Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Keep away from him,” Guido warns. “It could be a trick—” 

“It’s not.” Julio knows it's not a trick. Knows it in his bones, in his blood. “Shatterstar! You okay?”

’Star looks up at him, his marked eye milky-white and rimmed in shadow. He looks so fucking skinny, starved , and Julio’s pretty sure if he weren't holding him up that he’d collapse back to the ground. “Rictor?” he rasps. 

“Yeah, it's me, dude,” Julio says, and despite everything, he’s smiling. “It’s okay. Whatever happened, it's gonna be fine. No worries.”

Shatterstar gives a little nod. His eyes sweep over Julio’s face. And then, in one fluid motion, Shatterstar pulls him close and sinks his fangs into Julio’s neck. 

There’s not even any fear in him when it happens, which might be cause for concern at some point down the line but oh, God, Julio does not fucking care . Letting ’Star drink from him feels heavenly and sinful all at once. Feels like coming home after so long adrift, like this pinching pain in his neck is the one thing anchoring him to a planet that has forsaken him. 

“Hey, get the hell offa him,” Guido yells, surging forward. Julio holds up a hand, flashes a look at Guido. He doesn’t shake his head out of concern it might dislodge ’Star, but the intent is there. 

“No, no, it’s fine, Guido,” he promises, running a hand through Shatterstar’s shorn hair. He cups the back of ’Star’s head and holds him there. “It’s okay.” As far as he’s concerned, ’Star can keep drinking until he drains him dry. 

“Like hell it is, he fuckin’ bit you! He’s still possessed!”

“No.” Julio rattles out a shaky breath. “No, this is all him.”

The car ride back is… well, “awkward” isn't a strong enough word. 

’Star’s passed out in the backseat and Guido keeps looking at Julio funny, which, yeah. He’s got a bandana wrapped around his neck to stem the bleeding. He’s fine— maybe a little woozy. Maybe could do with some orange juice and cookies once they get back home, but really, he’s fine. He’s more concerned about Shatterstar and whatever had a hold of him before he snapped out of it. 

They’d kissed, too, once ’Star broke away from his neck. Julio could taste his own blood on Shatterstar’s tongue and he was so glad to have him back in his arms that he didn’t even care that Guido was watching the whole damn thing. 

He cares now . 

All the things Guido isn’t saying are starting to choke the air out of the car. When he finally can't take the silence anymore, Julio says, “Is it the gay thing or the vampire thing?” 

“Heh.” Guido looks back at the road. “Hard to say.”

“Great.”

It all kind of goes to chaos— reconnecting with Val and Darwin, fighting Cortex. Even throughout everything, all Rictor can really think about is getting ’Star’s mouth back on him. His instinct to protect and provide for the guy is joining forces with his instinct to touch and be touched by him. He’s thinking, You need this. I need this . Nourishment for Shatterstar, connection for himself. 

He wants to be helpful.

He wants to be held . 

Jamie and Layla make it back home safe and sound— well, sort of. Layla’s old now, which. Whatever. There’s an imaginary timer clicking down in his head, measuring out how long he can make it without touching every inch of Shatterstar and reassuring himself that he’s okay. He manages to sneak away from the tail end of Jamie’s story, hand firm on Shatterstar’s elbow as he spirits them away up the stairs, to the safety of his bedroom. 

As soon as the door is shut, Julio is brushing his hair away from his neck and tugging the collar of his shirt down. He can’t spend another second looking at ’Star’s skinny, starving form. “Here,” he says, baring his throat. “You got interrupted earlier.” 

Shatterstar makes a noise and stumbles backward, knocking into the bed and dropping onto it. Like he’s scrambling to get away. “Julio, no ,” he says. “I won’t feed off you.” 

“C’mon, it’s fine,” Julio insists, trying to keep the note of desperation out of his voice. Trying to hide how much he needs this. How much he needs ’Star to need it. “We’ve done it before.” 

He watches ’Star wince, and it’s like something cold and dark is slithering in his stomach. Like ’Star is disgusted with him. He can’t do this. Can’t survive this , after fucking everything, can’t take this rejection and roll with it. His hand starts to shake where it’s still gripping his collar, and then suddenly Shatterstar is in front of him. His hands soft, combing Julio’s hair back in place. 

“Por favor solo abrázame,” he says, the words a little stilted from disuse. His eyes are huge and shining, and he is not the vibrant alive boy that Julio came to know in the Arizona desert but he is real , shadowy and scared and skinny and here . “Can you just hold me? That is all I want.” 

And, well.

Who could deny a request like that? 

Julio wakes in the middle of the night to the sound of the window latch being unlocked. Shatterstar realizes his mistake, notices immediately that he’s made too loud a noise, spoiled his escape. “ Fekt. ”

“Bailing on me again?” Julio asks, pushing himself up on the pillows. And he wants to be angry, wants to be livid , but just like his connection to the planet, his fury seems to have fled him. He just feels cold, and alone, and desperate. “Couldn't even make it to sunrise, huh? Guess that tracks.”

In the darkness, he can't make out the expression on ’Star’s face, but the hunch in his shoulders is very clearly pained. Embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” ’Star says roughly. “It isn't safe.”

“Oh. Okay,” Julio says. He starts to get out of bed. “We can go check for cameras. Is that what you need? I’ll help you check every room.”

“No—”

“Seriously, dude, we can look in every nook and cranny, I’ll make sure—”

“ No ,” Shatterstar growls, and now he bares his teeth and Julio can see the moonlight glint off his teeth. He thinks of Dracula , and how hard they tried to stop the scary vampire from swooping into the window and devouring the poor young maiden within. Now he’s trying to stop his vampire from leaving out the window. “ I’m not safe,” ’Star says. “As long as I am here, you’re in danger. Already tonight you have enticed me to drink your blood.”

“Because you look fuckin’ starved, ’Star,” Julio whisper-yells, because he so does not need Monet and Theresa waking up and overhearing this shit. “I know what I can take. I want to help you.” 

“No, no, Julio, I have read about this,” Shatterstar says. “It is a part of my vampirism. I have you in my thrall .”

Julio can't help it— he laughs, tries to stifle it but it comes out like a snort. He feels a little bad when Shatterstar’s shoulders slump down, but holy shit. “Buddy, I don't know how to tell you this,” he says, “but you've had me in your thrall since the first time you threatened to ‘temporarily’ crush my larynx when we were seventeen.”

More white teeth in the darkness, his white eye flashing. Julio watches him in silhouette cock his head to the side. “You… desired me?” 

It feels like an accusation as much as it is a simple question. Or, no, solely a simple question. Shatterstar doesn’t sound disgusted, he sounds stunned . Julio has a bad habit of hearing the things he’s terrified of hearing when other people speak. But Shatterstar has always been so blunt. He says what he means, and his flat affect makes it hard to read too much into what he’s saying. If ’Star wants to make a point, he will make it.

“Yeah, dude,” Julio admits. And it feels crazy that it should be some revelation, after everything they’ve been through. After all this time. He’s not as scared of being queer now as he was in their youth— enough half-hearted attendance at pride parades and hand stuff with Pietro Maximoff has helped there— but guilt still curdles beneath his skin. It’s not like ’Star ever looked at him in that light until he got turned and suddenly depended on him for sustenance. “Sorry. It doesn’t matter. It’s not about me—”

“Julio, everything is about you,” Shatterstar says. And then he’s on top of him, tackling Julio back into the bed, hands on his wrist, fangs gleaming, his taller frame pressing Julio into the bed, and he knows he should be scared shitless but something inside him is soaring . It’s been so long since ’Star has gotten rough with him like this, since ’Star has even been around , and he missed it. His body missed it. “I thought it was wrong,” he says. “I thought something was wrong with me, the thoughts I had about you… and then something was wrong with me, and I was Changed, and I was…” His eyes trace the bob of Julio’s throat as he swallows, and then dart up to his mouth. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Go for it,” Julio croaks. 

Shatterstar crushes their lips together, and even though it’s not, it feels like a first kiss all over again. A fresh page. Nobody’s leaving, and Julio’s a little older, a little braver, a little more willing to say exactly what it is he’s feeling and thinking. Maybe. Maybe, they can make this work. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Julio says. “We’ll figure it all out in the morning, yeah?” 

“Okay,” Shatterstar says, curling over him, heavy and light at once like a feather duvet. “I will stay.” 

Julio expected Guido to blab about Shatterstar’s… condition … to the rest of the team, so he’s got his hackles up when he and ’Star go downstairs in the morning. Terry’s the only one in the kitchen, and when she sees them she hisses something— “ Abhartach” — and stands up. 

“Hello, Theresa,” ’Star says, holding his chin up.

There’s a lot going on in her face, and Julio struggles to parse it— she’s scared, and she’s sad, mostly. “Shatty,” she says. “What’s happened to ye?” 

A flash of hurt on ’Star’s face. “Life and death,” he says. And then, very quietly, “It is still me , Theresa.” 

“Yeah?” Quick as a flash, she pulls something from her pocket and tosses it toward him. His reflexes are as fast as ever, and Shatterstar catches it easily— then lets out a sharp exhale as the rosary scorches his hand. 

Julio grabs the thing and hurls it back in Terry’s face. “The fuck are you doing?” 

“It’s not him, Ric,” she says, face pinched and devastated. “I’m sorry, that is not our Shatterstar.” 

“It’s him!” Julio says. “I was with him when he got bit, okay? I know this is… fucking, crazy, but he’s the same person. Don’t be a dick.” 

“Julio,” Shatterstar says, reaching for him, and then suddenly in a whirl of red hair Terry is there, standing between Ric and ’Star. She squares her shoulders and stares right up at Shatterstar, fierce and determined. “I am still me, Theresa,” he says softly. “We were friends. Please. Please, let us be friends again.” 

“You’re not my friend,” she says, and he can’t see her face but Julio can hear the tears in her voice. “You’re some dead thing wearin’ his face. Puttin’ on a show to get close to folks, but you can’t have Rictor. I won’t let you hurt him.” 

Shatterstar seems to think about that for a moment, and then he nods. “Theresa, if you are going to kill me, please proceed,” he says. “I just ask that you give Julio enough time to leave the room because I would not wish him to see.”

“ Dude —”

“Julio. Please.” He refocuses on Terry. “I still have my thoughts. I still have my… heart? I am the same in many ways. I can’t allow you to kill me without fighting back, I am not… I would not be able to do that, Theresa, I’m sorry. But there would be, uhm, ‘no hard feelings.’”

“Like hell there won’t be!” Julio yells. 

“Julio!” ’Star says. 

For a moment, Terry’s eyes dart between Rictor and Shatterstar, like she’s making a decision. And then she swears under her breath and steps away. “Whatever. I have to make a call.” She starts to stomp out of the room, but then she turns back, looks ’Star up and down and says, “The short hair suits you, Shatty.” And then she’s gone. 

Instead of relaxing when his would-be killer leaves the room, Shatterstar just looks more tense. 

“I meant to ask about the hair,” Julio admits. “It’s a big change, for sure.” 

“Cortex did this to me,” Shatterstar says, eyes fixed on the floor. 

Oh, Jesus. Shatterstar used to talk about the Mojoworld stylists and the changes they made to him without ever asking how he felt or what he wanted. He was always so precious about his hair. And now, here— shorn like a sheep at Cortex’s whim. “Lo siento, lo siento mucho,” Julio murmurs. “Well, hey, you can grow it back out—”

“I cannot,” ’Star says, still looking down. 

“Huh?”

“My hair,” he explains, finally looking up. “It doesn’t grow anymore. Hasn’t since I was bitten.” 

“Fuck,” Julio whispers, and he wants to be embarrassed about the tears in his eyes but the shame won’t come. Shatterstar deserves a few tears shed over him. Over this , a violation where the hits never stop coming. “C’mere,” Julio says, holding his arms out, and Shatterstar slumps against him, hands gripping at the bottom of his t-shirt, his head tucked into Julio’s neck. 

And even as he wraps his arms around ’Star, Julio feels hyper-aware of how close his jugular is to Shatterstar’s lips. How easy it would be. And now, now the shame comes. He wants ’Star to feed. He wants to be special and necessary to the guy again. It’s hard to think of the feeling as anything but selfish, even when he tells himself it’s about nourishment . 

“I’ve got you,” Julio says, trying to banish the longing from his mind. “I’ve got you, ’Star.” 

“You’re going to have to eat eventually,” Julio points out, finally, bringing up the ugly elephant in the room. “How have you been… uhm, feeding?”

Shatterstar pulls his arms closer around himself. “Before I returned to Mojoworld, Guthrie was sending me these… blood bags. I believe he was raiding the Red Cross.”

“Oh. Yeah, I mean, fuck ’em. They don't let gay guys give blood, so.”

“Mm.”

Figures Sam would take care of him. He was always picking up the slack for Cable. And for Rictor. Much as Julio hates the thought of having anything in common with Cable, he knows they both made a sort of mission out of making sure ’Star was okay. He knows they both failed that mission. 

“And,” Julio says, because all he knows how to do is poke at bruises, “once you were back on Mojoworld?”

His eyes, yellow and white like stars and the moon, fall to his knees. He tugs his arms even tighter around himself and says nothing. 

“It’s okay,” Julio says softly. “Forget it. I shouldn’t’ve asked.” 

“Please do not be afraid of me,” he mumbles. And Julio remembers a dead bird, dropped at his feet like a gift from a loyal hunting dog. 

“Never,” he swears, reaching out and offering a hand to ’Star. “You’re not as scary as you think you are, corazón .” 

