Author's Note:
Warnings: PTSD
Chapter Nine:
When Nova finally gains consciousness again-enough that he's no longer flitting in and out as if he's trying to decide to enter a room, but keeps stopping at the doorway-he becomes aware of the smell. It's...medical. There's blood. Beeping machines. Someone breathing, a faint humming in the wall. Dripping.
Everything feels too loud. Bright. Clawing at his senses. Even behind his eyelids, the light is too bright. It must be dimmed, because it's not burning, but it still hurts.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
What is that? There's so much blood. It's dripping...water? Wait. No. That's not right. He and the Witch...they left. Didn't they? There was the attack. And then the Order let them go, and then-then what? Then he landed and passed out and Wanda dragged him and-
Backtrack. That doesn't make sense. The Order would never let them-drip, drip, drip-go. They're far too loyal to Thanos. They would sooner kill him than let him walk. He betrayed their father. He committed treason and-(he's not sorry)-that is an unforgivable act. He must've-will someone silence that stupid pipe!?
Pipe.
Drain.
The cell.
They...they left. They left. He was so certain of it. But how can he be? With that stupid dripping noise!? Wanda. She was sick. That wasn't his imagination, he's certain. Is she still alive? When did he fall asleep-?
Noise. Sound. Threat.
Something shifts off to his left, a leg brushing against cloth maybe, but it doesn't matter. Nova's eyes snap open and he's moving before the blurring colors can focus. There's-things, stuck in his arms. They're yanked out unintentionally as he tumbles off of the-cot?-and slams against the ground, hard. His side aches, exhausted muscles pulling. His breathing strains.
He wants to remain there forever, but he can't. Panic wraps around him like puppet strings giving a harsh yank and he's rolling over so he can scramble back, trying to assess his surroundings with his blurring vision. Everything is bland. White. His arm is bleeding. In multiple places. He shakes it off, pulling himself to his feet.
When he's mostly upright, he sees a blurry figure step into his line of sight. He doesn't know them immediately, but they're too short to be Ebony. That's the last member of the Order he can-maybe-remember seeing. He scrambles to his feet, lifting his hand out and trying to get his voice to work.
It won't, stubbornly remaining locked in his throat.
He hears something move again and breathes out. There's two separate sets of lungs beyond his own in this room. Voices, but they're muffled. All he can hear is that stupid dripping sound. He shakes his head sharply, trying to help the blurring, but it only makes the world spin. He staggers back into something, ramming his hip sharply against the edge of some sort of small table. Maybe a desk.
The voices get louder. The shape-white hair, black jacket, a pair of obnoxiously bright blue shoes-is getting closer. The other, who he still can't find in the room, isn't approaching Nova. Too close. He's-he doesn't understand what's going on. This isn't the cell, but it isn't better. Not really. Why is it so clean?
Drip, drip-
Nova's gaze flits left for half a second, spotting the source of the dripping. Some sort of bag. Blood. Not his. It's a small, easy-to-follow pattern. The slight plop the blood makes every time it falls. Nova clenches his fist and the bag-is that glass? No. It can't be-holding the blood bursts apart, going blessedly silent. Blood spurts everywhere. Someone yelps. Female.
He tries to shake his head again, raising his other hand to his whirring vision. Nothing is really helping. He feels...sick. He thinks he's going to vomit. He can't. Not now. He doesn't know these people, he's not allowed to show weakness.
Where is Wanda? What have they done with her?
Nova pulls his hand back and flicks his wrist, summoning a dagger into his awaiting fingers. He raises it towards the white-no, more silver-haired shape and says something he doesn't understand. He knows he's making the noise, but it's garbled when it reaches his ears. He's breathing heavily. Too sharp, too short. It's probably why his vision is fuzzing.
His side hurts.
The weapon is torn from his grip sharply. He flinches back-he didn't even see the silver-man move, how-slamming his hip against the table again. It's enough to offset his balance and he should have tumbled, but there's the faintest ghost-like feeling at his arms before in between a single blink, he's yanked across the room and deposited in front of another cot he couldn't distinguish in the haze.
He crumples to his knees, unable to support his weight, and the blurring figure-teleporter?-isn't helping. Voices. Still loud. He flinches, not understanding, but not caring, and slaps his hands over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. It hurts. Too much, too much, too much-
'Nova.'
