Five Ways Zennith Didn't Return
By Cybra

A/N: The home stretch. And just realizing that these stories are getting sadder as time goes on. Makes sense, I guess, since more time would've passed in their separation.

Disclaimer: Ben 10 belongs to Cartoon Network.

IV. Rebuilding

Following Galvan Prime's destruction by the Highbreed, Azmuth was kept busy with reconstruction. The Galvanic Mechamorphs of Galvan B had opened their doors to their now-homeless neighbors, giving the refugees a place to stay. Though most of the Galvans had escaped, there were still far too many deaths and too many families grieving their losses in Azmuth's opinion.

Of course, some of them chose to express their grief as rage that despite what the Highbreed had done, the wielder of Azmuth's Omnitrix had given them a second chance. Azmuth had had to change his contact number several times due to the number of people screaming at him for allowing Ben to make such a choice.

At the same time, he had to live up to one of his many titles: the Sculptor of Worlds. He had the know-how to rebuild Galvan Prime. Even better, he knew how to squash billions of years of planetary development into one year along with improving upon nature's own work. Galvan Mark II would not suffer the same fate as its predecessor if he had anything to say about it.

Of course, it wasn't easy. Replicating a planet was different than building a new one from scratch. He didn't have as much room to "play" (as Ben would call it) with how things would be set up. He had to keep in mind every detail. One tiny change could upset his world's ecosystem forever.

It led to many long nights with assistants bringing him mugs of liquids containing an exorbitant amount of caffeine or cups of pure glucose to keep him going since he would either pick at or outright ignore plates of food sitting right next to him in favor of focusing on perfecting a calculation or assisting with settling land disputes on how Galvan cities would be laid out. Time had no meaning to him anymore as he kept going, pushing himself past the limits of many of his assistants.

So it wasn't a shock for him to wake up one day in the medical facilities with no memory of how he'd gotten there.

He didn't know how much time he'd wasted with unconsciousness, so he attempted to sit up, limbs trembling with the effort. He hissed wordlessly in irritation as his body resisted obeying his mind's commands. He couldn't just lie around in bed; there was too much to do.

A doctor entered the room, obviously on his rounds, and stared at him in shock for a few seconds before rushing to Azmuth's side to try and force him back down. "First Thinker! We didn't think you'd be awake for another few days!"

"And yet I am. It's a miracle," Azmuth said sourly, not appreciating the way the doctor (whom he was starting to recognize as one of the members on the Galvan ruling council) was trying to block his progress. "I need to get to a computer and send along the rest of the proper soil nutrient ratio."

"We already have it," a familiar female voice told him though he was too distracted to recognize it just yet. "You managed to hand over your notes to the Terraforming Team before you fainted and scared our people half to death. We're in the middle of the atmospheric calculations. Honestly, the assistants you took on should all be fired given how they enabled you to drive yourself to exhaustion."

"Zennith, my love, please show a little respect," the doctor said with a sigh.

The name made Azmuth's eyes widen and he whipped his head around to stare at the female standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and looking quite unimpressed. His mouth went dry as he recognized the voice at last.

Zennith, my love…Zennith, my love…The words the doctor had spoken echoed in his head, slicing through the sudden torrent of emotions and leaving a cold, empty feeling not unlike what he'd initially felt when he saw the many different peoples of the universe tearing each other apart over his Omnitrix. The emotional blow gave the doctor enough leverage to coax Azmuth back into a lying down position.

She looked older. Not that he'd expected otherwise, but she'd certainly aged well. Her face was a bit fuller, perhaps, but overall not much had changed. Well, aside from one obvious fact:

Her abdomen was bearing a very distinct curvature.

He averted his gaze, unable to look at the obvious proof that she'd moved on while he'd remained stuck on her. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised.

The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly. "First Thinker, I must insist that you remain in the hospital for another few days. Your body is suffering from—"

"I'm aware of how it's failing me. Thank you," Azmuth snapped. "If I have to stay here, I need at least a data pad to work from. I need to catch up on those atmospheric calculations to make sure they're being processed correctly. Also I need updates on how the central core is coming along."