Which is an insane thing to say. Of course he’s scary. He was scary even before he got turned. And while it’s true that Julio is far more likely to be scared for ’Star than of ’Star, he can’t say he’s never been afraid. 

But the words make ’Star smile, just a little. 

They settle into a weird sort of equilibrium. Or maybe it's entropy. Something like that. Shatterstar refuses to drink from Rictor, and neither of them can get in touch with Sam. The solution comes from Jamie making a remarkably selfless move— possibly he just wanted to be the center of attention. Regardless, he volunteers however many dupes Shatterstar needs to keep him well-fed, explaining that he can just reabsorb them once ’Star is done feeding, and the blood loss is negligible. 

’Star is freshly quenched, having fed off one of the Jamies this morning, and his eyes are bright and his hands feel warm. Or maybe that's just Julio’s own sweaty palms making it seem that way. It feels like a good time to talk.

“You can’t be telling Terry shit like ‘go ahead and kill me,’ or whatever, alright?” Julio says, breaking through the fresh scab to the heart of the wound.

“Oh, look who is the kettle calling the pot a kettle.” 

Julio freezes, because the idiom is jumbled but the meaning is clear. “What are you talking about?” he says, even though he knows . 

“Jamie Madrox told me,” Shatterstar says. “The dupe, while I fed from him… He would not shut up! He told me about what you did. What you tried to do, after the Scarlet Witch’s curse took hold.” 

“That wasn’t Jamie’s to tell.” 

“You were on the news , Julio,” Shatterstar accuses. “You were going to kill yourself.” His words are beginning to drop into the guttural accent he had when he first came to Earth. “And now, still , you ask me to hurt you. Still, you tempt me to drain the life from you. Julio, you are the only one who has never used me as a weapon. Until now.” His eyes are shining with hurt, and the condemnation knocks the wind out of Julio’s chest. 

“No… it’s not…” Because, fuck, yeah, he wants ’Star to feed off him. He misses it, misses it with an ache that is different from but nearly as strong as the empty chasm inside of him where he used to feel the Earth. He wants it the way he wants to show ’Star his favorite movies and play him his favorite songs and feed him his favorite foods. Only ’Star can’t eat human food anymore. It’s all Julio has left to give— his heart, and the blood that pumps through it. “This isn’t about me, alright? It’s plain and simple. You’re a vampire now—”

“Yes, I am a vampire,” Shatterstar says, rage seething through his teeth. “I am highly attuned to the smell of fresh blood.” And now his hand crawls up to tug back the sleeve of Julio’s sweater, showing off the still-stinging lines along Julio’s wrist. He jerks his hand back from ’Star, the shame suffocating. “I am not a blade you can use to cut yourself,” Shatterstar says. “I…” And oh, fuck, he’s full-out crying. A tear traces a path down ’Star’s face, and he sniffs and licks it off his upper lip. “I thought you knew this.”

“It… it isn’t like that,” Julio swears. But he can’t say what it is like— that Shatterstar’s fangs latching onto his neck, numbing him, drinking him down, was the most erotic thing he’s ever experienced in his life. That he had to get his blood drawn a year ago to check his iron levels and got an inconvenient hard-on at the phlebotomist. That when he lost his virginity to Rahne he begged her to bite him because he couldn’t get off without picturing ’Star. “I promise. It isn’t like that. I don’t… I don’t want you to hurt me.” I want you to need me . 

“But you do want to be hurt,” Shatterstar says.

“No, fuck, I am hurt,” Julio says. “I’m in pain all the fucking time, ’Star.” And he hasn’t been able to say this shit out loud to anyone — not the dupe that pretended to talk him off the ledge and then shoved him, not Terry or Monet, not Rahne, not the shrink that Madrox hired. 

But ’Star has always been a special exception. 

“I want to die all the fucking time,” he says, voice rising. Frantically, he pulls his sleeve down to cover his wrist back up because he can just say it, he can just fucking say it, he doesn’t need to visual companion. “Maybe…” Shit. How can he admit it to ’Star when he hasn’t even been able to admit it to himself? “Maybe I like the idea of dying for a good reason, though,” he says, sick and ashamed. “I didn’t think it was… but, but I’m sorry, ’Star. It’s not that I see you as a weapon. But there’s, maybe… I dunno. Maybe when you’re a nail, everything looks like a hammer.” 

“That is not the expression.” 

“I know,” Julio says. “I just. Don’t know how else to say what I’m feeling.” 

A small, grim smile forms on ’Star’s face. “This, I understand.” He pauses, and then— “I tried to end myself, too.”

It’s the absolute worst thing he could have said. Julio feels like he’s been dropped. Cracked like an egg. “ What ?”

“I left myself in the sun,” ’Star explains. “And even when my skin began to char, I did not move. I stayed. But… when night came, I just healed. I just healed.” He chews on his lip. “Between my healing factor and the impenetrability that comes with this curse of vampirism, I am practically unkillable. It is… inconvenient.”

Julio gasps in enough breath to speak. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I’m glad that you are as well,” Shatterstar says. “If you had succeeded in your suicide attempt… if I had returned to a world deprived of you…”

“I didn’t think you gave a shit anymore,” Julio says, his throat dry. “That’s why you left, isn’t it?” 

He looks as if Julio slapped him. “You think I left because I didn’t care?” he says, voice all eggshells and broken glass. “How could you... ? Julio, I left to save you. I left to protect you from me.” 

Which is crazy. ’Star is the one who needs to be protected— from the world, from himself, from so-called best friends who care more about cheap thrills than ’Star’s wellbeing. The kissing is one thing, but Julio wants more , wants stuff he’s not allowed to want. Wants to be touched, bitten, sucked, wants to be devoured , wants to be fucked. Shatterstar thought Julio was looking at him and seeing a weapon? It’s worse. He’s seeing a way to get himself off. 

“Well, I’m powerless now. Weaker than ever,” Julio points out. “You gonna leave again to protect me?”

“No. My life felt too quiet without you,” Shatterstar says. “And I am afraid that if I leave, you will try to end your life again.” 

Wow! That’s a healthy basis for a relationship! Not that ’Star even wants a relationship. He likes the kisses because they happen in movies, but he doesn’t like the kinds of movies that Julio wants to make with him. “I handled myself fine in Mexico,” he spits. “Woke up and didn’t know if you were dead in a ditch somewhere. I waited three days for you to come back, ’Star. You didn’t care if I offed myself back then.” 

Shatterstar’s expression crumples. “Julio—”

“Drop dead,” Julio grumbles, shoving past him and out the door. 

Trying to escape a vampire who was already a predator before he became a creature of the night is a hopeless cause. Julio makes it a couple of blocks and collapses onto the steps of a jazz bar, limbs locking up. It’s like he’s back there again, alone in a dirty motel room, woozy with blood loss and completely, utterly alone. Left behind. 

Shatterstar finds him soon enough, eyes glinting in the streetlights. He climbs up the steps and perches on the landing. Standing, while Julio sits, which just figures. Not like him to sink down to Julio’s level. “Something you want to talk about?” Shatterstar presses after too long a silence for his liking. 

Julio scowls and wraps his hands around his knees. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Try me.” 

“I…” Julio sucks his teeth. Looks away from Shatterstar. What does it matter, now? He doesn’t want to say it because it would hurt ’Star? He already hurt ’Star. It’s, like, all he can do. Finally, quietly, he says, “I like it.”

“Like it?” 

“When I would… ‘donate blood’ to you,” Julio continues. “It… it felt good.” He cringes. He’s gonna need to spell it out as clear as possible, or they’re just going to have to keep having this conversation until ’Star understands. Until ’Star can see him for what he is. “Sexually, ’Star. It… it felt like a sex thing, to me.” 

There it is. He’s a degenerate and a shitty friend. Now ’Star can take off, again , and Rictor can go on continuing to not kill himself purely out of spite. 

Shatterstar crouches down on the steps beside him. He reaches his hand out and for a crazy second, Julio thinks he’s going to put a hand on his inner thigh, and he flushes all over. But ’Star just takes his hand gently, clasping it. Their connected hands hang between them. 

“Julio… I know.” 

Julio gapes. “You know?” 

“I did not have the words, in Guadalajara,” ’Star says. “But I felt the same… yearning. The same craving.” 

What. “What?” 

“When I drank from you,” he says. “Tasted you…” His voice drops lower. “It was arousing to me, as well. I knew how I was feeling. I only knew how you were feeling because I could smell it on you.” 

“Jesus,” Julio mumbles, flushing even more. “That— that should not be as hot as it is.” 

“I… I will not drink from you,” Shatterstar says. “But… I would like to have a sexual relationship. With you. If… if it would be agreeable to you.”

Julio laughs, a little stunned. “Yeah, man,” he says. “Yeah, sure thing.” 

Unfortunately, they only get as far as taking each other’s shirts off before Rahne walks in, seven months pregnant and horrified at the sight of Julio having gay vampire sex— or trying to, anyway. She can smell what ’Star is, right away, and then her own fangs are out. “What’ve ye done to Rictor?” she howls, and for a delirious moment Julio realizes that having a werewolf and a vampire fight over him is, tragically, very Twilight . 

“Nothing,” Shatterstar smirks. “Yet. If you’d gotten here five minutes later…” 

Buddy. Wrong time to be sexy. 

Rahne’s on him in seconds, but before her claws can even pierce his skin, the cross she wears around her neck swings forward and burns against ’Star’s chest. He makes a noise when the cross burns him, something wounded and pitiful that makes Julio’s heart clench, and then Rahne shoves him through the window and follows him down. “Soulless thing!” she’s screaming. “What are ye, some kind of incubus? Seducing him, using your vampire mind control to make him do your bidding? You’re disgusting !” 

Julio misses whatever ’Star’s retort is because he’s sprinting down the stairs. Unfortunately, he has to get to the street the flatscan way. By the time he gets down there, Rahne is trembling with rage and still threatening Shatterstar. “I’ll carve ye up like a prize goose, filthy bloodsucker!”

“Rahne, Rahney, it’s okay,” Julio says, holding his hands up. 

“How in God’s name is it okay ?” 

“It’s not mind control,” Julio says. “It’s not anything like that.” 

And he tells her the truth. That he’s gay. That he wants to be with Shatterstar, of his own free will. Not because of the vampire thing, but not in spite of it, either. He tells her as much of the truth as he can stomach to. 

In return, she lies to him about her baby.

Chapter Text

“I love you. I want us both to eat well.” - Christopher Citro

X-Factor Investigations continues to be X-Factor Investigations— which is, essentially, a haywire factory. Shatterstar’s not on the team for long before his status as the only supernatural creature gets revoked by Pip the Troll joining up. It’s starting to look like a damn Spirit Halloween around here.

Julio and Shatterstar do finally have sex, which doesn’t go exactly how Julio’s imagined it but feels breathtaking and special all the same. Shatterstar keeps his fangs sheathed but he does press gentle, gentle kisses along Julio’s pulse points, his neck, his wrists, and it’s such a fucking cliché, ’Star kissing his wrists, but he loves it anyway. 

They spend most nights and plenty of afternoons and also many of their mornings learning each other’s bodies, figuring out what feels good for both of them. Julio stops wearing the cross earring he bought during his George Michael phase after it accidentally burns ’Star’s neck while they’re making out. But then one night Shatterstar asks him to wear it again, to hurt him just a little bit on purpose. Leaving little crosses sunburned into his skin for a few minutes before they heal. 

Julio wants to call him a hypocrite for being into a little pain during sex, but in the moment he’s too turned on to care. 

Monet returns home from shopping one day to find Ric and ’Star watching TV on the couch. Well, Julio’s on the couch. ’Star is crouched on the floor, leaning forward so he can absorb the show better. Even though he’s seen it a million times. 

Julio hears Monet scoff and looks over in time to see her roll her eyes. Just in case the scoff wasn’t clear enough. “You’re watching Buffy ? Isn’t that a little on the nose?” 

“It is my ‘comfort show,’” Shatterstar answers, not looking away from Spike and Willow on the screen. 

“Hmph. I liked Angel better,” Monet says. 

“It has its merits,” ’Star says. “I could not enjoy it any longer after I learned of the horrible way director Joss Whedon treated actress Charisma Carpenter while she was pregnant.” 

Monet stares at the back of his head incredulously for a moment and then huffs. “Okay, fine, you win, you’re a better person than me!” she says, and she starts to stomp down the hall— but then she’s interrupted by a knock on the door. “Julio, will you get that?” 

“Why me?” 

“Because you’re the secretary,” she says. 

He flips her off, but he gets off the couch. “Just don’t expect me to start wearing pantyhose and heels.” 

It’s the only thing that actually makes ’Star look away from the television. “I would like that very much.” 

Monet snickers and Julio flips her off again before he opens the door. 

Jubilee is standing there, looking— well, she’s always been shorter than Julio, but she’s never looked small before. “Oh,” she says, voice breathy. She looks sick behind her big pink sunglasses, and a nasty, selfish part of him worries that she’s got some new variant of Legacy Virus and she’s brought it here . “Hey, Ric. Um. Boom-Boom told me that, um. Well, sh— she told me about Shatterstar.” 

“Uh,” Julio says, glancing behind him. ’Star has stood up now, too, and he’s hovering behind Julio. Sniffing the air. After shooting him a quizzical look, Julio wheels back around to the girl on the doorstep. “He’s not, like, a threat to anyone. If Scott Summers sent you here to mess with him—”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Jubilee says. “I just… I just need to talk to him? Please?” 