He startles somewhat, but doesn't remove his hands or open his eyes. The voice was in his mind. Telepathy. The Witch. Her voice is soft, as if hesitant, and trying to be quieter than she normally projects. It only makes it seem like she's at the end of a very long tunnel.
'Wanda.' He answers in turn. Something twitches on the outside, and he flinches again.
'Do you know where you are?'
His brow furrows.
'No. Where are you?'
She's silent for a second before answering: 'About a foot in front of you.'
Nova snaps his eyes open and looks up, trying to see through the blurring. There, he can make out her thin face. Green-brown eyes. Her hair has been pulled back and is slightly damp, but brushed and braided. Her face is hollow, but pale and lacking the dirt he vaguely remembers. She looks, well, clean. She's dressed in a loose shirt he doesn't recognize with words he can't read and her right hand is pressed against her right temple as she stares directly at him.
He doesn't remove his hands, but they hold the stare for a long moment. Then, Nova exhales. Oh. They made it, then. None of that was a dream. It feels like it should be. Some sort of strange, realistic dream. But it wasn't.
Wanda blinks. 'You're bleeding,' she transmits, a little louder this time. Less tunnel-like, as if not so afraid of shattering his skull apart if she's louder. 'We should take care of that. You need to lay down. Will you let us help you?'
He hesitates. He knows that he's bleeding. He can feel it leaking down his arms, but 'Who's we?'
Wanda's brow furrows a little, but she portrays none of her confusion when she answers. 'My brother. Pietro. You...know of him.'
He does. Without her consent. Nova blinks several times, trying to help clear everything a little further, then twists around as best he can to look at the other person. The figure. Wanda's brother. Pietro. He's standing a few feet away, muscles braced like he intends to interfere at the slightest sign of trouble. He catches Nova's eye for a moment, doing a quick parse of Nova's expression with a closed off one of his own.
But one needs look no further than his rigid shoulders to know he's anxious.
Nova swallows thickly, and slowly turns to face Wanda again. 'I think I'm going to be sick.'
Wanda's head lifts, mouth opening as she says something that still sounds muffled and wrong. There's a slight shift of the air behind him before something is placed in front of him. Some sort of lined plastic waste bin. Nova isn't picky. As soon as it's placed before him, he leans over and vomits. There isn't anything beyond bile and some water that Wanda managed to find on the pod. It burns as it passes up his throat, and he coughs harshly, spitting.
His entire body seems to just...snap, after that. His hearing returns to normal levels, the ache of the cuts and various injuries sinking deeply into his senses. His vision still isn't quite right, but it's only a little hazy now.
Nova dry heaves twice before he manages to catch hold of himself and groans, wrapping his arms around his stomach and leaning back against Wanda's patient bed. It's at this moment that he becomes acutely aware of the fact that he's not wearing a shirt. His back tenses somewhat despite himself, but he bites sharply on his inner cheek, refusing to be embarrassed.
There's another flicker and the wastebasket vanishes. He lifts his head, trying to follow the path and only sees Pietro come to a stop, a blue-ish light following him like a trail of his path.
Pietro looks at him. "Sorry, were you done?" He bears the same accent as Wanda, but it's slightly thicker.
"Yes," Nova's voice is hoarse. His body insists otherwise, but has very little desire to continue. He feels oddly lightheaded. And just...strange. He presses the palms of his hands against his eyes and breathes out sharply.
"Are you alright?" Wanda asks out loud, her voice soft behind him.
He wants to laugh. "What do you think?" his voice more flat than he wanted. He sighs. "No. I'm not."
"Hardly unexpected," Pietro says, "you lost a lot of blood. Here, let me help you-" there's that slight buzz and Nova reaches up a hand, snatching the wrist of the Terran before he can lay a hand on him. He raises his head slowly, trying to keep his expression neutral when all he wants to do is scowl. Wanda's brother stares at him, something akin to surprise on his face.
"Strelyat', reflexes," he mutters.
"Touch me and I'll break your wrist." Nova says flatly.
"Nova," Wanda hisses in warning.
Nova releases her brother, breathing out sharply. He closes his eyes and tips his head forward, frustrated. He hearts Pietro shift, then there's the slight jerk in the air before something nudges his knee. He does scowl then, lifting his head and wondering how far his tolerance can be pushed today before he breaks something. Pietro is kneeling next to him, some sort of box in hand. It reads BAND-AID in red, but he has no idea what a band-aid is.
