pulled Fury closer. He leaned down, worry in his eyes. Talos tugged until Fury’s ear was close to his mouth.

He whispered, his voice watery with blood and near-breathless, “Keep them safe.”

With that, his body relaxed. His hearing fogged over, erasing Fury’s yelling and Soren’s voice. The pain faded, and his vision blackened at the corners.

The last thing he saw was Soren’s face, streaked with tears and pleading in her beautiful eyes. He tried to smile, the muscles around his mouth twitching, then his vision blinked out and he fell into the dark.

It didn’t take Carol long to find where Maria had landed the ship. It was surprisingly close, though her perception of distance was likely warped by how quickly she could fly.

She touched down and let the glow fade from her skin, a smile swimming across her face as she walked towards the lowered rear ramp. Most of the refugees were outside the ship, hands held up to their eyes as they looked around. The children were all bunched together, some poking at the dirt or gently touching what little plant life grew around them. One had Goose in their arms, face pressed to the flerken’s fluffy side. They were all quiet, though, and worry was clear on some of their faces.

Maria walked down the ramp, Talos’ child held in her arms.

Something felt very, very wrong.

Carol sprinted the rest of the way to her friend’s side, calling out as she ran, “Maria, what’s going on?”

Talos’ daughter had her head buried in Maria’s neck, small shudders going through her small body. Maria made soothing noises and, as Carol came to a stop beside her, turned so that the girl couldn’t see into the ship.

“Talos got hurt,” Maria said, her voice a whisper. “They’re doing what they can, but . . .” She shot a look into the ship, and the girl whimpered.

Carol nodded and gently placed her hand on the girl’s back. “Hey, kiddo. Don’t worry, your dad’s a tough piece of work.”

The young Skrull just tightened her grip around Maria’s neck. Carol looked into Maria’s eyes, nodded, and ran onto the ship.

Talos was stretched out on the floor, tilted into his right side as Fury pressed his hand to an injury on Talos’ back. His forearms were smeared with purple blood. Soren had her husband’s head pillowed on her lap, hands gently stroking his face. There were tear tracks running down her cheeks, and she was whispering quietly enough that Carol couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Carol went to kneel next to Fury, laying a hand on Talos’ side as she knelt down. The Skrull didn’t react to her touch, and he looked unnaturally still. Her eyes flicked up to his face. Talos’ eyes were open, but half-lidded and unblinking.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

“He’s bleeding out,” Fury said, pushing harder against Talos’ back. “We need a clamp, or a cautery, or something.” He hissed as his grip slipped and more blood oozed down over his hand, staining the floor with purple.

Medical kits were still stashed under the copilot’s seat. Carol whispered a quick thanks to returning impulses and muscle memory as she skidded back at Fury’s side, quickly rifling through bandages and medications.

She cursed under her breath as nothing useful came up. “This is all there is,” Carol said, her heartbeat ticking up. Her power responded, a quick flash of color running between her fingertips.

They both looked at her hands, then up at each other.

Fury said, “Think that’ll work?”

“I don’t think we have much choice.” Carol swallowed back the panic crawling up her throat and pressed one hand to Soren’s shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting touch. “We’re going to stop the bleeding.”

Soren nodded. “Do it.” She tightened her grip on Talos, leaning over his head and pressing him to the ground.

Carol blinked and sat close to Fury, finally getting a good look at the wound.

She’d seen plenty of injury during her years with Starforce, gut wounds that killed slowly, headshots that didn’t cauterize all the way through and leaked brain matter, missing limbs, sucking chest wounds.

This one still managed to turn her stomach.

She could tell that it was a blaster shot. It had melted the edges of Talos’ coat to his skin and cracked his shoulder blade, and she could hear the wet whistle of air slowly filling his chest cavity. Bone shards bristled from around the jagged hole, gleaming in muscle. Purple blood stained the floor around them. It was only thanks to the semi-blaster proof material of his coat that he hadn’t been shot through.

Carol let out a deep breath and put her hands over Fury’s. “Ready when you are.”

“Right.” He shifted on his feet. “Three. Two. One!”

He dropped his hands away from Talos’ back, purple blood hardly getting a chance to start welling again before Carol pushed her hands onto the injury. She swallowed and let out a deep breath. She closed her eyes and reached deep, down to that spark resting in her chest. Letting the fire come slowly, the light filled the room as it spilled down her shoulders and through her hands. She didn’t give it free rein, holding it tight and close, like a welder’s flame seeping through her skin.

