Layla makes a fuss about Longshot and Shatterstar needing to stay behind. She has a long prepared speech on why they aren’t a good match for this mission. It is obvious she’s attempting to manipulate them; she has ceased any pretense of subtlety since becoming an adult. Rictor puts up a token protest because he hates being manipulated, but he’s tired today. Longshot has noticed sometimes he seems to have no energy for anything but lying on the couch all day while ‘Star watches TV beside him. Rictor is not that tired today but tired enough that Layla gets her way with minimal pushback.
Rictor lingers as the rest of the team make their way outside and leans in close to ‘Star. “I don’t know what she’s playing at, so take care of yourself, okay?”
“Of course,” ‘Star agrees. He bridges the distance to rest his forehead against Rictor’s, his hand curling around the back of Rictor’s neck. “Come back to me.”
“I promise,” Rictor replies and they stay like that for a moment before Rictor takes a deep breath and leaves. Longshot probably should not have watched them; that seemed like it was meant to be a private moment. He’s been watching ‘Star a lot more since Latveria, hoping that he will do or say something that will knock some memory loose and the connection they share will be revealed to him. It has not worked thus far.
The only other people 'Star uses as anchors are Rictor and Layla, and as far as Longshot can tell, those are sexual relationships. He doesn’t feel that way about 'Star, and if there is one thing he knows about memory loss, it is that it doesn’t change the way a body feels. If there were an attraction, if there had ever been an attraction, Longshot would feel it still, even if he didn’t remember it. He does not; therefore their relationship cannot be sexual. Perhaps they were partners in battle, either in the ring or against Mojo. He does not know if that is enough for ‘Star’s ‘connections’. Teresa was also ‘Star’s partner in many battles, but she has never been his anchor.
If Longshot and he were not lovers and they were not partners, he does not know what else they could be. He knows he ought to ask. He is fairly sure that leaving them to figure it is at least a part of Layla’s plans for the day. He does not think it is necessary. He can simply accept that a connection exists and allow it to be without question. It is what he has to do for so much else. But it needles at him, the not knowing.
Longshot is supposed to be watching the front, but there’s a bell, and his luck should hold long enough to have this conversation.
He finds ‘Star in the kitchen frowning intensely at a cookbook, with an array of pots and pans and various foodstuffs lined up on the table.
“What are you doing?” Longshot asks, curious as well as pushing off the conversation he came here intending to have.
“Julio has mentioned liking pancakes.” Star does not look away from the russet potato in his hand. “I will learn to make them, it’s just—this recipe does not make sense—how does one make flour from a potato?”
Longshot comes over to examine the cookbook. The recipe 'Star is looking at appears to be one of those everything from scratch, gluten-free, and vegan adaptations. Alison had one as well. She gave up on it after a week. A quick check of the cover shows that it is indeed the same cookbook. He can’t imagine any of team using it. They don’t cook much as a rule, and all of the recipes in this book seem far too involved for any of them to bother with.
“These are probably not the sort of pancakes he was thinking of. Come on, I’ll teach you.”
“You know how to make potatoes into flour?” ‘Star gives him a dubious look, which is fair considering the question. Longshot does not know how to make flour from potatoes.
“No, but Alison taught me how to make pancakes,” he explains. “She said I was very good at it before, so she taught me again.”
'Star nods, apparently satisfied with that answer, and watches as Longshot puts all the pots and pans and the majority of the food back in the cupboards.
“The pancakes she taught me use regular flour. It will be much less work,” Longshot says, gathering the ingredients he actually needs, like milk and butter and eggs.
'Star watches quietly as Longshot walks him through the steps. Longshot makes the first two and they are a perfect golden brown. Then he hands the spatula to 'Star.
“You made these for Dazzler?”
“Yes, she liked them a lot. She said it was traditional to eat them with a condiment called maple syrup, but she liked them with strawberry jam instead.”
“How do you like them?” ‘Star asks.
“I liked the maple syrup.” Longshot smiles.
Star nods and pours the batter into the pan.
The first couple he flips too soon, and they are a pale cream color.
“You have to be patient,” Longshot corrects him. “Wait until the bubbles are in the center.”
“But if I wait they will burn.”
“Only if you wait too long. I’ll tell you when.”
'Star hesitates but nods and pours a new pancake onto the pan. They wait in silence watching the batter slowly begin to bubble.