"Look," Pietro's voice is patient, but only just, "you've been unconscious for the better part of eleven hours. Your blood levels are only just scraping against normal. Any that you lose now is not good. So," he lifts up the box, "let me put this on, then you go back to hissing in your corner."
He doesn't need to see it to know of the light glare Wanda shoots her sibling. It shows in the slight flinch of Pietro's face.
Nova chews on his inner lip for a long moment and then, fighting against every self preservation instinct he possesses, lowers his hands. The blood starts to trickle down his forearm, and Pietro lifts up some sort of long white thing first, pressing it against both of the small puncture marks on either elbow. He holds it there, the pressure just short of painful.
Pietro presses his lips together tightly, taut. "We need Bruce," he mutters. The faintest memory, not his, flicks through his head at the name. A man who can summon a creature from inside him. "I'm no good at this."
"Where's Dr. Cho?" Wanda asks.
"Work. She was going to drop in later in the afternoon." Pietro says. The names are unfamiliar to him. He thinks this Dr. Cho is a healer, though. Maybe Bruce is, too. Wanda doesn't seem surprised that the man, Bruce, is unavailable. She and Pietro likely talked...about...everything while he was unconscious. For some reason, the thought makes him uncomfortable.
Bruce. Isn't that one of her teammates for that group she's apart of? A...something. Advantage? Aggravation? No. Maybe it doesn't start with A.
Nova glances up at Wanda, watching them both from her perch on the bed. "Where is everyone else? Your Bruce? Shouldn't there be more…" he isn't sure what word to use. Hassle? People?
Pietro sighs, looking weary. He pushes harder against the white balls. "Long story. Short version? I stayed behind to-I stayed, and everyone else hopped up and went to space."
Nova feels his eyebrows raise. "Space."
Pietro gives a tight-lipped smile. "One of our space friends needed help. It was urgent, and no one wanted to sit around and do nothing." Pietro pulls the white balls back, and squints. When the blood continues to leak, he glances up at his sister. "Get medical tape?"
She lifts her head and he sees a slight flare of red around her fingers before something comes flinging through the air. Nova flinches back by instinct, but Pietro catches something without a problem. He tears off a long strip of the cream "tape" and wraps it around the white ball and Nova's bare skin. He repeats the process with the other elbow, then lifts up the band-aid box.
"When you've graduated, we can use this." He says.
Nova releases a long, weighted breath and looks between the two siblings. They don't look identical, but they share similar faces. And eyes. Pietro's, too, are weighted with scars beyond his years. Nova shakes his head a little and focuses on Wanda. She meets his gaze without prompting, her head tipping the slightest bit, a frown pulling on the edges of her lips.
Her brother's stare makes him uncomfortable, but he forces the words out. "Are you alright?"
Wanda gives a nod, "Yes. I'm fine. As well as can be expected." Every answer she gave makes it seem less and less like she is.
He runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth for a moment, trying to wipe some of the blood from his teeth. "Your leg?" he guesses, and she glances towards her feet, confirming his hunch without ever having said a word. "I can heal it." He says.
He can be useful.
They won't have a reason to remove him yet.
"With what? We have doctors," Pietro says flatly. Nova glances at him for a moment. Still taut and slightly irritated. Nova doesn't know why, and he's too tired to guess.
"I have"-his tongue scrambles around a word. A curse. Magic. Oddly, he wants to say sedir, but he can't remember ever having heard the term before in his life-"powers." Is what he settles on. "Just let me-" he reaches for Wanda, but is cut off when Wanda grabs his wrist. He flinches, eyes flitting up to her. Why is she slanting? She's...no that's him. He's listing to the left.
"Not now." Wanda says. "You can barely keep yourself up. Go to sleep, Nova. We can talk later."
"I-"
"I mean it." Her voice is hard, but he still wants to argue. Thanos only kept him alive because he was useful. The Black Order did, too. How does he know that the twins will be any different? He doesn't...want to die. It's an odd feeling. For the longest time, he's just kept pushing because no one would let him stop.
But the thought of being free…
If they can kill Thanos, then he doesn't have to die.
But he can't help if they've killed him because he wasn't useful enough.
"It isn't too much trouble. Really, just give me a moment and then-" he starts again, but Wanda shakes her head.
"No. No, just lay down. Please." It's the slight pleading in her voice that makes him hesitate, and he bites on the inside of his cheek. He's torn. He doesn't know whether or not to comply with her wishes or fix the problem. Her brother might like him better if he can prove he can do something else beyond get his sister injured.