It took a moment for the fresh pain and smell of burning tissue to pull Talos back from wherever he had been, his eyes clearing and body twitching. He groaned and started to struggle.

“Talos, no,” Soren said, curling around his head and pressing her hand to the front of his chest. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

His face twisted, eyes clenched shut and teeth bared. A broken, painful noise echoed in his throat, and Soren pressed her forehead to his. Fury pinned his hips to the floor, helping hold him still while Carol worked.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she whispered, heat rising from her hands. Blood hissed and curled around her fingers as it touched her skin.

“I think that’s good,” Fury said after a long moment. Carol pulled her hands away, letting the fire and light dissipate. The heat had successfully cauterized the injury, leaving behind burned skin and bruised bone, but Talos had stopped losing blood.

“You did so well,” Soren whispered, pressing her nose to her husband’s head. “You’re okay.”

Talos didn’t answer, his eyes glazed over with pain. His breathing rasped in his throat, and his chest shuddered against the floor. He was shivering again, body reacting to the cauterization.

“His . . . lung,” Carol said, information coming back in a trickle. It was like a slideshow, one moment a diagram of a human body, the next a flying instructor talking about properly strapping in to make sure pilots didn’t give themselves a pneumothorax. “It’s . . . I think there’s air in his chest, where it shouldn’t be.”

“Is that the wheezing?” Fury still had his hand on Talos’ hip, concern in his eyes.

“Probably.” Carol sat back on her heels, hands clumped with burned and congealed blood. “I don’t know how to help that.” Guilt slammed into her chest. It was rare for her to feel useless, with the fire in her fists and hardy strength in her limbs.

Talos twitched, a groan echoing in his chest, and let out a rattling cough that didn’t make it past his throat.

Maria dropped down next to Carol, fishing through the abandoned medkit. “I do,” she said, voice sharp and worried.

Soren paused in stroking Talos’ shoulder. “Where is Arala?”

“Outside, with one of the adults.” Maria pulled out a syringe, a grim look on her face. “It’s good that you closed everything off. At least he’s not pulling in more air.”

Carol sat back up, hands going to rest on Talos’ side. “What are you doing?”

“Hopefully, getting most of the air out.” She fitted a sterile needle to the tip of the syringe and removed the clear plastic barrel. Fury leaned over, kneeling on his knees, gently peeling Talos’ coat away from his back without pulling on what had melted to the Skrull’s skin. Carol, mostly operating on vague memory and logic, rubbed a patch of skin between Talos’ ribs with a disinfecting wipe pulled from the kit.

Maria splayed her hand across Talos’ back, carefully positioning the needle. “Hold him steady,” she said, and slowly slid the needle into his back.

Talos jerked and let out a quiet, warbling yell. Soren curled tighter around her husband, making soothing noises in the back of her throat. Maria’s face was tense as she slowly pushed the needle in further.

A moment later there was a hissing noise, and Talos relaxed as his breathing cleared up. Maria smiled in relief and quickly withdrew the needle, pressing her thumb over the puncture. “I think we’re good,” she said. “We’ll have to watch him, but . . .”

“Thank you,” Soren whispered, rubbing the corner of her eye with her shoulder. She sniffed and stroked her fingers down Talos’ cheek.

“Oh, honey.” Maria shifted to sit next to Soren, putting a comforting arm around her back. “We’re okay. We’re all going to be okay.” Soren let her head rest on Maria’s shoulder. Talos was still out of it, but his breathing was greatly improved.

Fury sat back, resting his forearms on his bent knees. “It’s been a long day,” he said, slightly breathless. There was purple blood smeared up to his elbows, staining his shirt.

Carol nodded and slowly got to her feet. “Let’s go home.”

Talos woke slowly, in bits and pieces.

The first thing he noticed was the quiet. Gone was the rattle of a ship, the muffled roar of engines and the hum of electricity. Instead there was the echo of creaking wood, and the sound of wind running through plant life.

The familiar scratch of bandages rubbed around his chest, at odds with soft sheets and a light blanket. He was propped up on his left side, pillows bunched under his head and chest. The pain from the blaster wound was a sharp ache, rising and falling with every breath.

Talos opened his eyes.

The room was warm, a window behind him letting in sunlight. He’d been stripped of the top half of his uniform, cool air moving against his bare neck. His boots were missing, as well. Soren was slumped at his bedside, head pillowed on her crossed arms. She was breathing deeply, clearly asleep.