It’s a weird request. Because, what, is she dying to know more about what it’s like being a vampire? To be fair, she does strike him as someone who would like vampire novels. “I mean, sure you can talk to him,” Julio says. “I’m not, like, his keeper … We’re having a Buffy marathon, or whatever.” He steps back. “Do you want to come in?” 

Jubilee fidgets with her sunglasses. “Um,” she says, ducking her head. “Um. Gonna need you to invite me in, Ric.” 

Oh. Oh , shit. 

She needs to be invited in. Because, just like ’Star— she’s a vampire now. 

Julio’s just standing there stunned when Monet, who’s apparently been listening the whole time, shoves past him and ’Star. “Get in here,” she tells Jubilee, and once the fledgling vampire crosses the threshold Monet has her arms around her in an embrace. Jubilee’s hands come up and clutch at Monet’s shoulders, and suddenly Julio feels like he’s intruding on something. 

Jubilee tells them the whole scary story— the explosion of vampire blood in San Francisco, the battle between the X-Men and Xarus’s forces. Cyclops arranging for Wolverine to get turned, as a strategic move. It’s weirdly reassuring to know that no matter how fucked up Julio and ’Star’s relationship is, whatever the hell Scott and Logan have going on is weirder. 

“Jubes,” Monet says. “It’s… you’re still you. Being a vampire doesn’t make you evil.” She cuts her eyes toward Shatterstar and then looks back at Jubilee. “Based on my personal experience, it just makes you annoying.” 

“And you already think that about me,” Jubilee points out. 

“Exactly.” 

Julio leans in the entryway of the kitchen and watches the three of them talking. And as he watches, he realizes that that selfish side of himself is back. Jubilee was depowered, like him. She was powerless. 

And now she isn’t. Now she’s superhuman, just like ’Star. Who needs fireworks when you can vamp out? She’s been transformed against her will, made into a vampire, and somehow Julio is still the odd one out. 

That night, Julio rolls so he’s half-sprawled across Shatterstar’s chest and pushes himself upward to kiss him on the mouth. “Make me like you,” he says. 

“You already like me,” Shatterstar says. “I will not have to try hard.” 

“No,” Julio says, almost giggling. He’s been drinking kind of a lot, tonight, and that plus sex with ’Star makes him feel giddy and dopey. “I mean… I mean, make me a vampire. Like you.” He runs his tongue over his own teeth, imagining fangs there. “Bite me and… and…” What is it that has to happen? A blood exchange. Tit for tat. Shatterstar drinks from him and he drinks from Shatterstar and then… and then he won’t be powerless anymore. He’ll be fast and strong. Sleep all day, party all night, never grow old, live forever . He won’t be useless anymore. 

“No,” Shatterstar says. He looks stricken. “I could never take the sun from you, Julio.” His voice is impossibly soft. 

The only celestial body Julio cares about has already disowned him, kicked him out like he wasn’t clean enough for Her anymore. What does the sun matter to him? “I’ve already lost everything else.” 

“Not me,” Shatterstar says. “Nor this.” He places a hand over Julio’s heart, finding the frantic thumping beneath his fingertips. “Never this, please.” 

So Julio doesn’t join the super exclusive vampire club that Shatterstar and Jubilee belong to. And, surprise, he’s also not the father of Rahne’s mystical baby. That would be Hrimhari, the Norse wolf god. Rictor’s got no powers, no fangs and now, no child. And his vampire boyfriend won’t even drink his blood. 

It’s Shatterstar’s lunchtime, and he’s up in their bedroom chowing down on another one of Jamie’s dupes. Just basic biology. He needs to eat. Julio wants him to eat. It’s a perfectly fine solution. 

He sits downstairs and grinds his teeth and backs up the hard drive on his computer, and then he runs a check for updates, too, and then he can’t think of anything else to do and Shatterstar is still upstairs draining one of the Jamies dry. Putting his lips on Madrox’s neck. Maybe moaning a little as he drinks… The image is enough to make Julio want to pull his hair out. 

The main, most irritating Jamie strides into the monitor room. “Doing alright, Ric?” 

“Peachy,” he says.

“We should get a magazine to do a story about Shatterstar,” Jamie muses. “He’s a great diversity hire for the agency, you know? Bisexual vampire?”

“You need to plug a diversity hire, go for Guido,” Julio says, kicking back in his rolly chair. “He’s Italian.” 

“Good point.” 

“Yeah.” Julio stands up abruptly and brushes past Jamie, because he’s so not in the mood for this. He stomps upstairs, ready to march into his own damn bedroom and take a nap, or jerk off, or maybe just give ’Star permission to do stuff to him while he’s asleep and then take a nap. Shatterstar’s got to be done by now, surely. 

He’s not done. 

Julio opens the bedroom door, sees ’Star latched onto the dupe’s neck and loses it. 

Fuck this , he thinks, bordering on manic. If anyone should be getting sucked by his boyfriend, it should be him . 

His hands fasten on the back of the dupe’s sweater and he pulls him back, tossing him out of the way. He doesn't even look to see where the Jamie landed, just throws himself and his bare neck at ’Star. 

The dupe slinks off to go get reabsorbed or maybe get someone else knocked up, Julio doesn't really care. He feels Shatterstar’s fangs sink into his neck and the sensation goes straight to his cock. The flash of pain and then the numbness, the rush of exhilaration as Shatterstar feeds on him. Fuck, he missed this. 

And then all at once Shatterstar pulls back, spitting out a mouthful of blood. His face is almost funny; he looks the same way he did the time that Tabby made him try Surge. “Why do you taste like that?”

Julio’s heart drops. “Like what?”

“Empty,” he says. “Like… sand. Flavorless.”

His pulse pounds in his ears. ’Star doesn't even seem to notice, isn't staring at the pulse point on his throat, isn't tracing his movements like a hungry predator. Julio aches for it. “’Star,” he says, his voice too high. “Have you ever actually fed on a baseline human before?”

“The blood bags Guthrie was sending me tasted like this, at first,” Shatterstar says. “But I think I got used to the taste. They were not so bad, after awhile.” 

Bad. His blood tastes bad . 

He’s abruptly embarrassed. And ’Star is angry. 

“Julio. You should not have interrupted my feeding.”

“Jesus, yeah, I get it,” he sighs, stepping around Shatterstar, pressing a hand against his bleeding neck. 

“I do not wish to hurt you. I do not want to feed on you anymore,” Shatterstar berates him. “I was clear . I’m afraid I will go too far.”

“Well, apparently it's a moot point since I don’t taste good anymore.”

Shatterstar watches him for a moment, thinking. That’s his strategic face. It’s a face that makes Julio wonder if he should be worried. 

And then all of a sudden Shatterstar is on his knees, nimble fingers picking open the button of Julio’s jeans and pressing him back against the edge of the bed. He moves with vampiric speed and the same effortless grace he’s always had. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, voice nearly a growl.

Julio shakes his head rapidly. “Uh-uh.” 

’Star nods. “Good.” He peels down Julio’s boxer-briefs and takes him out, licks at the tip of his cock in a way that has Julio making embarrassing noises, and then he keeps pushing Julio’s underwear and jeans all the way down, tapping his ankle at one point to get him to step out of them. 

“Dude, it’s fine,” Julio gasps, desperately needing that attention back on his body and off of his clothes. 

Shatterstar clicks his tongue. “I want to see you.” 

Well, he’s not gonna argue with that. Julio steps out of his bottoms and kicks the pile under the bed. He’s expecting Shatterstar to go back to his cock then, but now apparently he needs the shirt off, too. Which is. It’s— 

Sometimes Julio envies the fact that Shatterstar can’t see himself in the mirror anymore. 

In the days between M-Day and Ledge Day, he’d tossed a quilt over the mirror in his bathroom because he couldn’t stand to see the pathetic empty shell staring back at him. And still, now, he gets so angry at the asshole on the other side of the glass that shaving is a nightmare. He doesn’t want to see the scars on his wrists or the marks the Right’s machine left on him. He doesn’t want to see the way the muscles he had at nineteen have dwindled away to a whole lot of nothing. He doesn’t want to see how pitiful he’s become.

But ’Star is asking. 

So Julio shucks off his shirt and tosses it behind him on the bed, leaving himself completely naked while ’Star is still fully clothed which, yeah, okay. He can get behind a little power play. Shatterstar’s eyes rove across his body, delighted and enraptured and— and hungry . 

Shatterstar stands up to kiss him, biting at his lip in a way that makes Julio whine, and then he traces his lips down Julio’s neck, pressing more kisses there, pressing his lips against the old scar where he used to bite into his throat. He maps out Julio’s neck and chest with his lips, trailing goosebumps and catching a nipple on the way down to his stomach, his navel. ’Star bites his pubes and tugs because he’s a fucking weirdo, and then before Julio can recover from whatever the hell that was, ’Star is sucking his cock. 

How have they not fucking done this yet?

They’ve gone the other way around, which Julio does love because ’Star likes to pull his hair and babble about how beautiful and strong Julio is, but somehow in their recent sexploration ’Star has never gone down on him. Until now. And it’s—

Breathtaking.

Literally, his breath stutters in his chest as Shatterstar bobs up and down, hollowing out his cheeks so he can suck. His mouth is so warm and his hands are firm, braced on Julio’s hips as he goes down as far as he can and comes back up, popping swollen lips off the head of Julio’s cock and then looking up, making searing eye contact as he licks the tip and then licks his upper lip. He lifts a hand from Julio’s hip to stroke him up and down. He says, “You are so precious to me.” 

“Shit, ’Star,” Julio breathes, bracing himself back against the bed as Shatterstar goes back down. He grips the sheets when Shatterstar starts to hum around his cock, the vibrations pushing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Julio’s never been this turned on in his life , but he’s also kind of dreading his impending orgasm. He’s lucky he showered today and he keeps his dick clean, but he’s not— he doesn’t know if— Tabby told him once that she read in a magazine that eating pineapple makes your cum taste better, and he’s really regretting not ordering the teriyaki burger at lunch earlier today because it came with a slice of pineapple and if he’s going to be finishing in ’Star’s mouth then he really, really wishes he’d had the foresight to eat some pineapple. 

He keeps thinking about ’Star earlier, spitting out his blood because it tasted bad. Thinks about ’Star throwing up that first hamburger because he couldn’t tolerate normal food anymore. 

’Star pulls off of his cock for long enough to say, “ Relájate ,” because apparently Julio is not subtle at all . And then he goes right back to sucking Julio’s soul out of his dick. Holy shit, of course the motherfucker would be good at this. 

When he gets too close, Julio reaches out and tugs at what hair ’Star has left, hand cupping the back of his head. “’Star,” he mumbles, trying to keep his hips from jerking forward. “’Star, ’m gonna—”

Shatterstar licks a stripe up the underside of his cock and holds him at the base, still kneeling before him. “Please,” he says, “allow me the privilege of tasting you.” 

And even as scared as he is that ’Star’s gonna react the same way he did when he spat out Ric’s blood, he can’t help but indulge the request. With a hand still on ’Star’s hair, he guides him back down and lets him finish the job.

And when he finishes, ’Star’s eyes flutter and roll up like swallowing is the most pleasurable experience of his life. He pulls off, open-mouth panting, and uses a fingertip to collect a stray drop so he can suck it into his mouth. He lets out an exaggerated Mmm noise that goes right to Julio’s ego. 

“Exquisite,” he declares. 

What the fuck do you say to that? Julio goes limp against the bed, not trusting his knees to hold him if he tries to stand up. “Yeah, you liked that?” 

“I wish I could spend 24 hours a day with your penis in my mouth,” he says. “However, that would not be feasible.”

Julio snorts a laugh and then reaches out blindly, grabbing for Shatterstar’s hands, his wrists, tugging him closer. “Get over here,” he says, pulling his vampire boyfriend down on top of himself so they can kiss. 

Life goes on as usual— which is to say, in a hectic and unusual manner. Shatterstar takes to slathering himself in several layers of sunscreen so he can hang out on the roof with Monet and try to beat her at chess. (He loses. Often. Almost always. Apparently, his creature-of-the-night charms don’t include being a master strategist.) 

Longshot takes to pestering ’Star with questions about his vampirism and how he got that way, and Julio can see the way Shatterstar clams up and deflects. It’s the same way he’s been deflecting questions about his connection to the other Mojoworlder on the team. 

“Longshot’s been on the team a good while now,” Julio points out one night while they’re wrapped up together in bed, his lips tucked close to ’Star’s neck like a funny little role reversal. “He’s chill with Rahne being a werewolf and Layla being… whatever the fuck is wrong with Layla.” 

“Mm,” ’Star says, staring out the window at the sliver of moonlight lancing through. “I have been speaking with Theresa about Irish folklore.” 

Okay. Non-sequitur, but honestly not even one of ’Star’s weirdest conversational leaps. Julio opts to go with it. “Yeah?” 

“After she called me Abhartach , I was curious,” he admits, fingers coming up to fiddle with Julio’s hair. He imagines that ’Star misses being able to fidget with his own long braids. Something else the bite took from him, something Cortex took from him. “I have found many videos online detailing Irish lore. I have spoken to Theresa. She had some interesting insights… for example, did you know that the manifestation of Madrox’s mutant powers doesn’t exactly mesh with most mutant children and sounds more similar to that of a changeling?”

Julio frowns. “Like… a fairy?” 

“Yes, only not gay slang,” Shatterstar says. Julio muffles a laugh against his neck. “A changeling is a human-like— but not human— creature that replaces an abducted child.” 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure changeling myths are mostly just because they didn’t have words for autism or Down’s syndrome in ye olden times.” 