She gives him another look and his resistance crumples. He gives a nod of complacency and she releases him. He grips the edge of her bed and starts to haul himself upright. He makes it as far as standing before he starts to crumple. Pietro grabs him before he can fall completely, taking most of his weight.
Nova's face heats with embarrassment, but he allows Pietro to swing one of his arms around his shoulders before helping him towards the other bed. It takes some awkward maneuvering, but he manages to make it back onto the bed and still sit up.
Pietro stares at him oddly before backing up and glancing towards his sister. "I'm going to call Dr. Cho and let her know he's awake. You good?"
She nods. Pietro blinks in and out, vanishing from the room, that little trail lingering for a moment before vanishing. Nova follows his path, then looks at Wanda. "What is he? Teleporter?"
The faintest of smirks twitches on her lip. "Not exactly. He's just fast."
Fast? Wait. That blinking in and out he does is just him...moving? That...doesn't seem natural. The Stone's effect on him was drastically different than what it did to his sister. Distantly, he wonders who received their powers first, and if that had an effect on what they got.
"Are you in pain?" Wanda asks after a moment.
Nova looks down at his hands as if that can tell him the answer. He aches a little, but there's no where near the agony that he should be feeling. He stares at the gauze wrapped around his torso and then up at her. He gives a slight shake of his head, and her face crumples slightly.
He doesn't understand why.
There's a lot of things he doesn't understand anymore.
000o000
His impression of Dr. Cho isn't very fond. She isn't exactly nasty, but her professionalism bleeds into every aspect of her treatment, making him feel more like a project than a living creature. She sets up the drips again, (IV, he learns is the name of it) and goes for another bag of blood. The dripping starts up again, and when she sees him grimace, offers to get him a pair of earplugs.
Having spent as much of the examination over doing his best to ignore her, he only glares and doesn't answer.
Dr. Cho pulls Pietro out to speak with him for a moment in the hall, and though Nova could normally hear to that distance without a problem, the stupid plopping of the blood is a distraction. Dr. Cho doesn't come back into the room after that, but Nova gets the impression she'll be back.
Pietro plops into a chair beside Wanda's beside and watches him for a while, one hand idly rubbing against the back of Wanda's knuckles. Nova rolls onto his side as best he's able, facing away from the siblings.
Pietro is still watching him. He can't puzzle out any reason why, beyond the idea that he may consider him a threat. Warranted, given the fact that this entire mess is his fault.
Wanda's breathing slowly evens out after a long time, but sleeping evades him. The blood is the only thing he has to count the time by, and he's bored enough to consider counting by it, but doesn't.
When the Witch is far enough into unconsciousness that he doesn't think he'll wake her by talking, he rolls over somewhat so he's facing Pietro. The silver-haired young man looks up at the movement, and their eyes meet before Nova pulls his gaze away.
Wetting his lips, he has to work to get the soft words out. "May I ask you a question?" Wanda's brother doesn't outright deny him, which he takes as a good sign, and pushes on: "I...has Wanda...explained about me?"
"You're Thanos's child." Pietro says, voice equally low. Somehow, he manages to make the statement seem like a threat.
Nova winces. His first instinct is to outright deny the statement loudly and with violence, but he swallows, "Captive," he says, and the words make him feel awful, but it's the truth. He can't keep running around in his lies anymore, the protection they offered has been taken away.
He was never my father. And I was never his son.
"But that doesn't matter. You know that I...went through her memories?"
He's working up to what he wants to ask.
Slowly.
But the phrasing makes it seem more innocent than it was.
Pietro's eyes narrow at the phrasing, about mentioning what he did to his sister, and Nova wonders what it would be like to have someone want to protect him. It must be nice. He shakes off the thought, disgusted with himself. He's not a child. He doesn't need anyone to look after him.
"I am aware, yes. What is your point with this? Are you planning to do the same to me, but you wanted to ask first?" Pietro's jab is pointed.
Nova's fists clench. Drip, drip, drip, fills the empty silence as he gathers his thoughts. "No. I wouldn't have done it to her in the first place if my father...if Thanos hadn't-" he cuts off the anger, stuffing it down. Pietro is staring at him heatedly. Anger means punishment. He doesn't...why couldn't he have kept quiet?
He catches his words and though he despairs at losing the opportunity to ask the question he was getting to, self preservation insists he keep his mouth shut to survive.
Pietro releases a breath when he doesn't continue, obviously trying to be patient. "Sorry."