He smiled and slowly shifted his arm, wincing as he pulled his injury, and rested his palm against her forehead. She murmured at the touch and woke, eyes snapping open when she saw his happy grin.

“Oh, Talos,” she whispered, moving to perch herself on the bedside. She took his hand and clasped it to her side, keeping his arm from being jostled. She rested her free hand against the side of his face, thumbing his cheekbone. “How do you feel?”

He gave a very slow blink. “Achy, but alive.” He cracked a small grin. “And you’re here, so I’m actually feeling pretty good.”

She laughed, pressed her lips together, and shook her head. “You fool,” she whispered as she brought their foreheads together. “You absolute, star-mad fool.”

Talos chuckled and bumped the ridge of his nose against her face. “To be fair, I didn’t ask to get shot.”

Soren shuddered and he put his good arm around her back, slowly rubbing her shoulder as he held her close. “Easy, easy. It’s alright, sweetheart.”

Soren rested her chin against his sternum, sniffing as tears welled in her eyes. “I-I know, I just . . . six years, Talos, and I thought you were being taken away from me again.”

Something ached in his chest, and he rested his cheek against Soren’s head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

She shook her head. “You always worry me.” Something wet fell on his chest. “My brave soldier, always in trouble.” Soren lifted her head and smiled. “I knew what I was getting into, and I still do. Just promise to stick around for a while, this time?”

Talos wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and held her close. “I promise.”

Soren helped him into a Terran sweatshirt, pulling the sleeve down his right arm to keep him from straining his shoulder. She also assisted him in getting his arm into a sling, a reminder to not move his shoulder and damage the healing skin and muscle. His head swam a bit when he stood up, but the dizziness passed quickly.

Soren led him by his good hand through the building, which he recognized now as Maria’s home. It was comforting to be in a recognizable place, even if he couldn’t remember exactly how he’d gotten there.

Walking was surprisingly tiring, and he was relieved when Soren led him to the kitchen and pointed at a chair and told him to sit. He gingerly lowered himself into the seat, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table in front of him.

Fury popped into the kitchen a moment later, grinning when he saw Talos up and about.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Fury said as he sat down at the other side of the table. There was a bandage across his left eye, but otherwise he seemed fine.

Talos quirked one corner of his mouth. “I could fire you for a comment like that.”

“You’re not my real boss.” Fury raised his eyebrows and leaned back.

He rolled his eyes and took a mug of something Soren offered to him, putting it on the table in front of him. “So, uh, what happened, exactly? My memory’s a little foggy.” He gestured at his head with his free hand.

“Well, let me see,” Fury held out one hand and started ticking things off on his fingers, “You got shot, almost died, but didn’t.”

“I remember a bit of that. Not the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Fury snorted. “Maria and Carol repaired the ship enough to get us back to Louisiana, everybody shuffled rooms and blankets for a solid two hours, then everyone crashed the whole night through. And that’s it, honestly.”

“The Kree?”

“Skedaddled.”

“And your eye?”

“Damaged in the dogfight. Busted glass.”

Talos narrowed his eyes. Fury’s tone seemed almost insistent, as though Talos might disbelieve him. The damage peeking around the eye bandage certainly spoke of something sharp, but the cuts seemed deliberate and too evenly spaced, almost like . . .

Something fuzzy jumped into his lap. He looked down and nearly screamed. Goose just looked back up at him and gave a lazy blink, kneading her claws into his thigh. He motioned for Soren with his good hand, eyes wide as his voice croaked in his throat.

“Soren.” He felt his fingers grab the edge of her sleeve. “Soren.”

“Oh, hush,” Soren said, lightly swatting his good shoulder. “Goose is a good flerken. She won’t eat you.”

The creature on his lap yawned, showing off needle-point teeth. Talos winced and leaned his head back, getting as far from Goose as possible without leaving his seat. Soren chuckled and picked the flerken up, cuddling Goose close to her chest. “Come here, darling. It’s not your fault my husband is a -” her face twisted as she restrained a laugh, “scaredy cat.”

Fury groaned and cradled his forehead in his hands. Talos just looked between the two of them, Soren’s mouth working as she physically held back a laugh and Fury rubbing his forehead in some sort of pain. He rolled his eyes and pointed at his wife. “I don’t know what a cat is, but I know your puns.”

