Mom and Dad were very, very confused, but still happy to see me. Tearful hugs that nearly squeezed the breath out of me—me keeping my hands very clear—kisses on the cheek, fussing over me like I'd just come back from summer camp, the whole shebang. Apex just watched from outside the doorway, head slightly tilted.

Once I could get a word in edgewise, I took a deep breath. "Mom, Dad, this is Apex. My boyfriend slash parole officer."

They took that… surprisingly well, all things considered. Only a brief huddle, some rapid whispering, the occasional glance up behind me, through the doorway. I may have heard 'she's brought home worse' and crossed my arms, scowling at them. Then they stood straighter, flashed big smiles, and waved him in. "Anyone who brings our daughter home after all these years is welcome. Please, come in!"

Then they backed up a few steps as he squeezed his way through the door frame, scratching the paint with his spikes as his body contorted and limbs shifted to let him fit through the gap. Like a cat, almost. Speaking of which, I could see Kafka hiding beneath the living room sofa, the small black tomcat clearly torn between leaping into my arms and hiding from the apex predator. He'd come crawling back to me when he wanted attention, like always, the furry little shit.

I looked around at my childhood home. The familiar off-white walls, the scuffed wooden floors, the shelves and shelves of knick-knacks and tchotchkes. I didn't think I could handle going upstairs to see my old room without my emotional support monster, and he probably wouldn't have fit in the stairwell, so instead I watched my parents. Dad hadn't changed much—hairline a little further back, grayer, paunch a little bit more pronounced, mustache still big and bushy, like a push-broom nestled on his face. Mom had lost some weight, gained a few more lines around her eyes, her forehead. We had started talking again, after a few years of silence, but this was the first time I'd visited them in… damn. A long time. It was almost surreal, being back here; all the more so with Apex by my side. A dream come true, in so many ways. Even if it wasn't quite everything I'd hoped it would be, so long ago.

Dad bustled around the kitchen, making space in the adjoined living and dining rooms, the only place in the house Apex could lie down comfortably without breaking through drywall. Mom, meanwhile, focused solely on embarrassing me as much as possible.

"You were a cheerleader," Apex rumbled, somehow packing both incredulity and amusement into his low growl.

I rolled my eyes, cheeks flushing despite myself. "Yeah, for like a week. I don't know why they still have the pictures."

"It showed our little girl in colors besides black for once, how could I not?" Mom said, beaming ear to ear. That wasn't fair at all! I had red clothes, and… a broad spectrum of grays. Some whites. Some dark browns. Did silver count? Regardless, totally bullshit.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this again, but it's not a phase, Mom."

There were pictures of me as a kid, blonde curls and fat cheeks. The usual stories told whenever I brought anyone home, almost nostalgic in how long it had been since I'd heard them, but still mostly mortifying. Apex kept glancing at me, as though surprised I had been a kid once. I wondered what he had been like as a child, but every time I tried imagining it I just imagined a tiny Apex, a three foot tall furry dinosaur. My god, he would have been adorable.

And then more recent pictures came out, just as Dad emerged from the kitchen with some hastily-pan-fried steaks, mashed potatoes and a salad. For my main course, I had some veggie dumplings that had probably been in the freezer since before I left, but seasoned and prepared expertly in a very Dad way. We arranged ourselves around the dining room table, leaving room for Apex at the end, his tail carefully wrapped around an ottoman to keep him from accidentally knocking over the china cabinet. For a moment we were all too busy serving ourselves and digging into dinner to speak—fuck, I had missed Dad's cooking—but then Apex tapped one of the pictures with a claw.

"I'm in this one," he rumbled, something odd in his voice.

I looked, and saw a slightly-blurry selfie, my face pale from the makeup and camera flash, unevenly lit silhouettes of a crowd behind me, and the stage behind that. Gold Mourning, in all its glory. "The God King Eats Cake," with its three minute drum solo. Apex's head was raised to the sky, lipless teeth bared in a silent howl. I looked so happy. I'd snuck into that show, along with…

The other person in the photograph beside me wasn't smiling. She couldn't, really. The chitinous shapes I'd given her face couldn't quite flex enough for that kind of expression. But her eyestalks were wide, trying to take in everything, and I knew how happy she had been, that night. Our first GM show, seeing the most beautiful monster in person. The only one she would ever attend.

"Ant," I murmured, and my vision went a little blurry. I dabbed my eyes with my napkin before I streaked my makeup again. I saw Mom and Dad quietly glance at each other and hold hands.

"Hmm?" Apex was looking down at me, curiosity and concern in his white-gray eyes.

I took a deep breath, closed the photo album, laid it on the table, out of reach of the food.