It's an invitation, but he's wary.
Drip, drip, drip.
His resistance breaks. "In her memories, I saw a man. I think he might be my brother."
There. It's out. His selfish reason for saving her in the first place. At least, if Pietro is willing, he'll know about his brother before he dies.
Pietro blinks, then tips his head a little, staring at Nova as if he's just uttered something in a different language. Messy bangs fall over his eyes. "What do you mean you think? Don't you know?"
Nova pulls his gaze up to the ceiling, "No. I don't. My head is…" he gestures vaguely, then regrets the decision when a sharp ache shoots up his arm. "I don't have many memories from before six years ago."
Silence.
Drip. Drip-
"Did Thanos do that?" Pietro sounds calmer than he was expecting.
"I don't know," Nova admits, voice barely above a breath. He looks up at the ceiling valiantly. "I can't remember." The admittance of this makes him feel oddly ashamed, but he swallows it down, desperation overpowering him. Without looking at Pietro, or giving the young man a chance to comment on that, he says, "My brother. I think he was here...if he is my brother. I'm...not certain. Tall, blond, wielded a hammer and electricity? Red? Do you know him? Please, he's the only person I have left."
If his brother-maybe brother-isn't here, or even alive anymore, he doesn't know what he'll do.
This is all he has.
This hope that he can find his family before this whole mess is over.
Pietro swears sharply, suddenly, and he sees movement from the edge of his vision. He tips his head and sees Pietro on his feet, anxiously moving back and forth up and down the length of Wanda's bed as he stares into some sort of device, lips pinched together and face scrunched up like Nova just asked for help burying a body. After a long minute, he flicks to Nova's bed, holding his device in front of Nova.
It's some sort of still of Pietro, Wanda, the man in question, and a younger woman. Nova doesn't recognize where they are, but they're laughing. Someone is lifting two fingers to the back of Wanda's head as they stand in front of what looks like a tall, green statue of a woman holding a torch.
Nova's breath catches. He knows that face. The slight crackling next to the eyes, the blond hair swept back. The eyes. Clear blue. He knows him. Wanda's memories were too fast for him to pick out distinct features, but this is like staring into his past.
This is goodbye, brother.
Pietro points at the unknown man beside the brunette. "Him? Do you mean him?" His voice is strained.
Nova gives a hesitant nod.
Pietro swears again, pulling the device back. Nova bites back the urge to tell him to bring it back so he can touch it, as if that will somehow let him be closer to his brother. Pietro clicks the thing off and begins to pace back and forth, agitated. Nova's fingers are beginning to hurt from how deeply he's digging his nails inside his palms.
"Have...have I upset you?"
Pietro shakes his head, turning around to face him. "You don't remember anything?"
"Just...sensations, sometimes. Flashes. Sometimes a few words."
Pietro cusses, running a hand through his bangs. Nova feels like he's shot something Pietro cared for, then left the man to deal with the consequences. Pietro presses the back of his hand against his mouth and bites at the skin for a moment before flitting across the room again. And again. "This is ridiculous," he mutters under his breath.
Patience thinned, Nova questions tightly, "Can you get in contact with him or not?"
It's clear that Pietro knows him.
Pietro stares at him for a long second. "You don't even know his name. You don't…" The hand goes up through the tangled hair again, gripping at it sharply like the pain will help him focus. He exhales, visibly gathering himself together. He rubs at his forehead and groans softly before playing with the edge of his jacket.
"I know your brother," Pietro says, "and I know that he has an assumed deceased sibling, which I am assuming is you." The relief that floods through him at that shouldn't be as strong as it is. Thanos provided-
"His name is Thor," Pietro explains, tone a little softer. "The woman in the photo is his wife, Jane. They...don't live on Earth." Nova's stomach plummets a little with disappointment, "And, unfortunately, talking is going to have to wait. Do you remember that friend that me and my sister's are running out for? Yeah, that was your brother. We don't...know where he is. Or even how he is. I'm sorry."
They lost him.
Nova lost him, after having just found him.
(Thanos lied to him. He said that Nova had nothing but him. Six years he lived in that illusion-)
Pietro rubs a hand against his face. "I think that if you want to see your sibling again, we're all going to have to figure out where the Avengers are. And to do that, you need to contact your...ah, sister," he trails slightly, as if confused by the term, and Nova can understand why, given recent events. As far as Pietro is concerned, Nova's only sibling is Thor. "In order to figure out what's going on with the Stones."