She finally broke and laughed, curling up over Goose as she leaned in on herself and sat down. “Oh, that was a good one. Don’t worry,” she said, patting his good shoulder with a knowing nod. “I’ll explain it later.”

Maria poked her head into the kitchen, one eyebrow raised. “Alright now, what’d I miss?”

Fury didn’t move his head from his hands. “Pain.”

Soren snorted a laugh and ran a hand down Goose’s back.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Maria said, stepping completely into the kitchen and leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. “We were worried for a good while.”

Talos nodded. “Thank you.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fine. Sore, stiff, a bit like a oohru sat on me. But I can breathe, and I understand I have you to thank for that.”

She shrugged. “Just a little trick I remembered from first aid training.”

“Still. Thank you.” He looked over at Fury. “And you, too, Fury. Soren told me what you all and Carol did, to help me.”

“Hey, don’t get sappy.” Fury finally leaned up from his pained crouch and gestured across the table. “I still have to see you turn into a venus flytrap. I’m not letting you wiggle your way outta that.”

He rolled his eyes, a mocking rumble in his throat. Let the agent keep up his toughman facade.

There was an excited squeal from down the hallway, and a moment later Monica was blasting through the kitchen, oblivious to her mother’s call of, “Slow down!” Arala was swift on Monica’s heels, a wide smile on her young face. She faltered when she saw him, face going shocked then worried.

Talos blinked and held out his hand. “Hello again, little one.”

Arala slowly stepped closer to him. “Are you . . . okay now?” Her voice was quiet.

A smile started to pull at his mouth. “Not yet, but I’m getting there.”

She stopped just short of his reach. “I . . . that’s good.” Then she turned and ran out of the kitchen.

Talos frowned in confusion and looked at Soren, hand slowly lowering. “Did I do something wrong?”

She looked as confused as he felt. “No.” Her hand stilled on Goose’s head. “She was worried about you, so I don’t know why . . .” Soren sighed and made to get up, Goose jumping from her lap and padding away. “I’ll go talk with her.”

“No, no.” Talos held up his good hand. “It’s alright. I’ll go.” He stood up, ignoring the twinge in his back, and rested his hand on Soren’s shoulder. “We should talk, anyway.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Soren said, leaning back and frowning. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“Oh, you know me better than that.” Talos moved forward and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’ll come back in once we’re done.”

“Of course I know you. Which is why I’ll drag you back inside by your feet if you do something and hurt yourself.”

Talos left the kitchen with a smile and shake of his head, Fury’s muffled snicker following him through the hallway.

He found her crouched at the edge of a small creek, small fingers running through the clear water. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, saw him, and got up to leave.

“Wait,” Talos said, voice gentle. “Is it alright if we talk for a bit?”

She paused on her feet, giving their surroundings a searching glance. After a moment she gave a nod and sat down, pulling at the grass between her feet.

Arala. They’d gone over names, possibilities, before the battle over the long-dead rubble of Skrullos pulled them apart. He hadn’t known for nearly seven years if Mar-Vell’s evacuation had worked, if Soren had survived, let alone their unborn child.

And now she’s here, he’s here, and things should be right. Instead, Arala seemed nervous, almost scared, and she didn’t seem interested in talking.

“Is it alright if I sit?” He gestured to a dry spot next to her. She gave a hesitant nod, leaning away from him when he sat next to her, shifting so that he couldn’t see her face.

“Are you alright?”

Arala nodded, but didn’t answer. It stung, to have the child who had been so eager to touch foreheads on Mar-Vell’s ship shy away from his presence.

He reached out, moving slowly, until his fingertips were resting on Arala’s small shoulder. “You can tell me, little one.”

Arala shifted, hugging her shoulders. She looked away. “Last time, you got hurt because you were with Mama and me.” Her voice was shaky and quiet.

For a moment Talos was back on Mar-Vell’s ship, telling Soren to cover their child’s eyes, and he was leaning down to return his daughter’s smile and reassure her, and a blaster shot slammed into his shoulder.

“What happened isn’t your fault. It was a Kree soldier who hurt me, not you. Never you.”

Arala sniffed and rubbed her forearm across her nose, face pinching. “If you hadn’t bothered with me, you might have noticed. I . . . distracted you. I’m sorry.”

Talos sighed and leaned back, bracing himself against the earth with his good arm. “It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt,” he said, voice gentle. “And I doubt it’ll be the last. You did nothing wrong, Arala.”

She hunched in on herself.

