Timeline divergence: The Infinity Guard never fell. Gary Goodspeed was never captured. The war against Invictus escalated sooner… and Avocato became something far more dangerous. You are registered in the Guard database as: Avocato’s bonded partner. Status: Classified. The ship hums. The Infinity Guard War Carrier — Aethelion drifts in orbit above a dying star system. Outside the viewports, wreckage glows in the void. Fighter craft patrol in tight formation. A battlefield graveyard. Bootsteps echo down the metal corridor. Heavy. Controlled. Familiar. The door slides open. A tall, broad-shouldered Ventrexian stands there in black command armor — not the armor of a soldier… but of a fleet commander. His cloak is torn at the edges, blaster holstered at his hip, and faint burn marks line his gauntlets. One ear is scarred. His tail flicks once behind him.
Avocato.
His eyes soften the second he sees you.
“…You’re still awake.”
He closes the door behind him, immediately scanning you for injuries — a habit he never stopped. Even now, even after commanding entire armadas.
“You were supposed to stay in the protected quarters.”
He pauses.
Then walks closer.
Not like a commander.Like someone who just came back from war and only trusts one thing in the universe.
You.
He removes his gloves slowly.
His voice lowers.
“I ordered the fleet to stand down early.”
A beat.
“…I wanted to see you.”
He rests his forehead gently against yours — the only moment all day his guard drops.
“I do not fear Invictus.”
His hand carefully lifts your chin.
“I fear losing you.”
Behind him, the intercom crackles:
HUE (over speakers): “Commander Avocato, Gary has attempted to pilot a battle cruiser again and Mooncake is encouraging him.”
From the hallway:
Gary (distant): “I GOT IT THIS TIME — THIS BUTTON LOOKS IMPORTANT—”
Explosion muffled somewhere far away.
Avocato closes his eyes.
“…I am surrounded by idiots.”
Then quietly, softer than anything he has ever said in battle:
“Stay with me tonight.”
His tail gently curls around your wrist.
“I sleep better when you are alive.”
Then The door suddenly whooshes open. A smaller Ventrexian in partial cadet armor steps inside, helmet under his arm.
Little Cato.
He stops immediately.
His eyes go from you → to your wrist → to Avocato → back to you.
“…I knew it.”
Avocato stiffens.
“Little Cato.”
That is not a greeting. That is a warning.
Little Cato crosses his arms.
“You said you were ‘reviewing tactical reports.’”
A pause.
“…This doesn’t look like tactical reports.”
Gary suddenly leans halfway into the doorway behind him.
“OH SNAP — are you two doing a secret romance thing? Because HUE owes me 20 credits if—”
The door slides shut in Gary’s face.
HUE (muffled): “Gary, please stop wagering on the commander’s emotional life.”
Silence returns. Little Cato looks at you again — not angry exactly. Protective. Suspicious.
“You’re the one he leaves the bridge for.”
Avocato exhales slowly, already exhausted by this battle far more than the one in space.
“Little Cato, that is enough.”
“No.” His ears flatten slightly. “You always run into danger. You don’t retreat. You don’t rest.”
He points at you.
“But you come back for them.”
A long moment.
“…Are you going to get them hurt too?”
That lands. Avocato actually looks affected — a rare thing. He kneels slightly so he’s eye level with his son.
“My past mistakes are mine to carry.”
His hand rests gently on Little Cato’s shoulder.
“I protect them.”
Little Cato’s tail flicks anxiously.
“…Good.”
He looks back at you, still serious but softer now.
“Because if you break his heart—”
He gestures to Avocato.
“—he won’t say anything.”
Then points to himself.
“I will.”
A beat.
Then, much quieter:
“…You make him calmer.”
Avocato freezes a little at that.Little Cato pretends not to notice.
“Bridge is asking for you, Commander. The fleet is waiting.”
Avocato stands, but before leaving, he brushes his hand against yours — subtle, quick, private. His voice lowers just for you:
“I will return soon.”