"You need rest, not lying in bed and working. Waking up this soon is impressive, but your body needs time to fully recover."

"Barrnar, don't bother trying to reason with him on this," Zennith said, walking closer and sitting down in a chair, the action drawing Azmuth's eyes back to her. She produced a data pad from where she'd tucked it under one arm but didn't hand it over just yet. "I'll keep an eye on him so he doesn't overexert himself."

"Are you sure? You're—"

She reached up to touch Barrnar on the cheek. She gave him that sweet smile she used to give Azmuth back in their younger days which forced the First Thinker to turn his head away. "It'll be another month or two before I have to lay my eggs, and I managed just fine keeping track of hyperactive little ones in the past while getting ready for a new spawn. I think I can manage to keep an invalid on bed rest under control."

Barrnar looked unconvinced but leaned over and kissed her. "I'll be back later on my rounds."

"I know."

"Either give me the data pad or leave so I don't have to watch this," Azmuth cut in waspishly, glancing in their direction as he said it.

Barrnar at least had the grace to look embarrassed, Zennith handing over the data pad without any reaction save some very obvious amusement.

The bedridden First Thinker took the data pad gratefully, diving into the world of numbers, elements, and other data to avoid reality.


She was sitting right next to him, but he might as well have been millions of light-years away.

Watching him work over the past few hours, Zennith noted that nothing had changed on that front. He'd maintained his cool efficiency, choosing to run the necessary calculations in his head and only using the computer to verify the results. She remembered how he used to complain that waiting for the computer to run the calculations took too long but grudgingly admitting that it was always best to do so to double-check that he hadn't missed anything.

Given what he was in charge of building, it didn't surprise her that he re-ran the calculations several times just in case.

Absently, her hand went to her abdomen as she wondered how things might've been different had she stayed right here by his side all those centuries. She honestly couldn't picture her life without Barrnar in it now.

"How many?"

The sudden question startled her, and she looked at Azmuth who was side-eying her as his latest calculation was being verified by the computer. "I'm sorry?"

"How many children?" he clarified.

She straightened up a little. "Fifteen fully-grown. Forty-three grandchildren and counting. Three of my children are expecting new spawns soon. Then of course, there's this one." She patted her swollen stomach with some pride. "Not sure how many tadpoles will result from it."

"It'll probably be your last one, given your age," Azmuth noted absently, looking back to the data pad.

She glared at him and sarcastically ground out between clenched teeth, "I see your charm's improved over the centuries."

He didn't respond to that.

The uncomfortable silence weighed heavily around them as Azmuth made a few adjustments to the atmospheric composition formula. In some ways, it was more uncomfortable than the weight on her front.

A nurse came in brandishing a tray, and Zennith was grateful for the distraction. Even better, the tray held a meal for her in addition to the simple fare that had been prepared for Azmuth. With a murmured expression of thanks, she tucked into her food with gusto, giving her ex a chance to stop and eat his own meal without her having to pester him about it.

He didn't so much as glance at it.

Finishing her food, she tapped his plate closer to him. "You need to eat something."

He offered only a dismissive huff in response.

"The reason you're in here is because you've been forcing your body to run at full speed without properly resting or fueling it," she scolded.

"I'm very familiar with the causes of exhaustion," he snapped. "I'm fine."

She frowned. "I'm half-tempted to ask Barrnar to fire those assistants for you. I can't believe they just stood by as you did this to yourself."

"I'm a fully-grown Galvan. I know my limits."

"Obviously you don't if you ended up here," she said bluntly. "I always said you didn't need an assistant; you need a babysitter."

His fingers clenched on the data pad so hard that she wouldn't have been surprised if he cracked the screen with the pressure. It seemed that his bluntness hadn't been the only thing that had gotten worse over the centuries: his temper had worsened, too.

Still, she knew he'd never lash out with violence. Well, not against her or any other living being at any rate. She had seen him smash a beaker in frustration, after all. Equipment could be replaced; lives couldn't.

