Hello, lovely people.

FINALLY I HAVE A CHAPTER UP OH MY GOSH IM SORRY I WAS SOOO BUSY.

But another tennis victory for @Haley_Ferland and me, 4 and 0 for both of us, let's rock this thing, feesh. And get out of high school as quick as possible, am I right. 

Anyway, enjoy this chapter. While writing it, my text conversations were this: 

Sierra: THIS SCENE IS HEARTBREAKING

Haley: Why :( 

Sierra: You'll find out

*five minutes later*

Sierra: I'm still trying to finish this so I  can actually finish my homework 

Sierra: POOR BABY VICTOIRE

Sierra: POOR MAX

*two minutes later*

Sierra: JUST POOR CHARACTERS MAN I'M EVIL

*Haley hasn't replied. I suspect she's planning my death.*

:) Have a great day :) 

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Chapter Thirty-Four: Good-Byes

~Thea's POV~

Minotaur is chaotic. When Loki and I walk out from the medical room and into the kitchen, there are quite a few people in here already. Naturally, Kyle's making breakfast, but he doesn't give me a greeting, just glances at Loki, asking how he's doing. While Loki offers him a somewhat short answer, I at least get a little bit of conversation from Emmaline, who has just walked in with Victoire.

Victoire has never had a drop of blood in her life. Videl has never given her any, and according to Angelique and Thor, whenever any of the other Velah, including the elders, have tried to give the young princess anything stronger than fruit punch, Videl almost attacks all of them. Nobody knows why he's doing this, and I don't ask, but both Angelique and I think it's because Videl doesn't want his niece to become dependent on the substance like her ancestors. Maybe he thinks that he can somehow change his race, and how people view them. Maybe instead of being labeled as bloodthirsty savage things, Videl wants his people to be known as cultured and beautiful, but still wild.

Jack is also in the kitchen, leaning against the small counter, trying to have a conversation with Kyle, but not succeeding, and also making coffee, with a little more success. He seems relieved to see me, and wastes no time in abandoning the coffee machine (and the silent Kyle) to hug me and give me a sweet kiss on the cheek.

"Blimey, you look exhausted," he says. He nods to the counter, "I made coffee. Want some?"

"Yes, please," I say, ignoring the fact that I tend to get really hyper after coffee. I need a pick-me-up after last night. And Jack's coffee is pretty good, although he does put a lot of milk in it.

Videl and Angelique come in with Tony and Bruce about ten minutes later, when I'm eating a biscuit and talking to Jack, and also pretending I don't notice that Kyle isn't talking to me.

Tony, as usual, has a piece of paper in his hand, and Bruce has a small cardboard box. Pepper trails behind, typing on a sleek phone.

"All right, listen up," Mark says, "We're all leaving today at some point, and I need to go over flight information. But first, for each group in each cycle, there's going to be a leader. This does not of course, mean that the leader is the supreme Dark Lord or Sauron or Darth Vader. But when important decisions come up, if they do come up, and it would be nice if for once they didn't come up, then the leader gets the final say. They're also in charge of passports, which Bruce is holding, and that sort of thing."

I make a face with a mouth full of bagel. Seeing as I'm paired with Loki for Ireland, I'm fairly certain I know who the leader's going to be. Across from me, near Kyle, Loki raises his eyebrows at me.

"Let's go through this real quick for everyone in the room...." Tony looks around, "So basically everyone but the Norway and Macedonia groups," he says, "Firstly, Ireland, right, that's the royal father-daughter duo. Obviously, sorry Thea, Loki's in charge."

"Mmph," I say.

"We've been through this about a half a dozen times, so it would be great if this time, you actually listened to him if you have to."

I give him my best I'm-not-a-child look.

Apparently, that's enough, because he turns away. "France. Videl and Angelique, you're heading there. But Natasha's in charge of that one, we're not even going to try and war it out between the two of you."

"How much of a war did Clint put up?" asks Videl, who is currently trying to pry Victoire off his leg.

"None," says Tony.

"Shocker," says Angelique.

"And the fifth group is Iceland, that'td be Ky, Emmaline, Jack, and Peter, wherever the heck he is."

"Probably sleeping," says Jack, stirring his coffee. His hair is as fluffy as it usually is in the mornings. "Let me guess. I'm in charge. I accept this post of leadership with all the highest qualities of maturity and-"

"Sorry, bud, the honor goes to Kyle," says Tony.

"Kyle?" squawks Jack. "Why Kyle? Why not Emmaline? Or Peter? Or even better, me?"