“It’s going to burn,” 'Star insists as they stare at the pancake.
“Not yet.” Longshot reassures him, and when the center is finally bubbling, he says, “Okay, now.”
The pancake is a touch darker than would be ideal, but it’s still a nice caramelly brown, and 'Star nods, satisfied, and pours another one out.
After about half an hour, each of them has a plate of pancakes sitting on the table. Longshot’s are a nice even golden brown on both sides, while 'Star’s are a bit more uneven, but they got better as he went and his final few were mostly right.
‘Star cuts his stack in half and pushes them to the far sides of his plate. On one stack he pours maple syrup and on the other he spreads strawberry jam.
“May I ask a question?” Longshot says between bites.
'Star eyes him warily but does not say no, so Longshot pushes on.
“What is our connection?”
“Is it supposed to taste like this?” 'Star asks, wrinkling nose after biting into one of the maple syrup stack.
Longshot reaches over and takes one of the pancakes off of 'Star’s pile to try. It tastes like a slightly burnt mapley pancake. “More or less,” he affirms. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”
“It’s okay, you didn’t actually know me.” 'Star pokes the pancake warily before taking another small bite.
“But we are connected?”
'Star nods, carefully chewing his pancake. Longshot waits.
“You’re my father.”
“Hello, anyone here?” A voice calls from the front room, luckily interrupting what was surely about to become an awkward conversation.
“Yes, how can we help you?” Longshot returns to the front room with a smile. Standing just inside the door is a middle-aged woman with dark hair gathered into a loose knot at the back of her neck.
“Oh, um, yes, my daughter disappeared,” the woman explains, glancing around the pretty sparse but somehow also messy front room of their detective agency. She edges away from ‘Star’s swords which are leaning next to the door.
“Have you spoken with the police yet?” ‘Star asks, having followed Longshot to the front.
“No, I don’t think you understand—she didn’t go missing.” The woman emphasises the word. “She disappeared. We were talking one minute and then all of a sudden she was gone.”
“Oh, well, that’s strange,” Longshot notes.
“Yes,” the woman says with exaggerated slowness, “that’s why I came to you.”
“Oh right, that makes sense.” Longshot grins and the woman smiles back, visibly relaxing. “Do you have anything that she touched recently?”
“No, I—oh wait. I mean, it’s not much, she asked me to hold this box of Tic-Tacs while we were out.” She starts to reach into her bag.
Longshot stops her. “Sorry, do you mind?” He holds his hand out for the bag. “It’s better if fewer people have touched it.” The woman gives him a confused look before handing her bag over.
“Thank you.”
“Can you fill out this form, Ms.—I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Shatterstar holds out their client billing information. It’s actually just a notepad where they write their clients’ names, and, if they remember to ask, contact information. It’s not very official and the woman is once again looking unsure of her decision to come to them.
“It’s Penny Matsun,” she says, writing down her name and phone number. “My daughter is—”
“Georgia?” Longshot asks, holding the tic-tacs.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“It’s his special talent,” ‘Star informs her. He’s being oddly formal with Penny, but given the conversation that was interrupted, Longshot supposes that is fair.
“She was a mutant?” Longshot asks.
“No—well, not anymore. Is that important?”
“Maybe. What was her power?” ‘Star follows up while Longshot watches the psychic imprint reach its end.
“She could talk to like bees and ants and other insects. But why would that matter? She couldn’t do it anymore, she was just a normal girl now.”
“She was normal before,” 'Star interjects.
“I didn’t mean it like that, I meant she’s baseline. She won’t be of any use to someone if they needed her power.”
Longshot nods, pressing the box of Tic-Tacs between his palms and hoping to get something else out of it—but no luck.
“Was there anyone new in her life?” he asks. It’s a question he has seen Jamie ask often enough.
“No—I don’t know.” Penny looks between the two of them. “I don’t know.”
Longshot puts the box down and takes the woman’s hand. “Please, Penny, try and remember. Anything you can think of might help.”
“There was a boy? She’s part of a support group for ex-mutants, and there was a new boy, he was about her age.” She shrugs. “Most of the group are older. Georgia got her powers pretty young, so she was excited to have someone her age, but that was like a month ago, and he wasn’t even there the last time she went.”
“Do you know his name?” Longshot asks.