When I didn't say anything, chewing on my thoughts for a minute, Dad spoke up instead. "Anthony—"

"Dad," I snapped at him, and he quickly corrected himself, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"Antonia was a… close friend of hers. They had been inseparable ever since they were kids. He—she was going through a very hard time in her life, and…"

I felt my fingertips ache, flexed them tightly, until the fingernails threatened to break skin on my palm. "I helped her… saved her life. But…" My voice was a harsh whisper, hoarse. Something was caught in my throat, and swallowing wouldn't make it go away. "We didn't stop. I didn't know how to make it all work right, and…"

Mom reached for my hand, and I kept very, very still. She squeezed it once, then pulled away, sadness in her eyes. "They found the note, after… after. It wasn't your fault. They knew what they were asking for." She just wanted to be beautiful. "No one blames you," she lied.

I couldn't look Apex in the eye, but saw him shift, reach out towards me. One giant hand rested on the top of my head, palming it like a softball, squashing my mohawks flat. I couldn't find it in me to complain, even as the claws scraped lightly on the skin of my cheek, my neck, little pinpricks of pain.

"So," Dad said, before I could bolt, or start sobbing, or do something I would regret. "How did you two meet?"

A blatant redirection, but if it was going to keep me from crying I was going to take it. I spoke at the same time Apex did.

"At a show—" "Domestic terrorism."

I paused, then glared at Apex, his hand still resting on my head. Not… untrue, technically speaking. But still, these were my parents. They didn't need to know about the group of struggling no-name villains I'd found, how I'd convinced them that their shot at greatness was one deliberately-poorly-planned attack away. How I'd allegedly gathered a group of small-time thieves, muggers and wannabe murderers to serve as my ticket to this new life. If he tried to spill any more details, I'd… take his lips back, or something. The jerk. Of all the things for him to remember about me!

Mom and Dad exchanged glances, silent communication going on with their quickly-changing expressions.

"...Well, our Jennifer never did think small."

"It's Mera now, Dad," I said on autopilot.

"Lipstick, actually."

"Oh my god Apex no." Apex rubbed my head one more time, jostling me, before pulling his hand back, looking smug. Probably because he was out of reach of my elbow. Definitely considering payback. Take a whole horn off of him this time, perhaps. For private use.

Mom looked visibly confused, raising her eyebrows at the beautiful fucker. He made a little satisfied growl in his throat that might have been a chuckle, then explained, "She gave me lips." Damn right I did. No more little robo voice for him. I started digging into the dumplings again, even though it didn't taste as good as it had a few minutes ago.

"Oh, I see." My mother nodded.

"And a penis."

I coughed right as I had tried to swallow, immediately began choking, hacking.

"A… penis?"

"I lost mine."

I reached over and slapped his arm, wheezing, desperately trying to get him to stop. Mom and Dad exchanged looks again, and this time Mom spoke, before I could recover and try to head this conversation off from going any further. "Well… sex is an important part of relationships. I'm… are you two being safe?"

"Mom!" I stared at her. Where was this when I was living at home!? Had I actually been gone long enough that they stopped trying to control every part of my life and became… this?

"I try not to break too many bones," Apex rumbled, sounding entirely too fucking pleased with himself.

"That's… that's good."

"We have a very good health plan," he continued, then took half of his steak out with one bite, impervious to the laser beams I was staring into his face. Oh, he was going to fucking pay for this later. I'd find a way. I'd recruit Happy Pill or Firecracker if I had to.

"That's... a relief," Dad said, a little uncertain. "I imagine it can get dangerous out on tour, driving around the country." At least Ninny attacks didn't make the news most of the time. I didn't need them worrying any more than they already were. Although I would happily describe one in graphic detail just for a change in fucking topic.

Mom brightened a little, beaming that look she had when she had something she thought was interesting to contribute. "I was a groupie once, you know."

I coughed again, right in the middle of a gulp of water, trying to wash down the dumplings. Croaking, I tried to clarify for her. "You mean, uh, roadie, right Mom?"

Now it was Mom's turn to look entirely too pleased with herself. "Oh, no, I mean groupie. It's how I met your father, actually."

I stared at them, a rising horror curling in my stomach, ice cold. "You said you met while he was working security!"

"We did! He was the one checking IDs at the back door, at the afterparties."

Dad held Mom's hand again, smiling fondly down at her, mustache shifting. "I couldn't let Bruce have all the fun."

So this was what having a nervous breakdown felt like. I regret everything.

Apex chuffed with amusement, sending napkins fluttering. He turned to me, expression pleased as punch. "I don't know why you were worried. Your folks seem nice."

I was this close to pulling my mohawks out with my bare hands. But at least he was enjoying himself!?

Dad was completely unfazed by my despair at these soul-crushing revelations. "What are your parents like?"