Kyle glances up from whisking eggs. He barely responds to Jack's lamentations. He looks like he's gotten just as much sleep as I have.

"You know, Thea reacted so much nicer than you are," says Tony, who looks very pleased with himself. "Apparently she's matured more than you have"

"That ain't no competition," says Bruce.

"Bruce!" exclaims Jack with a great amount of theatrics. "Et tu?"

"Moving on," says Tony, "Bruce has got the passports, which we'll actually pass out later, we just need to confirm some of your information. Now to flights. Everyone has a layover except for Norway. We're all taking off from JFK, but at around two different times, arriving at around 3:00 and at around 9:30."

"Ouch," says Jack, "I'd hate to be the 9:30."

"Works out well, you're not," says Tony. Only two of the groups are going to the airport at 3:00, and that's Ireland and Iceland. Ireland's flight leaves at..." He looks at the paper, "Precisely 4:34 PM, has a layover in Amsterdam, and you should arrive in Cork at 9:40, Ireland time. Overnight, but that's the same for all of us. For the Iceland people, your flight leaves at 5, layover is actually in Boston, and you'll get to Reykjavik at 6:40 AM, Iceland time."

"Oy," says Jack.

"The three other groups are getting to the airport around 9, as I mentioned," says Tony, "And actually, as it so happens, the France and Norway people are getting on the same flight; France lays over in Oslo. But just so you know, Videl and Angelique, that duo flight takes off at precisely 10 PM. Your layover, as I said, is in Oslo, and you'll get to Paris at about 8 at night."

"Geez Louise," says Videl.

"Sucks for you," says Jack, ever the commentator.

"I mean, you could Jaunt," says Tony, "But that'd be an exhausting heck of a trip."

Videl doesn't say anything, just steals a bite of my bagel and pops it into his mouth before I can decapitate him.

"Packing's getting started now, we're going for carry-ons."

"What about weapons?" I ask.

"Sorry, we don't have time to bow down to the governments, especially if we're potentially about to be stealing from them."

"What if we get attacked?" asks Videl.

"Use your head," suggests Tony, "Or your fangs. At least you've got built-in spears."

*

The day isn't as chaotic as I thought it'd be. Most everything is already packed, thanks to Natasha and Clint, in labeled green bags near the entrance to Minotaur. Jack and especially I get through the rest of the morning with coffee and a few rounds of Egyptian Rat Slap, which Peter teaches to us once he gets up at around freaking noon.

I go over my passport information with Tony. Everything on there is actually true, except my last name, which is still listed as Fossil. For some reason, every time I see that name now, I get really annoyed. The name Fossil doesn't even relate to me. It's just the last name of a man who left my mom.

My picture is absolutely awful. Tony had taken it more than a year ago for some SHIELD info stuff. I still have blonde hair, and I look like I really want to get out of there. I probably had.

The Asgardians and Velah have their own passports, the only ones that have a little bit of information made up. All their birthplaces are New York City, and their birthdays are random dates. Tony hadn't had any pictures of the Velah, so he'd taken some last night and electronically uploaded them to the files. Videl's had taken about ten tries because Videl had insisted on re-doing them until he'd looked perfect. I'd asked Tony to re-do mine, but had been pushed out of the room, which I didn't think was very fair.

The afternoon is also full of Victoire crying for half of the time. She's gotten attached to Emmaline almost as much as Videl, and since both of them are going to be leaving, she's in shambles. She keeps bouncing from one to the other, sometimes crying, sometimes begging for "Veel" and 'Line' to stay with her, or to take her with them.

At one point, she begins crying and screaming so loudly, Videl picks her up and carries her into his room, shutting the door behind her. I don't want to go in there, but ten minutes later, I have to, to ask Videl if he's eating before we leave for the airport.

I find Videl holding Victoire on his lap, running his fingers through her curly blonde hair that curls much like his. Her screams have gone down to soft sobs, and her tiny fingers wrap around his thin but toned bicep, squeezing him so tightly, his skin turns slightly white. But he doesn't seem to care, and just rocks her back and forth.

"N-n-no," she wails, shaking her head and rubbing it against his arm, "N-No g-go."

Videl glances at me. He looks tired.

When he shifts slightly, Victoire lets out a short shriek and squeezes him tighter. "N-no!"

"Victoire," says Videl, trying to unclasp her, "I"ll be fine. I promise."

She doesn't reply. But she does cry harder. I didn't think such a tiny person could cry so many tears.

"What's wrong?" I mouth to Videl. He shakes his head.

"Hey," he says, turning back to Victoire, moving up her chin with his finger. "I promise, I'm not going to go like your mama and daddy did."