“Reese, maybe.”
“We will go to this group,” 'Star declares, grabbing his swords. The woman takes a startled step back.
“Can you tell us where the group meets?” Longshot asks.
“They meet today, actually, at five in the Y on 17th Street.” She glances at ‘Star’s swords again. “You’re not going to like kill anyone, are you?”
“Only if they are evil,” Longshot assures her. “Do not worry. We will do everything we can to get your daughter back.”
--
They have several hours to kill before the meeting, so ‘Star puts his swords back down and they go back to the kitchen. The pancakes are cold and soggy, so they throw them away and ‘Star makes a new batch, on his own this time. Longshot sits at the table watching him and trying to fit the idea that this man is his son into his life.
“Your mother is Alison, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Longshot shakes his head. “I think I should have known you were my son.”
“I told you, you hadn’t met me.”
“I don’t mean remembered. I mean—you look just like her, I should have guessed.”
'Star pauses in the middle of flipping his pancake. It smushes against the side of pan. “I do?”
“Yeah, you have her nose and her chin, and she dyes it now but if you can find a picture from the start of her career you’ll see, you guys have the exact same color hair.”
Star hand reaches up to touch the ends of his short hair before he snatches it back. “I was unaware of that.”
The second batch of ‘Star pancakes are better than the first: more evenly colored, fewer of them edging toward burnt or undercooked. Longshot pours the maple syrup over his again. After a second’s hesitation, ‘Star takes the jam and spreads it over his whole stack.
The rest of the team isn’t back by 4:30, so 'Star and Longshot lock up the office and head towards the Y on 17th Street. The group isn’t hard to find; they just follow the man with faded tiger stripe markings and not quite natural-looking orange hair down the hall and up two flights of stairs to a small classroom. There are a few other people setting up chairs. Most of them look like your average baseline human but one or two have the remnants of a physical mutation marking their appearance.
A tall man with scars that look like gills along his neck comes up to them with a friendly smile. “Hello, are you here for the support group?”
“Well, not really, we’re not mutants.” Longshot says before a thought occurs to him and he turns toward ‘Star. “Wait, are you a mutant?” He had assumed that 'Star, like him, was genetically engineered with all his powers, but if he was born rather than built, then his powers were perhaps mutations instead.
“Yes,” ‘Star says. “The teleportation power is from the X-gene.”
“But the strength and speed and all that is from Mojo?”
“That is my understanding.”
Longshot turns back to Gill-neck. “My partner is, but he still has his powers.”
“I was not in this dimension during M-day.” 'Star explains.
“...Okay.” Gill-neck takes a step back. “Well, if you’re not here for the meeting, then I am afraid I’ll need you to leave.”
“We will, in just a moment.” Longshot says at the same time that 'Star says, “May I stay?”
Longshot and Gill-neck look over at 'Star, who looks briefly unsure before he schools his features into an impassive facade.
“My lover lost his powers. He does not like to talk about it, and I am not good at understanding, but I would like to know better what he is feeling,” ‘Star haltingly explains.
“Well, if it’s okay with everyone else,” Gill-neck says, looking around at the crowd they’ve gathered. “I don’t have a problem with it. M-day affected all of us, even the people who didn’t lose what we did.”
“But before that, we have some questions.” Longshot directs them back to the mission.
“We’re looking for a girl—Georgia Matsun? I believe she was a part of this group.”
“What happened to Georgia?” Tiger-stripes asks.
“She disappeared. We were wondering if anyone had noticed anything unusual. Did she contact anyone in the past few days?” Longshot asks.
Most of the crowd shakes heads.
“We are also curious about a boy named Reese,” Shatterstar adds. “We understand he did not attend last week. Has anyone seen him since?”
Again they mostly get negative responses but after a moment, a woman who’s been hanging back raises her hand.
“There was that woman, a few weeks ago, remember?” She looks around at the group. “She only came to one meeting and seemed really unusually interested in what people’s powers had been. Particularly Georgia and Reese.”
“Oh right.” Gill-neck’s eyebrows pull together. “What was her name? Mary-beth, maybe?”
“Do you keep a list of participants?”
“I mean, we have a sign-in sheet. It’s not enforced, though.”
“May I look at the the list for the week this woman came in?” Longshot asks.