"What does my brother have to do with the Infinity Stones?" Nova hisses. It's odd to use that term and not think of Obsidian or Ebony. No. This time it's for Thor.Thor. A name that sounds so familiar and foreign and the same time.
"I let Wanda look over the message that he left us. Having a context that we didn't, she picked out a term we didn't: Tesseract. It's fuzzy, and we're still not sure about the translation, but if he is referring to an Infinity Stone…"
Horror flits through him.
No. Not so soon. Not now.
"Thanos will be after them," Nova whispers. Thanos will kill them.
000o000
It's the better part of two days before he feels strong enough to do anything beyond lay in bed or sleep. Wanda's leg is still a mess, but he heals what he can when she's asleep and nearly passes out himself. She's at least free to wander now, no longer having any injuries worth pinning her down for. Dr. Cho seems amazed at his progress, even if Nova feels he's slacking.
But with nothing to do but sit in the bed, he's had plenty of time to think.
And thinking is painful.
And worrisome.
He can't stop his thoughts from revolving around his sibling. About what might have happened. How he has family, even if they do think him deceased. Thor. His brother. Pietro must've shared what he learned with Wanda, because she keeps looking at him oddly, with a titled expression as if trying to see the person Thor described to them.
Thor talked about him.
Thor missed him.
Thor knows who he is. (Thor will know his name. His true name. The name that the twins don't, because they hadn't been with Thor long enough to hear him mentioned as anything other than "brother.")
But eventually the restless anxiety has him slipping out of the medical room at the first chance he receives and finding an empty one down the hall. This one is different than where he and Wanda were located. It has a window. Nova is drawn to it without thinking, and lifts up a hand to touch the glass carefully. A city stretches out beneath him, open streets filled with machines and people. And life. There's clouds covering the sun, but it's not stars.
It's...alive.
It's beautiful.
Nova bites on the inside of his cheek and forces himself to focus, pulling up one of the plastic chairs as close to the window as he can, resting a hand up against it as he slowly tugs the communicator Nebula gave him out of his cache.
He holds it for a long moment, breathing. Childishly, he wishes that Wanda or even her brother were here. He doesn't really want to do this by himself. But he's always been alone since Thanos. This shouldn't be any different.
(But it is.)
He sighs heavily and then forces himself to connect before he can back out. His stomach clenches into an anxious knot as he waits, fingers scraping against the glass as he curls his other hand against it. This is for Thor. He needs to know what happened so he can help him.
And the Order. And Wanda and her brother.
He has to know.
He can't use ignorance as a shield anymore. This will be fine. It has to be. He'll make it be.
"Nebula. We only have a few minutes. What do you have to report?" The sound of Gamora's voice is jarring. He hasn't heard it in close to two years. It's lighter, somehow, as if a great weight she'd been bearing had been removed.
Nova lets his breath go. He didn't realize he'd been holding it. "Nebula was fine last I saw her." He says after a moment. But that was four days ago, and anything could have happened since then.
Gamora is quiet, then, slowly, she asks: "Nova?"
"Yes." He answers. He wants to keep talking, to ask what she's doing, what Nebula was doing. To add some sort of snippy comment that will make her feel foolish. But in the end, the single word is all he can get out. His jaw is suddenly tight. Gamora is the only reason that he ended up like this. And she left him.
"Nebula moved forward with the plan, then," Gamora sighs. "She said that we had a few days before she was going to spring you out. Any reason she moved it forward?"
She was-Nebula was going to break him out? He can't see her doing that. No. He can. He's witnessed enough of her stubborn streak to know that if she'd set her mind to it, he would have been free regardless of whether or not the attempt was by his hand. So it wasn't just something taken by chance.
"I broke out." Nova answers, stiff.
Gamora exhales. "I see." There's a lingering silence before she asks with a tone much softer, "Are you alright?"
He blinks, pulling the device away from him for a moment. Why does she care? She never cared before. What is-stop. He can round up all his theories about her being a traitor later, for now, he needs the information Nebula didn't give him. "I'm alright."
"Fibbing, Nova."
He flinches. "I've seen worse." He corrects. And it's true. His side may ache, but it's nothing that won't be fixed with time. And the Other did much worse things than simply shoot him.
"How bad is it?" Gamora pushes.
Will she stop that!?