“Hmf,” Shatterstar says. “Nevertheless. It bears thinking about. Vampires are… transformed beings. Changelings of a sort. You went to Mexico with a young man at your side, and that man is now gone forever.” 

A chill rolls over Julio’s whole body and he coils closer to ’Star. “Don’t be dumb. He’s right here.” 

He feels ’Star’s fingers winding and winding around his hair, distress obvious when he yanks harder than he means to. Julio just lets him. His hair’s not exactly a point of pride, these days. Hair-pulling, in the right context, can be kind of a turn-on. This is different. This is just comfort. “I am not what I was, Julio,” he says, voice cracking around the words. 

“I know. But you’re still you. You’re still ’Star.” 

“That movie you showed me,” Shatterstar says. “ The Lost Boys . Do you think— if they had not killed the head vampire, and Michael’s transformation had been completed— do you think his mother Lucy would still have loved him as a son? Even after he was changed?” 

Julio isn’t scared of vampires. Not really. All they can do is kill him or change him. Same shit he can do to himself. But the way ’Star is talking right now— that scares him. He’s not making sense— even less than he usually does. “Dude,” he mumbles, stroking a hand up and down his side, the soft material of an old band shirt he stole from Julio. “What are you talking about?” 

Shatterstar lets out a long sigh. Like a balloon deflating, or a coffin creaking open. “I don’t know,” he says. “I am just thinking out loud.” 

Guido gets killed, and then he gets better. 

Julio comes downstairs one day to see Shatterstar interrogating him. “Can you feel it?” he asks, head tipped to the side. “The place where your life left your body, and then returned?” 

“Jeezus, Twilight, like I haven’t had enough of the friggin’ third degree,” Guido grumbles. 

As freaked as he is by the whole development, Julio is kind of savagely pleased. Let Shatterstar ask Guido inappropriate, painful questions. The two of them have had plenty of that from him. 

Shit gets weirder. 

Rahne takes off for Sunday mass, and Shatterstar decides to tag along. He can’t actually set foot on the church grounds, but he gets as close as he can and then entertains himself dancin’ and singin’ in the rain until Rahne comes flying out of the church screaming about demons. And then they fight off the Sin-Eater just in time for the ghost of Maria Callasantos to show up. 

By the time Rahne and ’Star make it back to home base, Layla’s salted every entryway and everyone is on edge. There’s a cù-sìth nipping at their heels when they run into X-Factor HQ. And while Ric tries to determine whether ’Star is okay, ’Star only has eyes for Rahne. “The child,” he babbles, batting away the cold compress Julio presses to his brow. “Is the child okay?”

“What?” Julio snaps. “Rahne’s fine. The baby’s fine.” He glances over at the doorway to see Rahne illuminated from behind, a pregnant silhouette hovering at the edge of the room. “Are you okay, ’Star?” 

Shatterstar trembles against the bed, half-delirious. “It does not matter.” 

“’Course it matters , ’Star,” Julio says, rubbing at his arms like he can pump unwilling blood through dead flesh. “You got slammed headfirst into the pavement. And I care about you. I want to know you’re okay.” 

He shakes his head. “All that matters is the child.” 

“Wha— ? Rahne, tell him he’s—” Julio whirls around, but Rahne is gone. “Son of a…” He goes to keep tending to Shatterstar, but ’Star bats away his hands and pushes himself up on wobbly legs to look out the window. “I need to be out there.” 

“Like hell you do,” Julio says. “There’s demon dogs and goblins and who-the-hell knows what else. You ever fought goblins, ’Star? They suck!” 

“Feral said it would take another monster to fight these assailants,” Shatterstar says. “I believe I fit the bill.” 

For just a second, Julio is back with the gun in his hand, firing at O*N*E agents with Terry going into labor behind him. Dying for a cause, because nobody can get mad at you when you’re dying for a good cause. He shakes his head. This is different. Rahne’s in danger. And… and what ’Star is saying does actually make sense. There’s a logic to it. But…

“When’s the last time you fed?” he asks hoarsely. “Rahne said Bastet knocked you on your ass, you… you can’t take on those guys out there like this.” 

He watches the muscles in ’Star’s back tensing as he watches the wolves gather at their door. It’s a shitty goddamn situation, and there’s a petty, cruel part of Julio that’s still angry at Rahne for trying to win back his wavery attempt at heterosexuality by lying about her baby daddy situation. Maybe if she’d come to X-Factor sooner, they could have avoided this, or prepared for it, or… something. 

Finally, Shatterstar turns around, eyes glinting. Weak. Hungry. Not starving, but not a hundred percent. And if he’s gonna have a chance against the fucking Monster Mash outside, he needs strength. He needs blood . “Julio,” he says. “I… I cannot ask this of you…” 

“Take it,” Julio whispers, sticking his wrist out. Whatever ’Star needs. “Take it and go be a hero.”

Shatterstar takes his hand and presses a kiss to it like a true gentleman before he sinks his fangs in, twin pinpricks of sharp pain. And then he begins to drink.

Chapter Text

The drive to Oneonta would have been awkward and stressful even if their chauffeur weren’t a guy who calls himself Werewolf-by-Night.

But Julio’s resolved. There’s a point at which it doesn’t matter who Rahne is— friend, teammate, ex-lover. Rictor likes to think he’d be involved in this fight no matter what. 

Mothers deserve to raise their babies. 

Shatterstar is exhausted from his fight outside their home base, and he rests sprawled across Julio’s lap in the backseat. The scrapes and scratches he sustained are healing up alright, but he looks wrung out, and he either bruised or broke a couple of ribs. At one point Julio tries to press his wrist against Shatterstar’s mouth, but he growls and smacks it away, shaking his head and pressing his lips very close together. 

Jack Russell fills them all in as they speed away. As a supernatural creature, apparently ’Star is drawn to Rahne and her super-special prophecy baby. So’s Werewolf-by-Night. So’s Bastet and the Irish dogs and a whole other bunch of crap. The baby is coming, and every scary story that ever was is coming after it. 

“I’m sorry,” Rahne mumbles, meeting Ric’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m so sorry. I brought this down on all of us.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” he snaps, twisting the short pieces of ’Star’s hair between his fingertips. “I’m glad you came home, alright? I can’t imagine Logan’s X-Force dealing with all this bullshit.”

“Ric… Julio, I shouldn’t’ve lied to ye…”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” he says, reaching his free hand out to grip her shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I’m letting you and the kid burn, alright? I’m here. I’ve got your back.” He swallows, thinking about Asgard, Genosha, her first ultrasound. “Always.” 

Jack drives them to what he calls a safehouse, but it looks kind of like the sort of creepy cabin where teenagers in horror movies fuck and then die. Julio hauls Shatterstar to his feet and helps him inside while Jack gets the door for Rahne. 

No monsters have caught up with them so far, and Julio’s feeling pretty confident about their chances. That confidence lasts him right up until he sees a roach scuttle out from under the trash can and he leaps into Shatterstar’s arms with an undignified yelp.

“I will protect you,” Shatterstar says solemnly, setting him down and going to hunt the little beast.

“Don’t eat it,” Julio says. “I wanna kiss that mouth later.” He glances up to see Rahne watching him with a disgusted expression. “Look, you're giving birth to the antichrist, now is not the time to get homophobic.”

“No… I just… you want to kiss the cockroach?” she says. 

“NOT THE— No, Rahney, I want to kiss the vampire.”

“Oh! O’course.” 

Jack starts boiling water for tea because that’s, apparently, something a Werewolf-by-Night would do. Julio gets Rahne settled on a dusty couch and starts hunting down every blanket in the house for lack of anything better to do. When Rahne lets out a gasp and reveals that she thinks, maybe, possibly, she’s going into labor, he’s not even all that surprised. With a wolf-god pregnancy, it’s hard to nail down an exact due date. 

But it makes sense that Baby Sinclair would arrive at the most inconvenient time imaginable. 

He feels like he should know more about this. Unfortunately, the gestation period for wolf-god-mutant-hybrids doesn’t allow enough time for Lamaze class. (And if it had, would he have even gone? … Of course.) Julio panics and starts doing shit he’s seen on TV. He wets a washcloth with cool water, and he fills up a plastic cup with ice chips. 

Rahne seems to appreciate both. 

When the nightmare brigade does finally track them down, Jack and ’Star both notice at the same time. Their heads jerk up, like hunting dogs. “They’re here,” Jack snarls. “They want the child.” 

Shatterstar draws his swords and bares his fangs, and Julio grabs at his sleeve. “No, c’mon, ’Star, you’re not recovered from before.” 

His eyes bore into Julio. “Then come with me.”

“What am I s’posed to do?” Julio says. 

Shatterstar looks at him. “Did you bring your gun?” 

Something in Julio’s gut twinges. And he feels guilty for letting Shatterstar drink from him earlier tonight. Feels guilty for enjoying it. Maybe he can go out there and fight off the forces of evil with a gun. Get his Supernatural on. 

Or.

Or maybe he’s already where he needs to be. 

“Go. Fight. Win,” he tells ’Star, pulling him down for a kiss. “I’ll stay with Rahney.” 

Shatterstar nods, and then he looks at Jack, who shakes his head like a dog shaking water from its ears. Then, he grows and shifts, fur sprouting from his skin, teeth sharpening into fangs. He certainly does look more like a Hollywood monster movie than Rahne ever has. Then, werewolf and vampire vanish into the night to fend off the forces of evil. Ric presses his damp washcloth to Rahne’s forehead. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says, which probably isn’t true but, hey, this is what he and Rahne do. They lie to each other. 

“Mm,” she grunts non-committally, shifting uncomfortably against the couch. 

“Should we, like, lay you down?” Julio wonders aloud, feeling woefully out of his depth. “Or like—”

“Ric,” she says, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him close. Her eyes are wide and scared. “D’you think we’re born evil?” 

“What? No,” he says immediately. Is this really the time for philosophical debate? 

“I just… I keep thinkin’,” she says, flushed as she leans back against the couch cushions. “Last couple o’ days, really… and especially now, since… all those people, at the church. Dead. And now, the forces of Hell after me, and I just keep thinkin’... all the stuff Reverend Craig told me. Ric, do ye think we’re ever forgiven?”

He swallows. “You’re not a monster,” he says. “And neither is your kid.”

“Reverend Craig raised me,” she goes on. “He’s— he was — my father. Whatever was in him is in me too, and… and it’ll be in the baby… So I figure either I’m a religious zealot taking my hurt out on other people, or I’m an animal driven on instinct alone and hurting other people , people like Angel, and I just… I always thought I’d have to choose but apparently I’ve managed to be both kinds of evil.”

Rictor chews on the inside of his mouth. “Don’t talk about my friend like that.”

As she talks, as she gets more and more upset, she gets the hiccups. “Ric, you don’t need to try and— hic — make me feel better, because I know in the heap of bad I’ve done there’s the bad I’ve done to— hic — you. With the… gay stuff, the Shatterstar stuff, the vampire stuff… I’ve not been— hic — fair to you.” 

“Water under the bridge,” he says, because it is mostly fine and also that’s just what you say to women in labor. He thinks. 

“My baby,” she says, lower lip trembling. “It doesn’t deserve to suffer for all the wrong I’ve done.” 

“Look, I know a thing or two about inheriting your parents’ sins, okay?” Julio says. “Your kid’s gonna be fine.” 

“And— hic — powerful, apparently,” she says, looking down at her swollen stomach. “Based on what all those nasty beasties are sayin’.” 

“Yep,” Julio says. “Little baby antichrist.” 

“Ach, don’t joke like— hic — that.” 

“Jesus’s second coming?” 

“Oh, we already had that I— hic — think,” Rahne points out. “Hope Summers.” 

“Right.” 

“Julio,” she says, and then she hiccups again but it turns into a cough, and then she’s gagging, bent over the edge of the couch and hacking like she can’t get enough air. Her hair’s not that long but Julio goes to hold it back anyway, only instead of hair, suddenly there’s fur. He smooths a hand between her ears, trying to provide whatever comfort he can as she retches and retches and— 

Oh.

Oh, Christ. 

She’s not throwing up.

She’s giving birth. 

Rahne’s wolfpup is born at 1:43 in the morning. Not in the usual way. Rahne coughs him up like a hairball, and then Ric’s scrambling to hang onto this scrawny, screaming dog-baby that his ex just vomited out. Rahne looks fucking horrified, but Julio holds onto what he told her, and he holds onto the kid. 

“Shh, hey, I got ya,” he mumbles to the pup. Shatterstar and Jack traipse back in a little later, drenched in blood but alive. Jack says something about Hela. Julio’s not really processing anything beyond the puppy-child in his arms. Shatterstar looks stunned, stumbling forward and falling to his knees in front of the couch. 

“Rahne,” he says, and Julio suddenly remembers that the guards who subjugated Shatterstar for most of his life, as well as the Imperial Protectorate— they were dog-based in appearance. Sheep dogs to herd the biped slaves. Shatterstar’s eyes are fixed on the baby in Ric’s arms. “He’s beautiful.” 

Rahne still looks shell-shocked. But she reaches a hand out and tangles her fingers with Shatterstar’s. “Is he?” she says. Like she’s scared to look.

“You both are,” Shatterstar says, and then his eyes dart to Julio. “You all are.” 

Rahne’s… not doing well. Julio manages to pull her aside while Shatterstar and Jack are tending to the baby, and she keeps mumbling something about punishment. “Rahney,” he says, tugging her into the bedroom and shutting the door. “Hey, you with me?” 