“Yeah, um—hold on.” Gills goes to his bag to pull out a bunch of loose sheets. “Here, Meredith, that was it.”
“May I?” Longshot holds out his hand and the guy hands the sheet over. He runs his finger over the imprint of her name. It’s old and the paper itself was handled by several other people, which makes it a sort of confusing mishmash of psychic imprints, but Meredith’s feelings were strong enough to come through.
“I know where we need to go.” Longshot hands the sheet back. “Thank you for your help.”
“No problem?” Gill-neck says as Longshot grabs ‘Star and ushers him out of the room.
“I’ll be back.” ‘Star yells back to them as they leave the room.
He leads ‘Star up to the roof. “We will need to teleport.”
'Star nods in understanding, and once they are in the open air, he brings his swords up.
“You are ready?”
“Yes.” Longshot pictures the place he saw from the psychic imprint. 'Star glows with his power, and through the X, a house shimmers into being.
It is an old house, the wood of the walls grey and splintering as it warps out of position. The porch sags and the roofing bows with it. The front lawn is dirt and small patches of dried grass, which grow thicker and meld into a dense field of weeds that runs down to the edge of the woods bordering of the property.
“We will gather the children, and wait for your power to recharge somewhere safe.” Longshot leads them straight to the cellar door.
“Children?”
“Yes, she has been collecting many of them.”
“Then we need to stop her, or she will simply take more,” ‘Star argues.
“We will come back with the team, but our priority should be to get the children she does have to safety.” Longshot tugs on the padlock holding the cellar doors shut. It doesn’t budge.
“She cannot be that dangerous.”
Longshot shrugs and starts twisting the lock around. “I’m not sure, she has powerful magic and my powers might backfire. It is too much of a risk.”
“I didn’t know you were weak to magic,” ‘Star says, idly kicking at the small rocks littering the ground.
“I am not, but I worry they may consider anything I do to try and help my own child as a selfish act. Which would put us both in danger.”
‘Star kicks one of the rocks a little too hard. It ricochets off the walls of the house and hits one of the cellar door hinges, knocking it clean off.
“There we are.” Longshot lets go of the lock and moves to knock the other hinge off. He folds the door over to reveal a room with about fifteen children ranging in age from about 7 to 13. Most of them show signs of old mutations: discolored skin, stubby horns and unusual scars.
Longshot hops down into the room and the children shrink back. “It is okay, we are here to rescue you.”
The kids don’t move for a few moments before one of the older boys straightens his shoulders and comes forward. “Who are you?”
“We are X-Factor. We were hired to find you. Is Georgia here?”
The boy shakes his head. “The woman, she took Georgia and a four other kids earlier.”
“Za’s vid,” Longshot sighs. “Okay, what’s your name, kid?”
“Reese.”
“Oh, Reese, we’ve heard of you, excellent. Me and my friend are going to go up and get those other kids. While we’re gone, you’re in charge.” He hands Reese one of his throwing knives. “You are all going to head towards the woods behind the house, and you’re going to wait for us just past the treeline. If in one hour you don’t see us come out of the house, you will head to the road and start walking until you get to a town. Got it?”
Reese nods eyes wide and adjusts his grip on the knife. Longshot reaches over and corrects his grip. He gives Reese a reassuring pat on the head and climbs out of the cellar.
“What are we up against?” ‘Star asks as they head towards the front door. Behind them the kids are slowly filtering out.
Longshot presses his hand against the side of the house and lets the imprint speak to him.
“She’s a witch, or a sorceress—I’m not totally sure on the difference, honestly. And the children—there’s residual dark magic energy on them from what happened to their powers. It’s stronger on kids for some reason. She wants to syphon off that energy to become more powerful.”
“Understood.”
“We can probably try to sneak in, and get the kids without her knowing.”
‘Star smiles for the first time since breakfast. “Where’s the fun in that?” he says, kicking open the door before Longshot can argue the point.
It’s a bit anticlimactic. The front room is empty and no demons come screeching down the stairs to attack them. There’s just a plume of dust and some splinters from the broken door.
“We will search the ground floor first,” Longshot says.
“We should split up.”
“No, I think it is better to stay together. There is not much ground to cover. It should be fine.”
‘Star gives him a look but doesn’t argue, and they head further into the house.