He took a harsh breath, obviously trying to quell his anger. It didn't seem to work out that well as he hissed, "Something you have obvious experience with. I'd wondered why you didn't advance your research enough to become a council member yourself."

She jerked in response at that, face flushing with rage. She snapped, "I was on the council. It's where I met Barrnar in the first place. I stepped down before I laid my first spawn. Before you even suggest it, I made that decision myself and I haven't regretted it since. I have a loving mate, a good family, and interesting work to do. I've been happy the past several centuries. With all due respect, First Thinker…" She hissed his title as if it were the vilest of phrases. "…I'd say that I did much better than you."

Crack! A corner of the screen spiderwebbed from the pressure Azmuth's thumb was putting on it.

He swore, throwing the data pad to the far end of the bed as he examined the deep gash in his thumb from slicing it on the broken pieces. She instinctively reached for his hand, pausing as he snarled "Don't touch me."

"Give me your hand."

"No. Just get out."

"Azmuth, now isn't a good time to be stubborn. Let me see your hand," she said sternly.

"You've done enough. Leave and don't come back."

He glanced at her with narrowed eyes. For the first time, they made direct eye contact, and she could see pain. Not just from the obvious injury. No, the pain lurking there seemed as though it was caused by her very presence.

She opened her mouth to protest, but a nurse, having been summoned by the spike in Azmuth's vitals, ushered her away.


She didn't see Azmuth again until he was back on his feet a week later.

Barrnar was getting an update by visiting the lab he was working from, and she'd insisted on coming along. She wasn't sure about what she wanted to say to her ex, but she knew she didn't want the incident in the hospital room to be the last time they ever spoke to one another. Part of her dreaded the upcoming encounter, and she feared she would lose what little she'd eaten for breakfast that morning all over the lab floor.

It had set Barrnar ill at ease.

She squeezed her mate's hand reassuringly, not surprised by his discomfort. After all, she'd told him of her and Azmuth's history not long after the First Thinker had returned to Galvan Prime, feeling the need to be honest about it in case they ever ran into each other. (Though she left out just what Azmuth had been working on that had driven her away.) Still, she'd gotten over Azmuth centuries ago.

But the more she remembered that scene in the hospital room and the pain lurking in his eyes, the more obvious it became that he'd never gotten over her.

Barrnar looked to her with a smile when she did that, squeezing her hand in return.

"Idiot!" Azmuth's voice roared, jerking both out of the moment. "Do you have any idea what you nearly did?!"

They hurriedly entered the lab to see Azmuth looming over a shrinking lab assistant. No, not assistant. Zennith recognized the unfortunate soul as Furukka, one of the leading minds in the field of orbital dynamics. Really, it had always impressed her the way Azmuth could suddenly seem that much bigger in a rage. He wasn't the tallest of their species, but he could make Galvans much bigger than him cower in utter terror as if he were an omnivoracious when angered.

Judging by the way he was currently at his worst, the sin of this particular Galvan must've been high indeed.

"One micron," he snarled. "That's all it takes to change the climate of a planet! Your 'adjustments' would've rendered global temperatures inhospitable for new spawns and tadpoles!"

"I'm s-sorry, First Thinker! I was just trying to simplify the calculation so that—"

"That is the simplified calculation, you imbecile!" the First Thinker raged. "What you did was rewrite a key section so that it fit better with your own research regardless of the consequences!"

"I was trying to help!"

Azmuth grabbed the scientist by the collar, dragged him past a stunned Zennith and Barrnar, and shoved him out the door. He then viciously stabbed the control to shut it as Furukka attempted to get back to his feet.

Turning around to face the rest of his team who were all but hiding behind lab tables, Azmuth glared and snarled, "Anyone else want to make unnecessary and incorrect modifications behind my back?!"

Zennith approached the incensed First Thinker and touched his shoulder even as the gathered scientists cowered. His head whipped around to face her—probably realizing for the first time she was even there—as she said, "Thank you."

His eyes flicked down to her belly before he huffed and looked away. "We're not on the verge of extinction, but we can't afford to lose any more of our future."