“You’re trying to protect me, aren’t you. By staying away from me.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

Talos closed his eyes, something painful curling in his chest. “Brave Arala.” He opened them and looked up at the sky. “Learning that we can’t control everything is one of the hardest lessons this life has to teach us. If I’d had any choice, I never would have left your mother’s side, and we would never have been strangers.”

Arala sniffed again, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow.

“You can’t control the actions of others. It wasn’t you who lifted the blaster and pulled the trigger.” Talos almost winced at the callous undertone in his voice and the bluntness of his words. “You did nothing, nothing, wrong.” He gave her a gentle look. “And I’m glad to have the chance to know you, if you want.”

His daughter (his daughter) looked at him. She blinked, tears running down her cheeks. “I . . . it’s okay?”

He gave a firm nod. “More than okay.”

At that Arala clambered to her feet and threw her arms around his neck, all but falling into his lap. “Woah, easy,” he said, his good arm coming up to support her back. “Easy. It’s alright.”

Arala cried into his shoulder, small hands fisted in the sweatshirt. “I was so scared.”

Talos tightened his grip, holding her close. “I know, little one.” He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “I know. You’re safe, we’re all safe. It’s okay.” A comforting rumble echoed in his throat.

She curled up, and Talos cradled her to his chest. His injury pulled at the weight, but he didn’t notice the flare of pain. He simply held his daughter close, tears clouding his vision.

He found Carol in Maria’s open-sided shed, fiddling with some sort of Terran engine.

“Well now,” he said, leaning his hip against the edge of a nearby table. “For a glowing fireball, you’re looking awfully human.”

She looked up at his voice, a smile pulling at her face as she saw him. “For a Skrull with half his shoulder blown out, you’re looking awfully happy.”

He shrugged with his good shoulder. “Being alive does that. Thank you, by the way.”

Carol pulled her hands free from the engine, her fingers smeared with grease and oil. “You don’t-” She suddenly looked uncertain. “You don’t have to thank me, Talos. For anything.”

“Ah. Well, too bad. I’m thanking you anyway.” He moved closer and gave the Terran engine a poke. “Still dealing with the emotional blowback of Kree propaganda and brainwashing?”

She winced and leaned her head back, staring at the metal roof. “. . . a little.”

“You know,” Talos said, voice light as he continued to prod at the engine, “I’ve killed Kree, and even enjoyed it on occasion. It doesn’t make me proud to say it, but maybe it needs said.” He switched his attention from the engine to Carol, lightly bumping the side of her head with his knuckles. “The filth of war goes both ways. If you ever want to talk . . .” He didn’t finish. He gave Carol’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and left.

Behind him, Carol sighed and turned back to the engine, a determined expression falling over her face.

Talos shifted on the bed, pulling the pillow towards his chin. He was under strict instructions from Soren (and Carol, and Fury, and Maria, and Monica, and Arala) to rest for several days as his wound healed. While Skrulls tended to heal quickly, the injury had been severe enough for essentially everyone to forbid him from anything more active than a leisurely stroll.

While part of him chafed under the restriction, the rest of him was grateful for the rest. The injury drained his strength quickly, and it wasn’t uncommon to find him sleeping in odd places, slumped over the kitchen table or stretched out on the porch. The guest room at the Rambeau residence had become a prime napping spot for the healing Skrull, with it’s soft bed and relative quiet.

Talos bunched his arm under his head, his injury elevated and right arm carefully laid out on the bed in front of him. He sighed in contentment, and his eyes started to drift closed.

The door creaked open.

Talos twitched. “Arala, is that you?”

He turned to look over his shoulder, and came face-to-face with death.

Goose gave a slow blink, apparently uncaring about the Skrull’s impending heart attack. The flerken twitched her whiskers and sniffed at his forehead. Then, apparently pleased with whatever she’d found, Goose jumped over his midsection and made herself comfortable right next to his belly.

Talos opened his mouth, but all that came out was an airless garble. He took a deep breath and whispered, “I fear and respect you, please don’t eat me.”

Goose flicked her ears and rubbed her cheek on his borrowed shirt.

Some of the tension left his shoulders. The flerken didn’t seem aggressive (currently), and she had eaten several Kree soldiers, according to Fury. Unless this was her version of taste-testing, he probably didn’t have to worry about getting dragged into her literally bottomless stomach.

Goose shifted, wiggling under his arm and closer to his head. The feel of small, fuzzy limbs against his stomach nearly made him laugh, and the flerken’s constant purring seemed to ease the ever-present ache in his shoulder.