Longshot was correct about the house being pretty small and it only takes a minute before they find the missing kids in the living room. They are arranged in a circle, the children suspended in the air in a web of red light. Beneath them are odd sketches of things. There’s a brain and a tree and a chimera-like animal on the ones closest to Longshot. He’s not really sure what they mean and he doesn’t really care. At the center of the circle is a woman with dark hair and glowing red veins.
‘Star does not hesitate, throwing himself at her, swords drawn. She doesn’t even glance over, just waves a hand and sends ‘Star flying backwards and through the wall. The house groans dangerously.
Longshot keeps his focus on the captured kids, grabbing one with round scars up and down her arm. He tries to pull her free but Meredith sends him hurling toward another wall. He throws one of his knives at her as he flies backwards, and misses by about a foot.
The knife embeds itself in the wall behind Meredith as he crashes against the opposite wall. There’s a loud snap followed by a series of cracks, and then the ceiling above them starts to collapse, huge chunks of plaster and wood raining down. With a final groan the center of the second floor falls through, and a large wood wardrobe comes tumbling down, landing on Meredith.
The web of red light disappears and the children all collapse to the ground.
Longshot pulls himself back to the room, where the oldest girl has moved to shield the youngest from the collapsing ceiling with her body.
“Georgia?”
“How do you know my name?” she asks him.
“Your mother sent me,” Longshot explains. “You and the rest of the kids head to the woods. Reese is waiting there for you.”
Georgia nods and helps the little girl up. Carefully skirting the center of the room, she manages to get two of the other kids up and out. The last kid is injured. Longshot isn’t sure if he landed on his leg wrong or if one of the falling pieces of ceiling hit it, but his leg is twisted oddly and there is no way he’s walking out on his own power. He’s too big for Georgia to carry.
Longshot hesitates. The house is groaning more insistently. He can hear cracking from the other rooms and he can’t stop thinking that he hasn’t seen ‘Star since Meredith sent him flying. Then the wall nearest them starts bending inward and Longshot grabs the kid and runs.
He makes it out just as the house begins to collapses in on itself.
“Wait here,” he tells the kid, and he runs back inside.
The house is raining down on him and all Longshot can do is pray that his powers will treat this as a selfless action because he needs them. ‘Star needs them. His power or maybe just regular old luck holds long enough for him to find ‘Star, back in the front room pulling a long piece of wood out of his shoulder. Then the ceiling falls.
“You have to teleport!” Longshot dives to ‘Star.
“I can’t. It’s too soon.” ‘Star argues.
“You can. You have to.”
‘Star looks at Longshot for a long minute and then nods once. He brings up his swords and Longshot pictures the wood just outside. There is a burst of light. For a second the hail of building materials stops, and then they are outside.
‘Star collapses forward into Longshot’s arms.
“You did it. You did it,” Longshot reassures him, rubbing his back. “I—I’m proud of you.”
“You don’t have to be like this,” 'Star says, carefully sitting down.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t have to start acting like my parent just because you know now. Nothing has to change.”
“Right.” Longshot leans back quickly and ‘Star sways slightly before he can sit up under his own power. Longshot curls his hands into fists and resists the urge to reach out. “We have to do something about your shoulder,” he says instead.
‘Star looks down at the hole in his arm. With practiced ease, he shrugs off his shirt and ties it around his shoulder in a messy but functional bandage. He does not ask for help and Longshot does not offer it, though his fingers feel strange and restless. He sits back and they wait for ‘Star to be recovered enough to teleport them all home.
Eventually the kids come out of the woods and settle in around them. They start out sitting quietly but eventually they get to goofing off and running around and acting like kids. Longshot wonders whether ‘Star was like that. It is hard to imagine. He wonders if he ever got to see it.
The silence stretches out between them and presses in and there is too much in Longshot’s head trying to find a way out. He doesn’t know how to say any of it or if it would be fair to ask 'Star to listen to any of it.
“I would have liked to have been,” he finally says, unable to keep it in.
Star looks up from where he’s been pulling up grass with his uninjured hand.
“I would have liked to have been your parent, to have been able to raise you, and I am sorry I wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” Longshot looks out over the group of kids running and laughing. “I just I wish it was different.”
'Star does not say anything for a long time. Longshot does not think he’s going to say anything. There is really nothing that needs to be said. If ‘Star wanted to fix it, he would have.