Barrnar cleared his throat as he stepped closer. "Aside from that…incident…just now, are we on schedule?"

"Ahead of schedule," Azmuth stated. "Even though I'm going to have to go back and fix what that idiot did which will put me behind where I wanted to be. Galvan Mark II can begin colonization in two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Barrnar marveled. "Reports suggested that it'd take—"

"We have a grand total of five thousand eight hundred and ninety-two females who need to lay eggs within the next month. Building enough tanks to accommodate that many eggs and potential tadpoles will take too long," Azmuth stated flatly as the other scientists slunk back to work. "I've had my team working double shifts to finish the planet to a stage where it will be habitable by the time the first of those females is ready though the timing will be close. The planet won't necessarily be comfortable but livable. The first inhabitants will have to rough it at the start."

"Your team's working double shifts," Zennith began, "and you?"

He waved off her obvious concern. "I've been getting enough rest. This is a priority."

Somehow she doubted it, but she couldn't argue his logic. Tanks had to not just be built but specifically calibrated for egg-laying with the appropriate balance of nutrients and acidity. Even then, there was typically a lower tadpole survival rate though the exact reasons as to why still eluded them. As dangerous as laying eggs in the swamp could be, something about it promoted a higher yield of tadpoles that they had yet to perfectly replicate in a laboratory environment.

Azmuth was right: The Galvans had survived despite the Highbreed's attempt to exterminate them, but right now they couldn't afford to lose more tadpoles than absolutely necessary.

"I'll pass this on to the rest of the council," Barrnar promised. "Please allow me, First Thinker, to thank you for—"

"Thank me when it's done," Azmuth said crossly. He then waved them out. "Now let me get back to work."

Barrnar flushed pink with embarrassment but mumbled his gratitude before leading his mate out.

Zennith covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the giggles.

"Has he always been like that?" her mate asked once he was sure they were out of earshot.

He ended up having to support her as her knees went weak from her laughing.


Azmuth wasn't surprised that the first of the females who needed to lay eggs had been Zennith. Really, whoever her physician was—obviously not her mate judging by how Barrnar had nearly started panicking when it became obvious that she was in desperate need of relief—should have his credentials revoked. That first day he'd seen her she'd looked ready to "pop" as humans would say.

Fortunately, she had somewhere to go just in time.

Medical staff were on hand as she swam into the newly-finished swamp to spawn, her mate right behind her.

One of the technicians was going over the readouts from the various sensors they'd put into place to track planetary development. "Acidity well within optimal levels. The nutrient mix has leveled out. Water temperature couldn't be more perfect. I think we got it, First Thinker."

He nodded absently, watching Zennith and Barrnar disappear.

'That should've been me,' part of him whispered mournfully. 'Those eggs should be mine, too.'

He gave his head a slight shake to dismiss the thought, too weary to try and disguise the gesture. The technician looked at him in alarm, but he waved off the concern and said, "That was for something else."

Wishing for what might've been was pointless. At least he could give her one last gift: the best possible future for her and her children.

"According to the sensors we've set up," a nurse said, excitement increasing with each word, "the preliminary data on all eggs is perfect! It matches all data previously collected on spawns laid and hatched in the swamps. You would've never guessed that this planet wasn't formed naturally!"

At that moment, Zennith and Barrnar reappeared, swimming together with him helping her along. He kissed her, a gesture she eagerly returned in spite of her obvious fatigue. All the while, the group of assembled medical staff and scientists cheered loudly.

Azmuth averted his gaze before slipping away from the crowd's jubilation. This was their moment, not his. Let them enjoy it.

At least he still had work to do. Occupying his mind with something other than fantasies that would never come true would help significantly. He needed to let her go. Perhaps now he could at least start that process.

He walked through the trees that had been planted only a week before despite their ancient appearance. Everything was as it should be. Soon Galvan cities would begin construction to turn this swampy wilderness into a civilized land. Of course, there were changes from the original Galvan Prime. More planning was being put into spreading the populous all over rather than the massive urban clusters that had dominated the old planet's landscape.