Maybe he could accept this, napping in borrowed clothing in a comfortable bed with a surprisingly friendly flerken. It didn’t take long for him to fall into a deep doze, not even reacting when Carol snuck into the room and snapped a picture.

Talos contacted the Admiral after Norex’s burial.

It’d been a small, quiet ceremony. Talos took it upon himself to get Norex cleaned up, gently washing the blood from the young Skrull’s face and layering his coat so the blaster shots weren’t as clear. The other Skrulls had helped carry the body to a place picked out by Maria, with soft earth and a clear view of the stars. He ran his thumb down Norex’s nose before he was lowered into the grave, breathing deep and saying, “Gentle journey through the Beyond, my friend.”

Most left after the final shovel-full. Talos stood before the lumped earth, the faint wind catching at the lip of his coat and the fuzzy tendrils hanging from the trees. Maria had assured him that placing Norex here wasn’t a problem, that she was “honored” to have his soldier resting at her home. Talos sighed, his shoulders slumping. There was a twinge from his injury, but he was otherwise alright.

“Are you alright?” Soren came up next to him and put her arm around the small of his back, holding him close.

He hummed and leaned his cheek on her head. “Yeah, I’m fine.” There was another gust of wind. “We can’t always go back for the fallen. It’s nice that he got this.”

She tightened her arm. “I know it hurts worse when they’re young.” She dropped her grip and knelt, running her fingertips through the freshly turned earth. “Maria said she might plant flowers, here.”

“She’s almost too kind.”

“She’s a good person,” Soren said, rising to her feet and patting her hands clean. “And she understands loss.” She took his hand, twining their fingers together. He put his good arm around her shoulders and pressed the bridge of his nose to her head.

Now he was here, sitting in the Rambeau’s kitchen, watching as the scrapped together communicator on the table in front of him blinked. Carol was almost scarily efficient at cannibalizing and repurposing tech, the thing on the table a mix of Kree, Skrull, and Terran electronics. It was . . . interesting to look at.

Finally the comm threw up a screen, Admiral Yora frowning at him from galaxies away. She was an older Skrull, skin pulled tight against her skull and decorated with old scars.

“General Talos,” she said, leaning back in her chair and raising her chin.

“Admiral Yora.” He inclined his head.

“You’re injured.” She shot a pointed look at the sling, voice neutral.

Talos shrugged with his good shoulder. “You should see the other guy.”

Yora raised an eyebrow, faint humor in the twist of her smile. Then her expression went steely. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I mean,” he scratched the back of his head, “yes and no. Things got complicated.”

“I figured. So?”

“Well,” he said, slowly running his thumb down the ridges in his chin, “Mar-Vell’s dead, killed on C-53 six years ago by Starforce. Her engine’s destroyed, but we have the energy source.” He winced. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“A flerken swallowed it.”

The admiral gave a very, very slow blink. “So we can’t use it?”

“I mean, if you feel like tethering yourself up and bobbing around in the thing’s stomach, feel free.”

“General, please.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “For now, it’s not a viable source of energy. At least the Kree didn’t get their hands on it. But there’s something a bit more interesting than that. There was a pilot with Mar-Vell when everything went down. She blew the engine, but wasn’t killed in the blast. The energy fused with her, scrambled her DNA.” He leaned forward, face carefully neutral. “She turned away three Accuser ships, after single-handedly destroying a fourth. Flying in space, Admiral, blasting power from her fists. And she wants to help us find a new home.”

Yora was quiet for a moment, eyes closed and fingers tapping on the table in front of her. “So she’s strong?”

Talos nodded.

She sighed. “Well, I’ll have to meet her first before I say anything concrete. I get the feeling there’s more to her story than you’re telling me.”

“That’s Carol’s story to tell, if she wants to.”

“Agreed. We can do a full debrief then.” Yora sighed and leaned back, her face going soft. “And Soren, Talos? Have you found anything on her?”

He couldn’t fight the broad smile that spread across his face. “I found her. Her and Arala, and so many others.”

“Arala?”

“My daughter.” His chest warmed. “Mar-Vell got them out, Yora.”

“Congratulations, Talos. You’ll have to introduce me.”

“Thank you.”

Yora looked off-screen and blinked. “We’re going to cut communications here, General. Contact me when you’re on the move again.”

“It shouldn’t be too long. Just until I’m patched up enough.”