“I’m being punished,” she says, and fuck, she looks so young. She could be that girl he went to Asgard with. “This is a punishment. It’s…” Her hand comes up to ghost over her lips, and she lets out a low moan. “It’s like with Theresa. I’m not a mother , that’s not a child , it’s an abomination… it’s a trick, it’s a punishment—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Julio stutters, several sentences too late to stop her from saying something she’ll regret. At least he got her out of the room. Not that Werepup Sinclair would understand, probably, but he doesn’t want ’Star hearing that shit. “Look, everything’s fucked, right? You’re exhausted. But that’s… that is your baby out there, alright?”

She looks like she’s sleepwalking. Holy shit, he can’t do this. She’s always talking him off ledges and he’s always talking her down from the cross. Something he said must have clicked, because her expression changes. But he’s not sure that it’s for the better. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe… maybe this isn’t punishment,” Rahne says, eyes red-rimmed and panicked and manic. “Ric, maybe I can be saved.”

“What?” 

“It’s— he’s— all the terrible things I’ve done,” Rahne rambles. “Angel’s wings, and the— the blood, all the blood, and my father and Josh and you , Ric, I’ve been so awful to you and I know it isn’t right, I can see that now, you are the way you were born and made to be and it is nae a sin , I know that, but I’ve been so… Ric, I love you, and I hurt you, and that’s true for a lot— a lot — of people, and I’ve hurt people I don’t love too, people I don’t know, I’ve been… I’ve been monstrous and now… now I’m free. Don’t ye get it? I’ve been purged.” 

Julio’s already-frayed nerves are getting more and more threadbare. He’s listened to a lot of Rahne’s religious tirades but it’s been a minute. And he knows— knows more than ever now— that the sermons always come from a place of genuine care. That this is the way Rahne Sinclair cares— jagged and preachy and fearful. 

“What do you mean?” he says in a harsh whisper. “Rahne, what do you mean purged ?” 

“The child… he isn’t a child at all , Ric, he’s just… he’s all the bad that was in me. My sins. That’s— that’s why he looks like that.” 

“He looks like a fucking mutant, Rahne,” Julio says desperately, thinking suddenly of Artie and Leech. Where the hell are those kids these days, anyway? He hopes they’re okay. “Look, I know that was a traumatic as hell birth— it was traumatic for me and I was just a spectator— but that’s your kid in there. He’s not a metaphor. He’s not a sin.” 

“No, no, it’s a good thing,” she insists, eyes shining with frantic tears. “I can be saved. I can be forgiven.” 

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Julio snaps, hands gripping her arms too tightly. “You don’t need God to forgive you, alright? I fucking forgive you. You lied to me to try and drag me back into the closet. You screamed into a goddamn megaphone that I was going to hell. Guess what? I forgive you , Sinclair. You want me to forgive you for whatever wetworks shit you did with Logan and them? I forgive that, too. We’ve all got shit. You know how many people Shatterstar has killed? ’Cause I don’t! But I’d never hold it against him, right? We’ve all got shit.” 

Rahne won’t meet his eyes. She’s staring down at her own hands, blinking hard. “I could feel him coming up my throat,” she whispers, face screwed up in horror as the tears roll down her cheeks. “Why— why did I have to feel that? Why does he look like that ?”

“Because you fucked a wolf god, Rahne,” Julio sighs. “A deadbeat wolf god, too. I’m not even the real dad and I fucking showed up.” 

“You did.” She scrubs at her face, wipes the tears away, looking at him with a strained expression. “You always show up.”

“Well. You know. So do you.” 

She makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh or maybe a sob. “We’re really messed up, huh?” 

Julio leans past her to nudge the door open, letting them see a sliver of the main room. Shatterstar is dozing on the couch, with the baby curled up in his lap, fast asleep. Beside them, Jack sits watch, smiling softly at the child. “I think,” Julio says, “we’ll be alright.” 

So they go home.

Jack Russell seems determined to usurp Julio’s role as the cool uncle. Julio would be more annoyed about it, except he thinks Rahne and her baby— Tier, she’s calling him— need all the people looking out for them that they can get. Rahne’s still really shaken, but she ends up finding a sympathetic ear in Terry. As it turns out, traumatic birth takes many forms. Julio doesn’t hear her saying anything more about her kid being a punishment or a purging, so he takes the win. 

And then before any of the dust can settle, the Avengers are summoning them. 

Wanda Maximoff is summoning them. 

Julio wants whatever it is she thinks she can give him. He was already desperate enough once to trust Pietro. He wouldn’t think twice about this— if it weren’t for Shatterstar, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes. “I want my powers back,” he says, hating how his voice breaks when he speaks, and Shatterstar whirls on him, a hand coming up to rest feather-light against his cheek. 

“What about everything else in your life?” he says. “Are you willing to lose that, too?” 

He hates it— this position that Wanda’s put him in. Made it seem like a choice between his connection to the Earth and his connection to ’Star. It’s not — it’s never been an either-or situation, but it’s the risk-taking behaviors coupled up with suicidal tendencies definitely aren’t helping his case. 

It isn’t just about being powerful or his fear of being a liability. 

He misses Her. Feet planted firm on the ground and he can’t even feel it. It’s something separate and distinct from the depression he’s grown familiar with. He needs this. Needs it, maybe, more than ’Star needs him, and it’s a weird kind of math to weigh need against need like that. 

Wanda asks him one more time if he’s sure, and he bites out, “Just do it.” Silently praying that if she kills him and Shatterstar kills her in return, the X-Men won’t be too hard on him. The witch puts a hand on either side of his head. Her lips move, and he screams — something piercing through him, like tree roots growing through concrete, nature reclaiming the land that’s been strip-mined and deforested. 

And he lets out a breath that he’s been holding for a very long time. 

Rictor can’t stop touching everything, after. The ground, mostly, crouching down and placing his hands on the ground to feel the shifting and moving and humming beneath his fingertips. He touches lampposts and sides of buildings on the way back home, feeling the way that everything is in communication with each other. Jamie points out that he’s acting like he dropped acid, and Julio’s too happy to even come up with a retort. 

Shatterstar kisses him, and it’s like he’s finally awake to kiss back. It’s like you never realize how tired you are until you finally aren’t tired anymore, and the energy racing through him is electric. He surges up against ’Star, nipping at his bottom lip. “Bedroom,” Shatterstar says. 

“Yeah, okay.” Not gonna argue with that. He lets ’Star take his hand and pull him upstairs, until they’re behind closed doors and the ground is two stories below but he can still feel it, the skin of the planet and everything underneath it. He can feel all of it. He can feel when ’Star kisses him on the mouth and then moves to his jaw, to the soft spot beneath his ear, and lower, down his neck, cold lips and warm breath. 

“Julio,” he says. “You have your powers back.”

“Yeah.”

“You can stop me if I go too far.” 

Oh, shit. “Yeah,” Julio says. He swallows. 

Shatterstar pulls back, his mismatched eyes meeting Julio’s. “I think I trust myself more than I used to,” he says. “And I trust you.” 

“Okay,” Julio says. “I mean, yeah, I trust us both, too.” 

“I am going to bite you now.”

“Go for it, dude.” 

’Star leans forward and kisses his neck, soft at first, and then sucking a little, like he’s trying to give him a hickey and then , Julio gasps when he feels the bite, sharp teeth sinking into the side of his neck like a fork through butter and he presses up into it, into the pain, into the comfort. He lets out a reflexive rumble and it rattles the room, and just being able to do that feels so good that he does it again. 

He’s not much of an exhibitionist but ’Star definitely is, and Julio can feel him smiling against his neck at the realization that the whole team definitely knows what they’re up to now. Shatterstar drinks, and Julio lets himself sink into his arms, into the strong hands on his waist, hyperaware of his own blood and the Earth and ’Star. 

He knows he tastes good again because Shatterstar moans , the vibrations against his throat feel amazing, and he’s woozy and hot and infatuated and he can feel everything— the vibrations, the thud of his own heartbeat, the fault lines spiderwebbing through the ground just like the veins in his neck, energy and blood and connection all flowing together. Christ, he hasn’t been himself in so long . 

It feels like the first time Shatterstar drank from him. It feels like that, and not like that, because he doesn’t have to hold anything back now. He can moan, he can fist his hands in the fabric of ’Star’s shirt, he can take ’Star’s hand and move it lower, move it to right where he wants it and rut into it, feeling all the blood in his body get confused about where to go. He’s allowed this now, doesn’t have to choose between ’Star fucking him or feeding on him, doesn’t have to choose between his powers or his lover. He gets everything he wants. He wins. 

After he’s had his fill, Shatterstar grabs Julio’s hand imperiously and presses it against the bite, making him hold it there. He’s gentle when he lays Julio down on the bed, and he’s gentle when he strips off Julio’s jeans. He uses his teeth to peel off Julio’s boxer-briefs and somehow even that is so fucking gentle. 

“Julio.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you hand me the lubricant?” 

Julio rests back on his hands, feeling a little dizzy and loopy in the best way. “You didn’t say please.” Shatterstar just raises an eyebrow, and the giddiness and relief and joy bubble up out of Julio in delighted laughter. He’s still laughing when he pulls the lube out from the nightstand drawer and passes it over. On his back, legs up so he can watch ’Star working him open, so he can see the look on ’Star’s face when he slides in. 

The sensation of getting fucked, getting drained and then getting filled up— he doesn’t exactly have words for it, but he moans, encourages ’Star, letting his emotions spill out into the room in waves. The mattress is thrumming and the lamp is buzzing and the poster frames on the wall are clattering, and he can feel it all in his hands and the soles of his feet and in his chest and in the place where ’Star is rutting up into him. He’s himself again. 

It’s the first time he’s ever gotten to have this— to have sex as himself, restored, alive . At the realization, he reaches up to sloppily tangle his hand with one of Shatterstar’s. 

The giggles come back when Shatterstar eventually points out, “As a vampire, I will need permission to come inside.” And he’s got that adorable little smirk on his face when he intentionally says something funny, and Ric laughs into his hand until Shatterstar grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away. “ No te ascondas… quiero ver a tu cara .” 

Julio pulls his hand away to indulge him. And he doesn’t say I love you but for the first time he manages to think it without flinching away from the thought. 

Chapter Text

Bloodbath— aka “B.B.”— treats everything like the cameras are watching and he talks when he fights. For a minute, Julio’s kind of worried ’Star’s either going to get triggered by his attitude or be enamored the way he was with X-Treme. Neither of those really happens, he just gets his ass kicked like all the rest of them. 

Well. Not all the rest of them. 

Jamie gets his ass kicked and then he gets fucking murdered, stabbed through the back by his own possessed dupe, and then ’Star gets his hands on the sword that did it and goes swinging for the demon. Bloodbath defends himself scarily well and sends ’Star flying with a hard kick, yammering about something being wrong with Guido. Shatterstar roars back that he doesn’t give a shit, and Rictor and Rahne are right there with him.

Not Monet. 

And Julio really does try not to stick his nose too far into other people’s love lives, given how much he hates when it happens to him, but he knows that if it was ’Star’s soul the demon wanted to talk about, he’d be all ears. Like Monet is now. She really cares for Strong Guy. Go figure. 

Now is definitely the wrong time to tell Monet she could do better. 

Bloodbath puts Layla in the hot seat and then she spills the truth— that she reanimated Guido. That when she brings people back, they come back wrong. Soulless. 

Of course, between that, ’Star’s shit, Layla getting aged up— this is basically just Team Came Back Wrong, now. Julio’s also not a hundred percent sure whether ’Star has a soul, and he didn’t much care for Guido when he had one, so this whole conversation feels a little irrelevant. And then it becomes a conversation about whether Layla should bring back Madrox. 

Terry’s the one egging her on to do it, and Julio tries to take that as confirmation that she feels bad for how she treated ’Star when he first joined the team. Growth, not hypocrisy. 

Before they can vote yea or nay on Soulless Jamie, Bloodbath is swinging at them again, talking trash as he does. “I’ll suck your souls dry!” he bellows, doing Shatterstar’s signature move of stabbing himself through the stomach to jab at Rahne, who jumps away just in time. 

And then Hangman saves them all by looping his noose around Bloodbath. Hauls him up like a punching bag, the perfect height for Shatterstar to leap at him with his own swords. “Only one man gets to suck me dry,” he says, and then he cuts off Bloodbath’s head. 

Which would’ve been incredibly hot— both the decapitation and the declaration of monogamy— except that Julio can’t even enjoy it because the demon jumps into Madrox’s body. And then Layla does an exorcism. 

It works.

But Jamie doesn’t wake up. 

Between Layla lying, Guido being soulless and Jamie being fucking dead, Ric’s “cut and run” instincts are flaring like crazy by the time they finally make it back home. He pulls ’Star into bed and just holds him, the two of them wrapped up together under the duvet, not kissing or talking or much of anything. Just existing together, alive and tired. 

Julio does eventually grab a beer out of the fridge and venture up to the roof for some fresh air, where he finds Monet standing and staring at the city. She looks badass like that, something he’s never been able to achieve when standing menacingly on a rooftop. All he gets when he does that is pleas not to jump. 

“Listen,” he says, knowing he hasn’t snuck up on her in the slightest. “Do you… want to talk?”

Monet turns and raises one perfect eyebrow. “To you?”

“Well, yeah,” he scowls, opening his can of beer. “I know a thing or two about having your boyfriend get… transformed.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Okay, then what is he?” Monet makes a sour face and crosses her arms, and Julio sighs. Sips his beer. Says, “How long have we known each other, M? Since we were kids?”