Apex just stared at him for a moment. I quickly spoke up for him, despite my own distress. "Dad, he's a cee-fifty-three, he doesn't—"

"They were kind," Apex rumbled, and—wait.

I slowly turned to look up at him. He looked off into the distance, thoughtful, his voice quiet. "He was quiet, but supportive. She had a laugh that filled any room. Very loving, both of them."

A pause, and his whole body sagged a bit, in stages, like a deflating bouncy castle.

"I miss them."

Mom and Dad offered their condolences. I just stared at him, wondering… was he lying for their benefit? For mine? Had I ever actually seen him lie before? Or… did he actually…

Did he really remember?

Who even are you, Apex?

The long, somewhat awkward silence was broken one more time. Mom, reaching over to pat Apex on a furry shoulder, only recoiling a little bit when the cilia reached back, waving around her hand.

"I'm sure you two would be great parents."

That got Apex to snap out of his daze, first staring at them, then slowly panning his head to look at me. "Um."

"You're still young, J—Mera," Mom continued, shattering what little was left of my brain to pieces. "Your father and I wouldn't mind seeing some grandkids someday, you know. I'm sure—"

"Hey Mom, Dad, it's been great but we've got to go!"

It was a long drive back to camp. The van was large, riding low on its suspension, and cramped. Apex's head leaned out over the front row of seats, looking out the windshield, his body curled up into a space too small for him. He fits, he sits.

"They were nice," he said, as I tried not to get lost on the freeway, now that the sun had set and what few landmarks I was trying to use for reference were hidden.

"They're a lot," was all I could say, pulling over to look at the map again. As soon as I put the parking brake on, I felt a tickle of fur, stopped reaching for the glove compartment as Apex's head and neck filled my vision, him snuggling with me from the shoulders up. I leaned into it, blowing a sigh into his fur, which continued waving even after the breath had passed. "Thank you," I said, still slightly numb after the whole ordeal. Certainly drained. But it had been my idea, my thought to bring us closer together, to show him where I had come from, to tie him into my life as much as he'd pulled me into his own.

The whole van rumbled as he hummed up against me in response. He seemed content to stay like that for a bit, and I didn't feel like making him stop so we could keep driving. It had started snowing again, but softly, little flurries dancing through the air, illuminated by headlights. Pools of light and motion in a cold, dark night. Warm, in here, thanks to Apex.

As good a time as any for the next step of my plan.

I reached for the glove compartment again, Apex shifting accommodatingly. I pulled out a small rectangular box, as long as my hand, an inch across. My heart was pounding, my fingers aching, but he just looked down at the box… gave it a long sniff, his nostrils flaring, head tilting slightly.

I held it up for him to take, and his two smaller arms snaked between the front row of seats, his lower shoulders twisting, realigning with a soft squelching sound in the tight confines of the van. He sniffed it again, and looked at me, his eyes questioning.

"It's a gift," I sighed out, voice barely audible. I knew he would hear it anyway.

Long, slender fingers carefully pulled off the lid of the small gray box. On top of the black pad of foam was a bracelet, or a small necklace, depending. Small, oddly-shaped beads of ivory strung together on leather, little etched patterns on the surface. Happy Pill said it was called scrimshaw; I just knew it had been a lot of very precise work with my fingernail.

He looked at it, his mouth opening, then closing. He sniffed it again, nostrils flaring wide, taking in the scent.

Finally, he rumbled, "It's you."

I nodded, clenching and unclenching my freshly regrown fingers. It had been a process, explaining my plan to Black Goat and Happy Pill, but after some cajoling, begging, promising and some light cosmetic modifications to Happy Pill that she was mildly confused at but Black Goat was quite pleased with, the project had come together.

"Carry it with you. So you'll always have my scent," I whispered. A piece of me, to match the piece of him, the tip of his horn digging into my chest on its leather cord.

He was silent for a long minute, staring at the jewelry. I felt a sinking, cold feeling in my stomach, a lead weight settling deeper with each passing second. I hadn't… I had a track record of not… what if he…

"I might break it," he said, his voice nearly as quiet as my own. There was no reverb, no rattling of my skeleton this time. It was a whisper I'd never heard him make before, so faint I could barely hear him myself.

I took a deep breath, then held up my hand. Aching faintly, but unmarked. "I'll make another one."

He mutilated himself constantly. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I couldn't handle a little bit of the same?

With one last look at me, his gray-white eyes unreadable, he tilted his head slightly, lowering it so his left horn was in reach. The one with the missing tip. Carefully, slowly, I tied the strand of beads around the base of his horn, where cilia quickly tucked it into place, unmoving.

And then, gently, carefully, he leaned over and kissed me.

We never actually made it back to camp that night.

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.