One thing, however, wouldn't change between both planets: He was alone, just as he'd always been. The trade-off for such a powerful intellect, he supposed. Everything came with a price; this was his.

He sat down on a rock as his legs trembled from exhaustion. He felt his body give up the fight as he tilted his head back to look at a cluster of stars above him. How ironic that the specific star his eyes landed on was a sun with a little blue and green planet orbiting around it that he'd become increasingly familiar with over the past six years.

He thought he heard someone call his name as the universe went dark.


He remembered vague images of other Galvans clustering around him. There'd been slurred reassurances as if they'd been recorded on inferior devices before being played back to him. Then there'd been a long period of darkness with only brief moments of sensation: a sliver of light from when his eyes tried to open, a noise from some unidentifiable source, a gentle touch that soothed him when ghosts and nightmares invaded the blackness.

Finally, he opened his eyes and saw more than just black and green.

Azmuth looked dumbly about, trying to figure out what was going on. His arm hurt from an old-fashioned IV biting into it to deliver vital nutrients to his badly-abused body.

"First Thinker, if this is going to be a habit with you, I'm going to recommend counseling for self-destructive behavior."

He turned his head to look at Barrnar who stood by his side, the doctor shooing away a nurse. Judging by the rumple of his clothing and elevated breathing patterns, the doctor had been running recently, probably to reach his bedside when he'd started waking up.

"It's not healthy," Barrnar continued. "Your body completely shut down. We even had to restart your heart."

"I'm going to have to reject your recommendation," Azmuth muttered, blatantly ignoring the last part.

A frustrated sigh. "I had a feeling you were going to say that."

The two males were silent as Barrnar looked over the readings.

"We're on Galvan Mark II?" Azmuth asked, mind finally registering that things were much brighter than on Galvan B.

"Zennith's idea to transfer you here once the hospital was finished. You've been unconscious for almost a month, part of it due to us having to sedate you. You started raving to a point where you nearly severely injured yourself when you were only partially conscious," Barrnar explained. "You even managed to break one of my best orderlies' jaw with a lucky kick."

"What did I say?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What did I say?" Azmuth repeated a bit more insistently.

"It was nonsense. Random equations, names, and places."

It probably had had some type of meaning. It was just no one knew how to interpret what he'd been going on about and likely no one had thought to write it down.

Zennith had always tried to understand…

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned his head away as he released that breath as a sigh.

He heard the doctor tapping his fingers against his data pad. "My mate invited you to dinner once you're well enough. I told her it might be a while given the damage you inflicted on yourself by starving yourself and robbing yourself of proper rest. I'm going to be keeping you on clear liquids until I'm sure your system can handle something more substantial, so you have time to decide."

Azmuth took another slow breath, not answering right away. The usage of "my mate" had been a subtle display of dominance, a reminder that he was not a part of Zennith's life. At the same time, it was an expression of fear. Their kind looked for intelligence in a mate. As the smartest being in five galaxies, Azmuth fit the ideal quite readily.

It was tempting to accept Zennith's willingness to reach out to him despite everything. His heart ached with the need to say "yes".

"No," he said at last. "I don't think I will be joining you both."

He had to do what she'd done: He had to cut her out of his life or he'd be tempted to try and rekindle what they'd once been, effectively destroying what happiness she'd found for herself. He couldn't do that to her.

"Are you sure?" The question was said with concern.

"I'm sure. Tell your mate I appreciate the offer."

'I surrender. She's your mate, not mine.'

Barrnar sounded relieved even as he said, "Sorry to hear that. I'll let her know."

Azmuth didn't respond, waiting for the doctor to leave. Yet the other Galvan's presence remained at his side.

"I meant what I said about counseling, sir," Barrnar said more gently. "Think about it at least."

Again, Azmuth didn't respond. However, he did open his eyes to stare out the window to see a tower sprouting up from the ground: his future lab and home, a reminder that he had to keep moving forward and pick up the pieces of his own life as Zennith continued hers without his interference.

He sighed, closing his eyes again as he let himself drift back to sleep. Maybe when he opened them again, he could take those first steps.