"But i-i-if!"

Something like a weight settles in my stomach. Victoire is barely one year old. How can she possibly be scared already about someone she loves dying? She's too young. She should be laughing and playing with Play-Doh, or whatever baby Velahs play with, not crying and clinging to her uncle, her legal guardian and begging for him not to die.

Life just isn't fair.

"Nothing will happen to me," says Videl. But his shoulders are slumped, and I know that he's lying through his teeth, because nobody knows what will happen to any of us.

"I promise, Scorpion. Okay?"

She shakes her head and begins to sob a fresh stream of tears.

Videl's jaw is set and his mouth is a firm line as he looks back at me. "I won't eat right now, Thea, you can go ahead and go. I might be a couple minutes."

My heart breaks for both of them, but I walk out of the room and close the door behind me. Before I shut it though, I look back. Videl is leaning down to kiss Victoire on the top of her mass of curls, and either my vision is getting messed up, or his amber eyes are clearly watering at the sound of Victoire's sobs.

*

After lunch, about a half an hour before I have to leave for the airport with Loki and the Iceland group, I decide to go see Max. He's been sleeping in and out throughout the day, and I haven't actually gotten the chance to talk to him since the episode in the training room.

But my desire to see him depletes significantly when I poke my head in his small room and see Kyle already sitting beside the bed.

"Hey, hold up there Ace," says Max before I can sneak away. I try to ignore the weakness in his voice. "C'mon back in here."

The room is dim, an unlit candle next to the bed making me wonder if the light bothers Max now. I slink around the other side of the bed from Kyle, running against the wall, and then sitting on the mattress at Max's feet. I can feel his body heat from here.

He looks awful. His skin is pale and almost transparent, like it's stretched over his cheekbones. His eyes are a little sunken, but his smile is still wide.

"How do you feel?" I ask.

Max shrugs, "Almost dead."

"Don't fucking say that!"

I spit it out before I can hold my tongue and instantly regret it.

Kyle's eyes snap over to me, and Max raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," says Max quietly, "That was pretty stupid of me to say, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was," I say stonily regretting these words too.

Max reaches forward and takes my hand. His fingers are scorching hot. "I want you to promise that you'll be okay out there, and that you'll look out for yourself."

"I will," I say. "I promise."

"I mean it," says Max, squeezing my hand and taking his brother's with his other. He grins. "Both of you. Don't make me have to come to one of your funerals before mine."

The corner of Kyle's mouth quirks up. I don't crack a smile.

"And please, for my peace of mind, both of you make up before you go globetrotting," says Max, "I heard what both of you said, by the way."

I look at Kyle. He looks at me.

"I'm sorry, missy," he says, "I know this wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't yours either," I mutter. I don't like apologizing. Ever. Even when I know I have to.

"It was my fault, as Loki so adequately put it," says Max. "I was trying to tell myself that I'm perfectly fine and that I could do something normal. But I'm not. And that's just reality. So for both of you, do me a favor and remember that. If you're not feeling okay, then don't pretend that you are, don't hold it in, okay? And I mean, don't swear at each other. I swear I live with a pair of sailors."

"We'll try," says Kyle dryly.

"Hey Thea," says Max, glancing at me. "I know you haven't prayed in a really long time, and that's okay. But all three of us are going to be separated from each other for the first time in a while. Things might happen. I think now's a good a time as any."

"Okay," I say quietly, trying not to think that things might be Max dying.

Kyle reaches over the bed and takes my right hand. Now we're all connected. Because we're a family.

Max begins to pray out loud. I pay attention to his words, but most of all, I pay attention to the reverence in his voice. The acknowledgement that there's a plan for everything, and that everything will work out how it's supposed to. It brings me peace, and for once, I begin to open my heart a little.

When Max stops talking, I open my eyes and find that I'm breathing a little more evenly. But then, I see the blood on Max's lips, glistening in the light from the door. I swallow. Was this moment a good-bye? Is this the last time I'll ever talk to Max again?

I reach forward and wrap my arms around him, hugging him gently, not wanting to hurt him. His arm goes around me and squeezes me with all the strength it has, and I feel tears coming to my eyes, but I blink them back.

I sit back and smile wearily at him. He smiles back.

I point my finger at the unlit candle and instantly, a small flame licks at the wick. "Please don't let it burn out," I say to Max.

"I'll try not to, Ace," he replies, "I'll sure try not to."

Ten minutes later, I'm crying at the end of the hallway, and the first person who walks up to me, I don't know who it is and don't care. I just send a ball of fire in their direction and know it's not Loki because they go away.

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