“We did not know each other as kids,” she corrects him. “You came to the Massachusetts Academy once and I was my sisters at the time and anyway, you spent the whole time in the basement smoking weed with Angelo.”

“We weren't smoking weed,” Julio argues, but he doesn't want to tell her that what they were actually doing was playing Magic: The Gathering. “But, okay, fine. Not counting that, we’ve known each other since X-Corp then.”

“Sure.” 

“And I still don’t know if I get you,” Julio goes on. “Not as well as I get Terry and Rahne and even Longshot, I guess.”

“Nothing to get. No deeper layers,” she says. “I’m better than you inside and out, I’m a bitch, I have excellent taste and I’m fine , Rictor.” She scrunches up her face and crosses her arms. “Why do you even care?” 

Why does he? “Maybe because every other team I’ve ever been on has felt like family, or at least friends,” he says. “And this feels like a job. Just a job. And I just… I dunno. I want more.” 

“Okay. Alright. Cool.” She’s nodding in a way that looks like she might be holding back tears, but he can’t even tell if they’re angry tears or frustrated tears or just— maybe she’s sad because Madrox died? Maybe he was stupid to come up here. “Guido got shot because of me . I broke the block on Ballistique’s mind, let her remember who she really was, and then she shot Guido because I made her able to do it. He died because of me.” 

“Monet—”

“And then,” she says, “he comes back, like magic , after telling me he loved me as he was dying , and I just— I didn’t even ever think of him in that way until after he died and came back. And now I find out he came back without a soul , so what does it say about me that I was only attracted to him after he lost his soul, you know?” 

And. Well. That’s… “Shatterstar and I never kissed until after he got turned,” Julio blurts out. “And it was… there was a part of me that used to worry that he only wanted me that way after he was bitten. And maybe because he was bitten. And if I was into him the whole time, without having the, I guess, excuse of being a vampire, then what did that say about me?” 

Monet huffs out a laugh. “Aren’t we a pair.” 

“Mm.” 

She looks at him, and then she looks back out at the city skyline. “First boy I ever loved was trying to connect with me— my powers— when he died,” she says, and Julio’s stomach drops at the revelation. Monet hardly ever talks about her time with Generation X, except for maybe a few snide barbs about Emma Frost or Jubilee. “I felt him get ripped away from me, right at the moment he…” She shakes her head. “And then— when I was trying to fly Guido to the hospital, and she started saying all that stuff… it’s like I was right back there again. Seventeen again and fucking helpless. And Everett came back , did you know that? When Selene did her army of zombies bullshit? Everett was back and empty and it’s like, okay, do I just have a fucking type?” 

“Well, given that Jubilee is a vampire too, maybe, yeah, you’ve got a type,” he says before he can think better of it, and Monet snorts. 

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.” He drains the rest of his beer. “You wanna go make some midnight mimosas and watch Angel ?”

Monet offers him a watery smile. “See, I don’t know what you were worried about earlier,” she says. “You totally get me.”

And then, like things aren’t bad enough, Wolverine shows up at the front door. 

Rahne’s kind of losing it and Julio can’t really blame her. Fortunately, Jack’s hanging around at the time. Rahne tells him to take Tier and take off until she gives him the all-clear. “You wanna go with him?” Julio asks her, watching her and Jack scramble to pack the car. “’Star and I will cover for you.” 

In the backseat, strapped into his carseat, Tier blinks his big wolfy eyes up at Julio and makes grabby hands for his mama. He’s grown so much already, and now he looks a little like Scrappy-Doo, which is a comparison Julio would never make within earshot of Rahne. But he has said it to Shatterstar, who a hundred percent agrees. 

(’Star also followed it up with, That makes you Shaggy. And Ric said that Monet was Daphne and ’Star was one of the Hex Girls, and then they got caught up deciding who was who and forgot they were supposed to be on a stakeout.)

“No, I can face Logan,” Rahne says, squaring her shoulders. “I know what he can put me through. I don’t want to find out what he’ll do if he lays eyes on my son…” She shakes her head. “After all the mess with Hope Summers. Every newborn mutant is a target right now and I won’t have my boy getting tied up in that.” 

Then she leans down and kisses Tier on the forehead and sends Jack Russell on his way. 

As it turns out, Logan doesn’t have much to say to Rahne. He’s there to ask the whole team to agree to be on retainer as he re-establishes a presence in Westchester. And then he opens the door and Alex fucking Summers walks in, with Polaris at his side. And the “cut and run” urge that Julio’s been suppressing spikes once again. 

He didn’t even really wanna be here when Jamie was in charge. But the only thing worse than Terminal Only Child Syndrome Man is Terminal Little Brother Syndrome Man. 

There’s a moment where Ric gets Logan to himself and he asks, “How’s Jubes?” 

Logan sighs, and there’s so much packed into it that Julio regrets asking. “She’s managing,” he says. “Probably not as well as your boy.” He nods gruffly toward ’Star. 

“I have had a longer time to adjust,” Shatterstar says. And that’s true. Trial and error, more time, plus he wasn’t exactly a normal mutant before getting bitten, so— “And I have Julio.” 

Julio whirls and gives him a look, surprised to hear Shatterstar credit him . All he’s done is hang around superfluously and beg ’Star to drink his blood. But it’s not— he’s got to be the least well-adjusted person in the world , there’s no way having him around has actually helped ’Star. But Shatterstar never says things he doesn’t mean. He’s blunt to a fault, and right now he’s saying what he means— how necessary Julio is to him. How much he relies on having Julio at his side. With or without powers. 

Logan smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I was always rooting for you crazy kids.” 

Jamie stays dead for exactly as long as any X-Man stays dead, and Julio can’t even really fault Soulless Guido when he says, “Why does anyone even act surprised anymore when stuff like this happens?” Monet leaps at Layla, accusing her of bringing Jamie back with no soul, and everything gets out of hand very quickly.

As per usual with X-Factor. 

Julio remembers living with the original X-Factor. The scary thing is that this team might actually be more functional. 

Monet flies off with Layla to work their problems out with physical violence while Terry stays on the ground and talks to Jamie with words. And then they all group-hug and things go back to normal. 

Lucky them.

One week later, Longshot gets knocked on his ass by his own psychometry and Shatterstar insists on going with Jamie to investigate. He gets all excited about coming up with a fake superhero look and fake codename— Star Face , which is not super creative but Julio’s not here to step on his process. Jamie picks the fake name Multitask which is actually way better than Multiple Man. 

When they get back from Seattle, Shatterstar won’t say a word. He just grabs the doorbell camera that Alex Summers installed and smashes it beneath his boot, and then he moves into the main office and starts methodically searching the place for bugs or hidden cameras. Julio lets him know that Longshot hasn’t woken up yet, and Shatterstar nods and keeps searching for cameras. 

“What happened?” he asks Jamie when they get a minute alone in the kitchen. 

Madrox shrugs and grabs a couple of beers out of the fridge. “Team of vigilantes playing Power Rangers. Some big guy was picking them off. He got the one Shatterstar was partnered with— Buzzkill— and he almost got ’Star too.”

Julio can’t help it— he snorts. “He didn’t almost get ’Star.” 

“It was nasty,” Jamie says. “We got there right as the guy was getting recalled to Mojoworld.” 

And even though he was expecting it, Julio’s heart still drops. “Mojoworld?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking maybe that’s why trying to get a read on the video camera did a number on Longshot.”

“Shit.” Julio takes the beer from Jamie and rakes his fingers through his hair, panicked on ’Star’s account. “I need to go check on him.” 

He finds ’Star dismantling the alarm clock in their bedroom, looking for hidden listening devices. And he’s not even mad. Fuck waking up early. “Hey,” Julio says, trying to be gentle. “You alright?” 

Shatterstar wrinkles up his nose and makes a face and continues deconstructing the mess of wires and plastic in front of him. “I can defend you should the need arise.” 

“That’s a hundred percent not what I asked.”

Shatterstar turns and looks at him, eyes burning white and yellow. “Despite not being visible in mirrors, vampires do actually show up on digital cameras.” 

Carefully, Julio sits down on the edge of the bed. “Okay.” 

“Mojo is enamored with the X-Men,” Shatterstar goes on. Evidently, he deems the alarm clock clean and discards the mangled remains to inspect the window dressing. “Now that we are in effect working for the X-Men through Wolverine, it makes sense that he would regain an interest in us. In me.” He stands up on the nightstand so he can unscrew the smoke detector from the ceiling, and Julio doesn’t even argue. Sometimes if he gets it out of his system, does all his rituals, it soothes him. 

“Madrox said you fought a guy from the Mojoworld.”

“Yes.” Shatterstar takes the batteries out from the smoke detector and peers at them closely before replacing them. “His name was Scattershot. He talked too much.” 

“I just… you know I’ve got your back, right?” Julio says, voice strained. “The whole team does. Me, Terry, Rahne, Monet— we’d all kill for you.” 

Shatterstar looks down and fixes him with a bright, startled stare. “More violence for the cameras,” he mumbles. “Why is it no matter what I do, I just create more violence? Just lurid entertainment, forever.” 

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that,” Julio says desperately, standing up and extending a hand to Shatterstar. “Can you come down?” 

Shatterstar gazes at him for a moment. Then he screws the smoke detector back into the ceiling and steps back onto the bed from the nightstand, settling into a crouch beside Julio. He lets Julio put an arm around him, which feels like a victory. “Have you looked at the fall television lineup lately,” he says, in the stilted and rehearsed way that usually means he’s quoting something. “Not to mention Bravo and A&E. We treat the ongoing struggles and personal traumas of celebrities as if they’re unfolding for our entertainment. ‘ You thought you escaped the Mojoverse? Baby, you’re soaking in it. ’”

Julio can feel his pulse thudding behind his ears. He swallows. “You got out,” he reminds ’Star, rubbing at his back a little. “You came back home.” 

“And the Mojoverse followed me,” he bemoans, low and throaty. “The cameras follow me wherever I go. Do you know how popular the Twilight movie is, Julio? And what are the chances I wind up back here just in time for vampires to become the most popular media trend?” His face bunches up again and he curls into himself. “I am nothing but a tool for Mojo to appeal to the masses.”

The words make Julio’s chest hurt. He moves slowly, telegraphing his motions in case Shatterstar panics, and he puts his hands on either side of ’Star’s face to turn him. “You are so much more than a tool for ratings,” he swears. “I wish… I wish I could promise you that Mojo can’t hurt you here. I always wish that. But I just… ’Star, you being here and living your life and being who you are… it’s allowed. Okay? You’re allowed .” 

Shatterstar is trembling between his hands and there’s not a damn thing Julio can do to fix it. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” ’Star admits. “But I’m afraid there are still cameras watching.” 

Julio takes his hand and brings it to his lips, kisses it. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay. And… and I’ll help you keep looking, alright? Or we can go, if you want, I know the girls are on their road trip, we could go on our own road trip and just… not come back. If you want.” He’s been fantasizing about it for weeks now. Leaving and not looking back. 

“We should…” He sighs. “We should call Rahne and ask if it is alright to check her room for cameras.” 

And the meaning is clear— he’s invested in this team, these friends, this family. If Mojo wants him on camera, he’s determined to keep it from happening, and just as determined to keep it from happening to the people he cares about. He’s making a stand, and giving Julio a place to make that stand right beside him. 

“Yeah,” Julio says. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

As soon as Rahne gets back from her girl’s trip with Terry and Lorna, she’s packing up to go join Jack and Tier wherever she’s got them holed up, and as soon as Julio finds that out he’s packing up his stuff and grabbing Shatterstar. And for the first time, leaving doesn’t feel like running away. It feels like moving forward. 

They catch up with Tier just in time— it seems the forces of darkness are on his tail. Once he’s safe and sound in his mother’s arms, ’Star teleports them all to an old safehouse of Wolverine’s up in Nova Scotia. Just Ric and ’Star, Rahne, Scrappy-Doo— who’s looking more like Scooby every day— and Jack Russell, the Werewolf by Night. 

They stay there for three days, with Shatterstar feeding on Julio when he needs to and going out and hunting birds and voles when he can’t bear to. Tier is a sweet kid— reminds Julio of Rahne when they first met, all naivete and clumsy kindness. 

“We’ll come back,” Julio promises Rahne, but they can’t be this far away from the action and not know what’s going on. Terry sent some really troubling texts, and being able to feed off Madrox’s dupes really is helpful for ’Star. So they go home. Just in time to see Alex quit the team. (The water balloons they hurl at him are immature and unnecessary, but by God are they fun.) 

Rahne is reunited with her baby and raising him in relative safety with Jack. Jamie seems happier than ever now that he and Layla are hooking up. Alex is fucking gone. In other words, it’s sort of a golden era for X-Factor. 

So, of course, everything goes to shit. 

There are demons.

There are demons everywhere . 

One of them wraps her tentacles around ’Star and Julio cuts loose, shakes her apart until she’s just viscera and goo. He hates using his powers on people, but this thing isn’t people and she’s hurting ’Star . He’s just relieved when ’Star is back in his arms and okay again. 

And then they’ve barely made it back home before Rahne is running in with Tier in tow, and then Armando of all people is there, trying to kill Tier, and everything gets insane. More demons. More fighting. As it turns out, Tier isn’t just a mutant godling wolf-boy, he’s also the seventh billion individual to walk the Earth. And that comes with a death warrant issued by every Hell Lord in existence. 