"I hardly think that my wellbeing is what should be on our list of priorities at the moment." Nova interrupts, mildly irritated. He bites on his tongue a moment later, expecting a reprimand, but Gamora doesn't snap at him. She doesn't say anything. Nova slumps. "I have the Tesseract. Father has three of the Stones now."
"I know," Gamora sighs, "Nebula contacted me after they found the Tesseract a few days ago. She and the Order didn't tell Thanos. She said they were going to give it to you."
They didn't-Nova stops. Of course they didn't tell him. If Thanos had known about the Tesseract, he would have had it. The Space Stone would be sitting amid its other brethren. They hid it. From their father. They hid an Infinity Stone. The Order. Gamora knows about the mutiny, then. Is he the only one that was in the dark?
Give. They were going to give it to him. They'd planned this. They told Gamora. He suddenly remembers Nebula's stray thoughts about keeping him alive. Kriff, how has he missed all of this? (But he hadn't. He'd been ignoring putting the pieces together because he didn't want to have to admit anything to Thanos.)
"Why me?" Nova asks, more confusion than he would care for slipping into his tone. "Any one of you could have left, why am I the scapegoat?"
Gamora is silent for a long second. Then she releases a longsuffering breath. "I'm guessing that Nebula didn't explain much, then?"
"Try anything." He mutters, rubbing his finger against the edge of the window. There's grime that's built up.
He can almost see Gamora nod in exasperation. Or that little head tilt she does when she's thinking. "I would have been surprised if she had said something." Another breath, "I'm not even sure where to begin."
Nova rubs against the dirt harder, trying to scrape it off with the edge of his nail.
Start with my brother, he wants to say, who did you take me from?
"I guess...when I found you six, no it's been closer seven now, hasn't it? Years ago, it was by accident. You'd landed on the Chitauri homeworld, and they'd dragged your body to one of the camps. They were debating how to, ah, eat you. Nothing terribly uncommon, most anything that lands there is already dead anyway, so I was going to let them, but two things stopped me: You were breathing, and I recognized an insignia on the armor you were wearing."
Nova's brow furrows. He doesn't remember any of this. He doesn't even know what armor she's talking about.
"It was of Asgard."
Nova blinks. The name sounds familiar, but from a dream. Not anything he's heard spoken of before, at least, not openly. Wasn't Ria a territory of theirs? "Asgard?" he asks, feeling slightly embarrassed that he needs to.
Gamora shifts somewhat over the line. "You still...no. You wouldn't. Asgard is one of the most powerful worlds within the galaxy. They've been guarding three of the Stones for the better part of two millenia. In short, a formidable ally or enemy for Thanos. They are what chased Thanos to the outer rim."
They-that was Asgard? Asgard is the reason that Thanos has spent the last few hundred years scampering around in the dark and pulling on strings to his various puppets across the galaxy? That's why he was reduced to slaughter of planet by planet?
"I fell from there?" Nova asks.
"Yes." Gamora sounds a little sullen. "You did. I took you back to Thanos. You were a bargaining chip at the time, for Asgard-"
"Me?" Nova says, not bothering to hide his doubt. "Why?"
Another hesitation. "You're...an important political figure."
She makes it sound as if he still is. As if he just stepped out for a moment, and when-if-he goes back, he'll just be able to slip into the place that was left behind easily. It's been six years. Whatever position he had would have been taken by now. That's how the political game works.
"When Thanos recognized who you were, he saw a way to get the other Stones within Asgard's territory. What he did to you…" she trails, and Nova's fingers clench against the glass. "It was barbaric. Understand something, Nova," her voice has dropped, "everyone on the Order, we were taken as children. He molded us as we grew up. He tore you apart and made us watch it. Help with it. I think that's when we all concluded we didn't want any part in this anymore."
Shame licks at him, and he doesn't know why. He thinks, dully, it's because of their pity. Pity wasn't something Thanos did. Much less sympathy. And the Order, the Order, felt it for him.
"But the point is, as the Other had you for the better part of three years, I made plans to betray Thanos. A year later, I left. Nebula followed me. It didn't last. Thanos sent his agents after us, and nearly succeeded in killing us, or dragging both of us to him again. It's exhausting. The only reason I'm still alive is because of my team. Nebula said that we had to remove Thanos, and we began to plan. The central part of that became you."
"Because of my connection to Asgard." Nova supplies, sighing. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, rubbing at his forehead. It would be nice, he thinks, for once, to not be kept alive because he can serve a use to someone.