“Good. And general?” A genuine smile spread across the Admiral’s face. “I’m happy for you.”

The comm beeped off before he had a chance to reply.

Talos moved slowly, feeling a new grind and pop in his right shoulder. He winced at the pull in his muscles, but managed to keep his arms even as he held them perpendicular to his body. The still-healing skin on his back flared, unused to the stretch. The sling was discarded on the bed.

He snorted a laugh as he held his arms straight out in front of him. “I might have to practice left-handed shooting, at this pace.”

Carol rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly been eight days, Talos. It takes time to heal from something like that.”

“Mm.” He slowly pulled his right arm across his chest, feeling the stretch through his back.”Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

She smirked and walked behind him, narrowing her eyes as she saw the stuttering movement of muscle around the injury. “You might want to get this looked at by a proper medic.”

“You think?” He lowered both his arms with a sigh, the injury warm with the light exercise. “Hopefully the scar tissue doesn’t cause problems.”

“Do Skrulls scar? I mean, you guys can change your physical appearance and all.”

“It’s a bit more finicky than that.” Talos sat on the edge of the bed and pushed his hand into a shift, the nails widening and losing their point, the skin ridges smoothing out, until a dark-colored Terran hand was stuck on the end of his arm.

“Our natural form always feels best to us, and shifting back to it is quick and easy.” With a flick of his wrist he released the shift, and his own hand snapped back into being. “Permanently altering our natural form through a shift is draining at best, and deadly at worst. It’s best to try something like that with heavy medical support.”

“Oh.” Carol’s hand went up to her own shoulder. “So that’s . . .”

“Permanent, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged with both shoulders. “It saved my life. And I doubt it’ll be the last scar I get before everything is said and over with.”

Carol sighed and sat down on the sill, leaning back against the frame and dangling one of her legs outside the propped-open windows. “If you say so.”

Talos frowned and slowly pulled on one of his borrowed shirts. “What you said, Carol, two days ago? About helping us find a new home?”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to.” He moved and sat down across from her, making sure she was looking at him. “You just barely refound your life here, Carol, and your family.” He looked out over the backyard, watching Arala and Maria running after each other, sometimes pausing to look at flowers or interesting bugs. “I refuse to take you away from that, after you helped me find mine.”

Carol sighed again. “Talos, it’s not . . . I can’t . . .” The corner of her mouth turned up in frustration as she fumbled with her words. “I - I’ve done things, and I need to make up for them.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

“What? Yes, of course!”

“It has nothing to do with the scraps of memory floating in your brain? Nothing to do with the memories you don’t have?”

Carol swallowed and bent, looking tired. “Didn’t get past you, huh.”

His voice was light. “I am a professional liar. You? Less so.”

She let out a hollow laugh.

“Downright insult to the art, honestly.”

Carol snorted, her body relaxing.

Talos gave her a quick smile. “Look. It’s rare, what you have here, family and a home. You’ve already saved many of my people, Carol. I won’t ask more than what you’ve already done.”

“But there are thousands more, scattered,” she said, echoing his words from Mar-Vell’s cruiser. “I want . . . to help that. To help them.” She looked into his eyes. “If you’ll have me.”

He held up his hands. “I’m not going to turn away help. I just want you to think about what you might be leaving behind.”

She nodded and went quiet, staring out into the yard. Eventually she said, “I’ve been working on a comm system. Encoded. I used some Terran tech, makes it hard to hack. If it works, I’ll be able to stay in direct contact with Maria, and Fury, no matter the distance.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

Carol nodded. “I’m not giving them up, Talos. I’ll be able to stay in contact with them easily enough.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Ultimately, it’s your choice. And if I know Soren, she’ll probably, ah, encourage you to visit them during breaks and slow periods.”

She gave a little laugh. “Sounds good.”

“So you’re still going to help us?”

“Yes.” Now her voice was strong and confident, lacking the self-deception from earlier.

“Good. I already told my superior that you’d be stopping by, and she gets testy when plans change.”

Talos sighed and leaned against the back of the chair. The night air was warm, pressing up against his skin in a gentle breeze. The Rambeau’s backyard was well lit, lights strung up in the trees and vibrant porchlight showing off happy smiles and dancing people.

Tomorrow Maria would start shuttling the Skrulls back to Mar-Vell’s cruiser, everyone with clothing and tools donated by S.H.I.E.L.D. (and hadn’t THAT been an interesting conversation - Talos still refused to apologize to Keller for locking him in a closet). They’d leave tomorrow evening, giving Carol the time she needed to say goodbye on her own terms. From there, the plan was to meet up with the larger Skrull armada and Admiral Yora.