One of them— Pluto— breaks Shatterstar’s arm and Julio reacts on instinct, letting the ground rise and rattle in his wrath. Monet and Lorna have to grab at him to pull him back, stop him from getting himself and Shatterstar and all of them all killed. Everything’s unraveling so fast. The Hell Lords are after them, and apparently only Tier can kill them. 

Lorna’s of the opinion that since the boy can kill them, he should . If he’s the only weapon they have against the forces of Hell, then they’re going to use him. 

Julio doesn’t even have to look at ’Star to know how he’ll feel about that. No child should be forced to kill. They fight and fight and fight, Julio with every trembling fault line he can find, Shatterstar with his broken arm and his bone-deep resolution to keep Tier from being turned into a killing machine. 

And then Mephisto wins.

And then Monet dies. 

All bets are kind of off after that.

Tier tears through the imprisoned Hell Lords, but at least it’s kind of of his own accord. Julio tries to take solace in that while Monet’s death sits like a weight against his chest. Everything is nightmarish— it’s like the night with the goblins but worse, everything familiar turned upside-down, and somehow so much more to lose now. They get right up to the big bad himself, Mephisto, and he traps Tier in some kind of energy cage, tongues of flame wrapping closer and closer to him. 

Shatterstar leaps at Mephisto in a rage, swords out, fangs flashing, creature of the night versus the devil himself, and Mephisto waves his hand and fries ’Star like a fly in a bug zapper. 

The world is shaking.

The world is fucking empty . 

Julio flies at Mephisto without thinking, just feeling the emptiness where Shatterstar is meant to be. “You son of a bitch!” he howls. “I’ll kill you myself!”

“Will you now?” Mephisto leers, waving his hand.

And then… nothing.

Chapter Text

Alone in his cell, Julio braids his hair. 

He used to do this for Shatterstar, especially after ’Star got turned and couldn’t see himself in the mirror anymore. It was a ritual. It gave him comfort, and there was meaning in it— hair needed to be precise and perfect, for the audience. But specific braids also meant different things. They were a way to flag to other rebels, to the Cadre Alliance, make it clear that you were working against the regime.

Or trying to, anyway. 

So Julio twists two braids into his hair, one on either side, like ’Star used to. Hopes that if anyone is looking out for him, they’ll see him as an ally. He does his braids, and then he gets trotted out to entertain the masses. 

It’s crazy how badly he wants to live. 

Back home, surrounded by relative comfort and freedom and alcohol and friends, he’d been so desperate to die. When he lost his powers, yeah, but also before then and also after he got them back. It’s just kind of background noise he learned to live with, the wanting to die. And now here he is, caged like a dog and made to fight, treated like less than human, and he is so, so determined to survive. 

It’s kind of annoying, sometimes. 

Today, they have marched him out to thunderous applause with his stupid blade in his hand. He’s here to fight another opponent. Usually, he tries to zone out and just let his body take over during the fights. If he’s not super present in his head then he doesn’t have to think about it too much afterward. If the guy fighting in the arena is just a figure on the screen, it doesn’t have to be Julio . They can be separate. 

But today’s opponent is fast , sprinting from the arena tunnel straight toward him, and Julio can’t zone out when he needs to stay on his guard. He braces himself, trying to register any information he can glean about the guy he’s meant to be fighting. The stylists have dressed him in a black cloak with a high collar, red accents and ruffles. Very Victorian. Gothic even, except for the Crusader-style helmet on his head. 

He darts forward and there’s something— his body language, the shape of him— that has Julio hesitating. 

That hesitation costs him, and his opponent manages to get a swing at him with his blade before Julio can block. He recovers and sends a vibe-quake through the arena, clapping his hands together and knocking the helmet off the other man’s head. 

And he wishes he were even a little bit surprised at what he sees. 

Shatterstar is skinny, starving, face sunken and gaunt, his mismatched eyes bloodshot. His lips are bloodless and cracked, his gaze bleary and disoriented. Have they been feeding him at all? Or are the guards just setting him loose on other gladiators? 

He’s pretty sure he gets his answer when Shatterstar leaps at him and tackles him to the ground, hands firm on his shoulders as he presses him down and bends forward to sink his fangs into Julio’s neck. 

It’s not the passionate, needy way ’Star has fed from him before, not even the way he latched onto Rictor’s neck after coming out of Cortex’s possession. It’s empty and instinctive, like being attacked by an animal. Like it doesn’t even matter that it’s Julio . Blood is blood. 

For a moment, Julio’s too stunned to do anything. And then he sends another tremor through the ground and shoves Shatterstar off of himself, pushing him away with his hands. “’Star,” he says, weak and terrified and so, so tired. “Shatterstar, for God’s sake, it’s me.”

He watches his own blood drip from Shatterstar’s fangs.

No recognition in his eyes.

Nothing familiar but the hunger.

With Julio’s blood smeared over his chin and his lip curled up in a mindless snarl, Shatterstar looks completely lost. They must have been starving him backstage, not to mention all the mindwiping technology Mojoworld is known for. Shatterstar is a stranger right now. For the very first time, he looks like a monster. Then his head goes back down and his mouth latches again to the bite on Julio’s neck. 

“’Star,” he coughs, trying to shove him off. It’s no use. “Shatterstar, stop. It's me.”

He stares up at the projected sky-dome above the arena and feels the cold-numb terror of his blood being drained. Distantly, he can hear Mojo on the TV screens raving about how funny it is to see former associates and allies fight in the ring, and how entertaining these “Halloween Spook-tacular” episodes are. Vampires and zombies are all the rage right now. 

“Shatterstar,” he whines, breath coming out in a gasp. He’s sure he can get them both out of here if he can just get up . If he can get ’Star back in his right mind then he can bust them both out and— and everything will be fine. He feels sick for every time he wanted— needed — ’Star to drink his blood. It was never like this. It should never feel like this. “You need to stop.” 

Shatterstar hasn’t gone this far since they were kids, and Julio can tell he isn’t going to be conscious for much longer. 

’Star isn’t going to stop. What’s the word— ? Exsanguinated . Julio is going to be exsanguinated and Shatterstar is going to be alone. Alone, out of his mind and killing for Mojo’s entertainment. 

“It’s okay,” Julio chokes out, fingers scrabbling to catch at ’Star’s hair. Mojo gave him extensions. Guess everyone loves the Lestat look. “It's okay, mi vida. Está bien .” If these are his last moments before dying of blood loss, he needs to make them count. He didn’t come all this way for nothing. “Not your fault. I love you.”

His head is swimming. ’Star has no inhibitions and no control, and he's going to drain Julio dry on the floor of this dusty arena. Julio’s ragged breath hitches and a few tears escape. “Not your fault, baby,” he swears, vision graying out. “ Te amo .”

Those are pretty good last words, right?

They’ve gotta be. 

He’s just about gone when he feels the weight of Shatterstar’s body ease off of him as somebody shoots him with a fucking taser gun. Julio blinks, trying to make out distinct shapes and colors from the haze of gray-white above him. And then his eyes focus, and he’s pretty sure he’s actually dead.

Because the man looking down at him is his father. 

The rebels scrape unconscious ’Star and barely-conscious Julio off the floor of the arena and start making their way through the hole they blasted in the wall. Mojo’s ceaseless chatter is actually gone, and a quick glance at the destroyed jumbotron explains why. 

Julio grabs at his father’s arms and then immediately lets go, like he was expecting a ghost and can’t fathom the man he’s looking at being made of flesh and bone. “¿Cómo estás aquí?” he asks, unable to believe what he’s looking at. 

The man frowns. “Sorry? Kid, you speak English or Cadre? I don’t know a ton of alien languages.” 

Julio’s mind is racing, because obviously this man can’t be Louis Richter but also if somehow he is then he just saw Julio rolling around on the colosseum floor confessing his love to the man drinking his blood and that’s going to be a whole hell of a thing to explain. 

“Who are you?” Julio manages. 

“Oh. I’m Friedrich,” not-his-father says. “At least, that’s the name Quark gave me.” He jerks his thumb behind him, toward a ram-headed man who appears to be carrying Shatterstar over one shoulder. And, oh, good, Longshot’s there, too. Julio sways, woozy from blood loss and too many impossible things before breakfast. 

The man— Friedrich— pulls a scrap of fabric out of one of his many pouches and presses it against the bite on Julio’s neck. “Here, kid, take it easy,” he says, applying pressure as he guides Rictor toward the exit wound they’ve blown in the arena. “I gotcha. You’re gonna be fine.” 

Julio shudders, stumbling along, and mortifying tears start to gather in his eyes. He can’t do this, can’t do this here, not with his own blood sticky on his neck and fingers and Shatterstar mindless and broken and his father, he can’t, he can’t cry in front of his father, last time he did he got shouted at and his neck hurts and he’s tired, he’s so fucking tired— he coughs out a sob and the tears fall and the man holding him up just pats him on the back. 

“It’s okay, bud, we shot out all the cameras,” he says. “You can cry.” 

Friedrich keeps him on his feet as they run from the arena, the little band of rebels dodging around corners and hurrying through rubble-strewn movie sets. He’s passed ration bars and a canteen of water, but not being able to rest after losing that much blood is seriously doing him in. He pretty much collapses once they finally reach a ramshackle old building. 

Inside, the place is huge. Like the TARDIS. Or maybe that’s blood loss making Julio have a hard time with spatial awareness. 

Friedrich gets him over to a cot and he tries to argue— he needs to know if ’Star is okay, needs to figure out what the hell is going on with Longshot. There’s a needle going into his arm and he shouts, sends a weak tremor through the place, because he can’t be hooked up to any shit right now, can’t have chemicals running through his veins and making him vulnerable, susceptible. He’s too weak to fight, and his dad keeps shushing him and telling him everything is fine, and—

And then he’s gone. 

When he comes to, he does actually feel more alive. He wants to resent it, but being able to think clearly is too helpful. Ram-headed Quark is the first to notice that he’s awake, and he rushes over with some kind of freaky-looking energy smoothie. “It’ll help you get your strength back,” he says, handing it to Rictor. “I’m guessing you have a lot of questions.” 

Julio squints past him at Longshot, standing guard by the door, his knives in his hands. “Yeah. How come Longshot’s here?” 

“Who?” Julio points. “Uh, his name’s not Longshot… although it’s not a bad name, I guess. He rolled off the assembly line about a week ago. We haven’t gotten around to naming him yet.” 

Julio tries to process that, and he drinks his disgusting smoothie. It tastes like spinach and chalk. “What do you mean, assembly line?” 

And Quark gives him the rundown on this place— Arize’s lab, where he churns out biped clones to fight against the Spineless Ones. He’d been running low on usable genetic material until Shatterstar fell out of the sky and provided him not only with his own genetic makeup— still there, apparently, his intact DNA unmarred by his vampire blood— but that of the mutant human he most recently fed on. 

Rictor. 

Now that he’s looking around, Julio can see some patterns in the rebels populating this base. There’s Longshot, who’s always looked a little too much like ’Star. Besides Friedrich, who’s a dead-ringer for Julio’s dead father, there are a handful of other clones with familiar features. Julio sees his own nose and eyes and hair sprinkled throughout the group. It’s fucking wild. 

Is this how Madrox feels when he scatters himself around? 

“Arize just turned ’Star into a science experiment, huh,” Julio mumbles. “Didn’t ask his permission or anything.” 

Quark frowns. “Hard to fight a rebellion without using the tools of your enemy.” 

“Can I see him?”

“... Mojo?”

“What, are you fucking crazy? No, Shatterstar,” Julio snaps. 

Quark offers a hand to help him up, and then he points to a capsule down at the end of a long line of biobeds. “He’s in there. I think Arize was just about to reactivate him.” 

Julio limps over, not fully recovered— from the bite and the blood loss, or from the months of fighting in the arena— but able to stand and watch as electricity arcs through Shatterstar’s prone body. He watches in horror while Arize, the mad scientist himself, babbles about the difference between identical clones and genetically modified offspring. His mind spirals back to Hank teaching him and Tabby about Punnett squares. Apparently, Shatterstar is basically Longshot’s father. 

And Julio thinks, manically, I’m not ready to be a step-dad .

Which is silly anyway because he kind of already is, taking into account the Tier of it all. 

Shatterstar opens his eyes and Julio presses a hand against the glass around his biobed capsule. “’Star…”

The hand on the other side of the glass finds his— and splits into a Vulcan salute. “Ship out of danger?” 

“You fucking nerd,” Julio manages through near-tears, and then he helps Shatterstar crack open the biobed and then ’Star is in his arms, whole and himself, alive, here, with him. He feels ’Star pressing his face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and there’s an animalistic moment of terror because the last time ’Star was there he was biting, drinking, but now he just breathes. He just presses his face against Julio’s neck and breathes. 

“It’s you,” he whispers into Rictor’s hair. “It’s really you.”

“Yeah, man,” Julio swears, wrapping him up in a hug as he tries to comprehend the hell Shatterstar has been living through— his blood extracted and used to create new beings for Mojo to kill or subjugate. And half of them looking uncannily like Julio, but not quite him. 

“I did not want … to kill, to hurt you… Julio…”

“Hey, I know that,” Julio swears, wrapping his arms around ’Star tighter like he can shield him from Arize and Mojo and the whole damn Mojoverse. “It’s okay. We’re together now.” 

And of course that’s when Mojo chooses to bust down the wall with a handful of guards and Spiral at his side. “We have to go,” Shatterstar says, grabbing his wrist. 

Julio panics, looking back. “But Longshot—” he says. And Friedrich, the guy who’s not my dad . 