"If we could get you to Asgard, you could explain what was going on, and they could succeed where we failed. Nebula didn't go back to join Thanos again, she did it to free you."
She did?
"The Order caught her, though. And when they interrogated her, and discovered what she was doing, they agreed to help."
Nebula returned months ago. They've been planning this for months and no one bothered to mention it to him? What if he hadn't agreed? What if he'd been loyal to Thanos, and refused to leave? What if he didn't want to save them? What would they have done then?
A part of him, though, is bitterly unsurprised by the withheld information. When have they ever told him anything anyway?
Gamora is silent, apparently done for the moment, and Nova chews on his lower lip before he leans forward, resting his hand across his legs. "Let me get this straight," he says, his tone level when he really wants to scream. "Your plan to kill Thanos was to send me-a man half crazed by the Stones and essentially memory-less-to plead to a home I can't even remember? Because I'm an 'important political figure'? What even makes you think that they'd listen? Or fight for me? I'm just some citizen, Gamora. Kings don't wage war for that."
His sister breathes out very slowly, then says softly, "But fathers will for their sons."
Nova blinks. "What? Why would my father"-it stings a little, that the first thought that comes to mind is Thanos, not whoever this man that sired him is supposed to be-"do that? Even if he was some sort of lord, he can't exactly drag an entire planet to war because-"
"Nova. Stop," Gamora's voice is harder. "Your father could. And would."
Nova turns his head somewhat, "Because what? He's the king?" he asks it in mockery, but his face loses color when Gamora doesn't say anything snide in return. Kriff. Nova's nails dig into his leg. He exhales sharply, barely daring to breathe. "I'm...my father...my real father is the King of Asgard?"
He's a prince?
"He is," Gamora confirms.
Nova sits back, lips parting somewhat. All this time...he's thought he had nothing. His father is a king. His mother queen. Thor is a prince, Jane his princess. He's royalty. He has people. A world. There's somewhere that he belongs to. Somewhere that would claim him.
Home.
He has a home. Somewhere that isn't a cell.
He swallows heavily, biting back thousands of questions that want to spill from him all at once. Now is not the time. It may never be the time. He's wanted to ask the twins about Thor, but he's never been awake long enough with them present to do so. "You want me to plead with my father to go to war against Thanos?"
Gamora gives a hollow laugh, "Trust me. After everything Thanos did, I don't think you'll need to ask. You've been missing for the better part of a decade, Nova. They believe you dead. Your resurrection will be a welcomed bosom to them."
He flinches. Dead. His family-his real family-isn't searching for him. They aren't waiting for him to come home. They grieved. They moved on. He's dead. But...but he's not. He can still go back. They might still welcome him.
"I keep the Tesseract away from Thanos, and raise an army. That's the plan, then?" Nova tries to keep himself focused. The world feels like it's crumbling. As if he's just been pushed off a very steep cliff and told to learn how to fly before he reaches the bottom.
"Part of it. The only part you need to know." Gamora promises.
He narrows his eyes. "Will you forever keep in the dark?"
"Your part in this will be over when you talk to Asgard." She says, tone flat. "You've already suffered enough. You're not a pawn, Nova. If you must know the basics, the Order is planning a mutiny. We need to keep as many Stones away from Thanos as we can."
They're going to make a bid for the three Thanos does have.
They're going to steal them.
They're going to die.
Nova bites on his lower lip. "I see. Is there anything else you'd have me do, then?"
"No." Gamora says, "Just let me know when you reach Asgard. I'll contact the Order and let them know when to make their move. Be safe, Nova." She lingers for a moment and he chokes on the words he wants to say.
The question that has been burning on his tongue since she said she knew who he was.
If she knows he's a prince, and who his father is, then she has to know who he is.
His name.
"Gamora," Nova hesitates, biting sharply on his tongue. He tries to get the question out twice before he finally manages to make it audible. "Gamora, what...what is my name?" He whispers the last part, shame touching at him. It seems like such a childish thing. To ask. To not know. No, not childish. Treacherous. To reject the name that Thaons gave him, because he wants something else. To touch on who he was before.
My name.
Not Thanos's name.
Mine.
Gamora is silent for a long moment. Long enough that his breath catches in disappointment. She's not going to tell him. Maybe she doesn't know. Even if she did, why would she give it to him anyway? She owes him nothing, least of all his name. "Loki." Gamora slides the syllables across her mouth as if unfamiliar with it. "Your name is Loki."