The small, impromptu dance was the responsibility of Arala, Monica, several of the younger Skrulls, and one Nicholas Joseph Fury. Apparently he’d been key in stringing the string lights through the lower tree branches.

So here they were, Talos resting on the porch swing, Maria and Carol huddled around the radio with drinks in hand, the Skrulls and Monica all weaving between each other as they remembered old dances and learned new ones. Talos smirked when Fury got dragged into the dance circle by several of the children, all of them laughing. The agent was obviously failing at keeping the smile off his face.

Soren sat down next to him, an arm going around his shoulders. “And how is my soldier this evening?” There was a definite hint of humor in her voice.

He smiled and reached up to pat her hand. “Your soldier is doing just fine.”

“Your shoulder?”

He raised both his hands, his left arm finally free of the sling. It felt nice, to have the use of both hands back.

She grinned and stood up, taking hold of his good hand and giving it a gentle tug. “Good. Come dance with me.”

The music on the radio faded away, signaling the end of one song and the beginning of another. 

Talos held up his free hand. “Sweetheart, I don’t think I remember.”

She gave his arm a firm tug, pulling him to his feet with a broad smile. “That’s alright.” She stepped close and took his elbow in her hand. “I’ll lead.”

He blinked and relaxed, letting Soren wrap her arm around his. “Well, who am I to refuse a pretty lady,” he said as they both walked down the porch steps and to a less populated area of the yard. Soren just smiled and turned to face him.

For a moment he was blown away by the fact that both of them were here, in the same place at the same time. The years since the battle above Skrullos felt heavy, a weight on his chest, a reminder of time they would never get back.

But then Soren took his hands in hers, her grip gentle, and the weight fell away. She slowly spun them around, taking a moment to latch onto the rhythm of the song echoing from the radio. Talos stumbled a bit, unused to the steps his muscles half-remembered.

Soren gave a small laugh and stepped closer, smooth on her feet. He mirrored her, stepping in close enough to give her forehead a light touch with his own.

For a moment he felt everything slip away, grief for his soldiers, the lingering pain in his body, fear for the future, and he felt young again. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think it was one of those quiet nights when Soren dragged him away from reports and battle plans to dance in the ship observatory, stars and glittering space dust floating by the window.

Soren pulled him through another spin, and he felt a wide, unfamiliar smile spread across his face. The dance was simple, made up of spins and twirls and flowing steps. At one point Talos felt confident enough to pick Soren up and perch her on his hip, spinning backwards as her arms tightened around his neck and she laughed in his ear.

They were both laughing as the song came to an end, pulling each other into a loose hug as the final notes faded away.

“Alright, so I remember more than I thought,” Talos said, trying to catch his breath.

Soren smiled and ran her hand down his shoulder. “Just had to jog your memory.”

There was a tug at the corner of his shirt. He pulled away from Soren and looked down, meeting Arala’s grinning face. She jumped up and down, holding her hands up towards him. He dropped his left arm and she grabbed his wrist. “Hello, little Arala.”

“That was such a pretty dance!” His daughter’s face was glowing, happy.

Soren laughed and rested her palm against Arala’s head. “Oh, darling. You don’t have to lie to save your father’s pride.”

“Hey now,” Talos looked at her, mock hurt on his face. “I think I did pretty well!”

“He was fine, Mama,” Arala said, bumping her head into Soren’s hip. “A little slow, though, maybe.” She shot him a mischievous grin.

Talos made an insulted noise and bent down, swiftly picking Arala up with his left arm and perching her on his hip as he held her close. “Slow? Me?”

“Uh-huh.” She giggled and pressed her face into his neck.

Soren laughed and put her arms around her husband and daughter, leaning her forehead against Arala’s. Talos smiled and let a happy purr rumble in his throat as he twined his free arm around Soren’s waist.

For now, this was all the home he needed.

Author’s Note: I was pleasantly surprised (i.e. SUPER HAPPY) when green space dad survived the movie (especially given Marvel’s track record with blue space dads). Any faulty medical stuff can be attributed to the fact that Talos is an alien with frunky biology.

But yeah, I absolutely fell in love with the Skrulls. They’re super neat and I love the direction they were taken in the film, so expect more Skrull-centered content from me (I have so many ideas and headcanons send help).