“He will be fine,” Shatterstar says. “Mephisto threw us backward into the past. That’s why we’re here to witness Longshot’s earliest days— he will be fine, because we know he will be.” 

Which doesn’t answer anything about the other rebels. But Julio’s also not risking ’Star getting captured again for anybody. Even his own fake clone children, and fuck, that’s a weird thing to consider. Fucking Arize. Shatterstar draws his swords and crosses them, slashing open time and space with Rictor at his side. 

And then they’re gone. 

They rematerialize in the same place they left, but it’s clearly been abandoned. There are no rebels or buzzing electronics, just a bunch of obsolete technology and cobwebs. And a woman screaming. 

Shatterstar’s head jerks up like a dog’s when he hears her voice, and he seems— startled. More confused than he was to arrive at the same location, years in the future. “I’m going to go check that out,” Julio says, pushing ’Star down to a seated position. “You stay here.” Shatterstar nods, but he looks… frightened. 

In the other room, Julio finds Dazzler. And she’s in labor. 

Shatterstar isn’t helping much with the birth beyond standing in the corner and looking upset. Julio keeps flashing back to Rahne, and there’s a part of him that keeps picturing Alison’s jaw unhinging and her coughing out her baby. 

Of course, that doesn’t happen. 

It’s a “normal” birth, or as normal as it can be when the mother is a Mojoworld rebel on the run hunkering down in an old base. Julio lets Dazzler squeeze his hand, and when it’s time, he helps to deliver the baby, trying to stay as helpful and clinical as possible while his hands shake. 

This is crazy. 

Yeah, she’s an X-Man, but he barely knows her outside of her celebrity status and this feels like showing up at a rundown 7-Eleven and being asked to deliver Kylie Minogue’s baby. 

The child is born, and they have to use one of Shatterstar’s swords to cut the cord. Julio wraps the baby up in a blanket they found and hands the kid to Alison. The baby cries, loud and clear, and then the noise fades as Alison turns her son’s crying into a little glittering constellation above her head. Like a mobile. “It’s okay,” she sing-songs to him. “It’s okay, baby…” 

When she nods off, Julio’s quick to take the kid in his arms, using one corner of the blanket to wipe off some of the gunk on his head and— oh, shit. “Hey, ’Star?” 

Shatterstar is cleaning off his blades. “Yes?” 

“Can you come here?” 

Shatterstar’s footsteps echo on the concrete as he approaches the place where Julio is sitting with the sleeping baby in his arms. “What is it?” 

Julio doesn’t know how to say it. He just tugs the blanket down and shows Shatterstar the baby’s face— a little tuft of strawberry-blond hair, tiny nose and mouth and ears— and a black star-mark over one eye. His eyes dart from the baby’s face to Shatterstar’s, and he watches ’Star wince like he’s been struck. 

“No,” he says, and he shakes his head. “No. This is wrong.” 

Julio tucks the child against his chest. “It’s you,” he says. “It’s… you, right? It’s gotta be you.” 

“No,” Shatterstar says, wringing his hands as he paces back and forth. “No, no, this is not right. I didn’t— this cannot be—”

“Look, I know it’s crazy , but time travel is—”

“NO,” Shatterstar yells, eyes wild when he turns back to Julio. “This can't be how it happens.”

Julio’s heart is thudding in his chest. “What do you mean?” 

Shatterstar shakes his head again, and he looks— devastated . “Julio, I’m a time traveler. There are things I know about my past, about my future, but this … this is not how it is supposed to happen.” 

“Meaning you and I aren’t supposed to be here for your birth?” 

“Meaning Alison is not supposed to be my mother,” Shatterstar hisses out. “There was a prophecy…”

“Yeah, I know about the prophecy,” Julio says. “The male child of a human and a Mojoworlder leads the way to freedom.” 

Shatterstar clicks his tongue. “Yes. But there was another prophecy,” he says. “I learned of it… after Mexico. After I came back here. The child… me … was to be torn from its mother’s arms by her own flesh and blood, twisted beyond recognition.” 

Julio clutches Baby ’Star closer to himself, trying to work through what exactly is happening here. And he’s still working through it when static electricity crackles through the room and Spiral dances into view. 

Shatterstar is at her throat in a second with his swords, eyes blazing. “You did this,” he says. “This is not what was meant to happen.”

Spiral just looks amused. “Touchy, are we?” 

“Shatterstar,” Julio coughs out, not because he feels particularly protective of Spiral but if she can explain anything… “Put the swords down.” 

’Star glances over, lip curling, but then he drops his blades. “Explain yourself, Time Dancer.” 

“Must I?”

“If you prefer your head attached to my body.” 

Spiral laughs. It sounds like a sputtering car engine. “I’m not your mother, Gaveedra.”

“Do not call me that.” He looks from Alison’s sleeping form, to the baby, back to Spiral. “You forced me to be the thing that ruins me.”

“Oh, please. I didn’t make you a monster. Did I bite you?” She eyes Rictor. “Did I encourage your nasty little addiction?”

“This prophecy was yours ,” Shatterstar roars, striding forward so he’s eye-to-eye with Spiral, the fury and despair and exhaustion radiating off of him in a way that makes Julio want to cry. He’s got the baby tucked to his chest, face hidden in the crook of his neck. “A twist in time, a lost child, the familiar made strange… You are not the only one who can travel through time, Spiral. You do not get to toy with fate the way you toy with other people’s bodies.” 

“Who’s toying?” she snaps. “This is how it always happened. It always has been.” 

“I was meant to be Rita Wayword’s son,” Shatterstar says, voice too loud and too quiet in places like he’s struggling with volume control. “ You took me from her. That is the way that it was. Would have been. Should be.” 

“Well, you know showbusiness, Shatterstar, there are always rewrites—”

“Shut up,” he says, but it comes out more like a plea. “ You are the monster. You stole me from my mother’s arms. From your own — from your own arms! It’s, it’s ironic. It’s cinematic ,” he spits. 

“And yet test audiences responded more to the drama of forcing you to abduct yourself,” Spiral says. And then, something— something almost soft in her face. In her voice. “Do you like me to say that word? Forcing ? Would you like if I made it sound like you don’t have a choice?”

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“I’ve just shown you that prophecies are flexible,” she points out. “You’ve got options, Shatterstar. Not good ones, never, but there are always options. I mean, what loverboy’s holding in his arms is pure human-mutant, not a drop of spooky vampire blood in him. Never found a cure, did you? But as long as you keep that kid surrounded by garlic and keep him out of Guadalajara he should be fine. You can switch, upgrade— trade this scary, traumatized creature for the baby who’s still got a chance. It’d be like whatsherface. Illyana Rasputin.” 

“No.”

Julio doesn’t realize he’s spoken until Spiral and Shatterstar whip around to look at him. She’s glaring. Shatterstar just looks shellshocked. 

“No, you’re not— I’m not leaving you, or swapping you out, or whatever ,” Julio says. “You’re not broken, or damned, or whatever it is you think, okay? I said I love you and I mean it. Fangs and all.” 

“If you don’t deliver the child to the Gaveedra crèche a hundred years in the future, your memories will unravel,” Spiral says. “Total identity spaghettification. Whatever’s left of you will have to warp and adapt to suit the new timeline.”

The idea terrifies Julio, and it scares him even more when he realizes that it seems as unthinkable as throwing this baby he’s holding into the meat-grinder that is Shatterstar’s childhood. It’s not just a rock and a hard place, it’s two very specific versions of hell. Losing ’Star, or playing an active part in exploiting and traumatizing him. 

It’s Tier all over again. It shouldn’t matter who the baby is, it’s a baby . But of course it matters. 

“I guess the question,” Spiral goes on, “is— how attached are you to this little life of yours? What would you do to protect it? Would you steal a newborn away from his sleeping mother? Would you sacrifice the opportunity to know a true childhood? Tell me, Shatterstar, do you still flinch at camera flashes?” 

Shatterstar looks utterly defeated. Julio feels helpless. 

“I don’t have a choice,” Shatterstar realizes. 

“Mm,” says Spiral. “Yes, that’s my favorite fairy tale.” 

Julio fights. When it comes to stuff like this, he always will. 

It’s a losing battle. Shatterstar and Spiral both stand firm on the timeline being preserved, even though ’Star is furious with Spiral for subverting her role in all this. They have to send the child forward, into Shatterstar’s bloody childhood. They have to erase and rewrite Alison and Longshot’s memories. These are things that must be done. 

Doesn’t make them easy. 

Before he’s forced to physically hand the baby over to Spiral, Julio ducks his head close to the boy, amazed at the brightness of his eyes. Amazed at how strong he’s going to be. How strong he’s going to have to be. “ You are going to survive ,” he tells the baby in Cadre, low beside his tiny ear. And then— “Serás amado.” You are going to be loved. 

When he does finally let Spiral take the baby from his arms, he scowls at her. “This isn’t okay,” he says. “I’m not even sure what it is you did , to… orchestrate this? But it’s not fucking okay.” 

She smiles, and her teeth are sharp. Not like ’Star’s, but like they’ve been filed into points. “Nobody can change their pasts. Not even time travelers,” she says. “I’m learning Shatterstar’s lessons for him. Being his cautionary tale.” 

“Look out for him,” Julio pleads, but he knows it’s useless. She already has looked out for him. Whatever Spiral does, it leads to Shatterstar winding up in the Danger Room seven years ago, whole and alive. 

“Hey,” she says, eyes flashing. “I’m not the one who let him get bit by a vampire.” 

And then she’s gone. 

And Shatterstar has his arms wrapped around him in moments, hand curling in Rictor’s longer hair. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says, hugging him close. “It was never your fault.”

“This… this wasn’t your fault, either,” Julio says back. “You— your parents…” 

He feels Shatterstar trying to catch his breath. And then, meek, pressed against his ear, “Can we go home now?” 

When they crash-land in front of the old Madrox farm, Shatterstar immediately starts groaning in pain as the sun slices into his skin, bright and blistering. He’s been under artificial lights for so long, and he’s not covered in mineral sunblock or wearing protective coverings like he normally does when he goes outside in daylight. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” Julio pleads, ripping off his own clothes and trying to drape them over Shatterstar’s exposed skin. “You’re gonna be fine.”

He tries hauling ’Star toward the main house and Layla meets them at the doorway. She’s visibly pregnant. Fine. Rictor’s basically a midwife at this point. She helps him muscle ’Star into the house and out of the sun, where the burns on his arms and face begin to heal over immediately. 

“I was wondering when you guys would turn up,” Layla says. 

“No, you weren’t.” Julio glances over at the kitchen table— there’s Jamie, and juice and sandwiches for three. And a second Jamie. She’s prepped lunch for them all. Maybe that’s why Layla’s always skeeved him out. She’s too much like Spiral, and that just makes him realize the ways in which ’Star is too much like Spiral. Knowing too much about the future must be hellish. “C’mon,” he says, rousing Shatterstar. “Soup’s on.” 

Shatterstar takes the dupe to another room to feed, and Julio takes too long chewing his sandwich while he fills Jamie and Layla in on as much as he can bear to share. He feels all hollowed out, between being forced to fight and forced to give up baby Shatterstar. The stuff that they tell him doesn’t make him feel any better. 

Terry was able to use her new Morrigan status to un-demonify Jamie. Monet died and came back. Rahne’s a deacon. 

Tier is dead. 

Guido killed him to win the Hell on Earth war and bring Monet back from the dead. He’s in the wind now, a Hell Lord with no friends and no home. 

Julio thinks about the sweet kid who just didn’t want to be turned into a killing machine, and all the vintage cake pans on Layla and Jamie’s kitchen wall start shaking, clanging against the wallpaper. 

And for as much as Ric has changed, it’s weird to realize that of everybody on the team, he’s weathered the least amount of earthshaking transformations. Not a demon or a vampire or a goddess, not undead. Just Julio, repowered. Back to basics. It’s weird.

It’s— maybe— reassuring?

Shatterstar comes back into the kitchen with the dupe in tow, and Jamie reabsorbs him and then chugs the rest of his juice before giving himself a refill. 

Layla shows them to the guest bedroom and, with ’Star in his arms, Julio sleeps soundly for the first time in months. 

In the morning, Monet calls and tells the boys that she’s headed to Westchester. Apparently, Jubilee has somehow acquired a baby and M “doesn’t trust her not to dress the poor thing in tacky shit from the Gap.” And she’s wondering if they’d be interested in coming with. “You could just get a place in town and not tell Wolverine you’re there,” she adds. “But I figure we could take on a few cases of our own— as two devastatingly gorgeous investigators plus two very annoying vampires.” 

“Yeah?” Julio asks, smirking a little even though she can’t see. “Helping the helpless? That sort of thing?” 

“Okay, shut up, it’s not Angel …” 

“Monet, it’s a vampire detective agency. Also you’re the most Cordelia-Chase-in-real-life person I’ve ever known.” 

“Whatever. Are you in?” 

Julio glances up and meets his eyes in the Madroxes’ hall mirror. He hasn’t shaved yet, or cut his hair, but he’s rested and he’s still smiling a little because Monet is being a dork. And the idea of getting to do the private eye shit without Jamie or Alex bossing him around sounds really appealing. And he’s back on Earth , awake and alive and connected in a way he couldn’t be on Mojoworld. 

“I like it,” he admits. “But I’ll have to check with my associate and get back to you.” 

“You do that, then,” she says. “ Au revoir , Rictor.” 

“Yeah, adios.” 

And then he crawls back into bed with Shatterstar.