“The people who raised me,” ‘Star says quietly. “They were good. They loved me and I was happy before Mojo came and made me forget.”
“How—”
“I saw it.”
“Oh, good. That’s good.”
They return to silence, though it doesn’t feel quite as pressing as before. There are still things Longshot wants to ask, but they don’t need answers.
When 'Star feels recovered enough, they open the portal again. Through the X hole in space, their very own morgue comes into view.
“Where the fu—” Jamie says, cutting himself off when a river of kids comes streaming out of the portal. “Fudge! Where the fudge have you been?”
“We had a case,” Longshot explains cheerily. “Please call Ms. Penny Matsun and tell her we found her daughter. Also the rest of their parents or legal guardians.”
“You asshole, I told you to be careful.” Julio slips his arm around ‘Star’s waist and ‘Star leans easily into his support.
“Don’t worry, it is not so bad. How was your mission?” ‘Star asks as they head into the building.
“So boring, we finished up pretty fast but then Layla had us running around a fucking wild goose chase for ‘the best tacos in New York.’ We didn’t get back until like an hour ago.”
“Did you find them?”
“What?”
“The best tacos, did you find them?”
Longshot watches them disappear inside and suddenly very badly wants to call Alison, not for any particular reason, just to hear her voice.
--
some years later
It has been a nice surprise to discover he ages like normal humans. Not that aging is particularly fun in itself—his joints ache every morning now and he isn’t supposed to eat salt anymore—but getting to age with Alison is a gift he would not belittle with minor complaints. They have their own little apartment on the beach and the smell of salt water tugs at long-lost memories. He knows they’ll never really come back, but he likes that they haven’t completely gone away either.
There are far fewer superheroics for them these days. New teams crop up and sometimes blow into town to beg the Longshot to lend them his luck. Sometimes, if the cause is pure enough, he’ll agree. His memory is long now, and he is jaded in ways he didn’t use to be. It takes something special to get him to believe enough for his powers to work. Then he and Alison will run once again to battle. She says she doesn’t miss it, but he can see the way she lights up--both literally and figuratively--when the fight is on. It’s a good life. It’s a pretty long, mostly remembered life and they are sharing it together. It isn’t the most perfect future but it’s pretty close.
He makes them pancakes on Sunday mornings, mostly because he’d seen once on TV that it was a thing people did, and Alison had laughed when he brought it up and said she wasn’t about to argue with homemade pancakes. He’s done it every Sunday he could for almost twenty years.
He’s nearly finished with this week’s batch when ‘Star and Rictor show up, looking a bit like they’ve just been through a war zone and then walked through a desert. They’re a mess and Star’s got their stuff in a bundle hanging off his chest. It’s not the first time 'Star has shown up at random in Longshot’s house. One of the unmentioned side-effects of having a time-travelling child is that you never know exactly when or how he’ll show up, but you can bet he’ll be accompanied by a heap of trouble. Longshot is always happy to see him anyway.
“Hello,” 'Star says. Rictor waves awkwardly. This is probably the youngest Longshot has seen either of them in quite a long time.
“Hi!” He waves his spatula. “Come in, we’re having pancakes.”
“I—you said once, you said you’d have wanted to raise me,” 'Star says instead of responding to the invitation.
“Yes, I remember,” Longshot says, relishing every opportunity he gets to say those words, particularly to his family, whom he has forgotten so often.
“Do you still feel that way?”
“Of course, why?”
The bundle slung across ‘Star’s chest chooses that moment to wriggle and whimper.
“‘Star?” Longshot asks as ‘Star pulls the makeshift sling off his shoulder and hands the bundle to Longshot. Inside is a baby, with Alison’s nose and Alison’s hair and a mark over its eye that is all Longshot.
“If you want,” ‘Star says quietly.
“Is this—” Longshot looks up at ‘Star. Behind him, Alison’s hands have come up to cover her mouth.
“My baby?” she gasps, hurrying towards Longshot and carefully lifting the tiny thing out of Longshot’s frozen arms.
“This—is this how it happened?” Longshot asks.
“Yes, I’m sorry I could not tell you the truth.”
“Are you sure—Mojo will come and—you can take him—you somewhere safer, somewhere that will end better for you.”
Star looks over at Rictor, standing next to Alison and making faces at baby ‘Star. He smiles. “I like where I ended up.”