It had taken days to convince Rosie nothing was wrong with her daddy. His parents had to help. Janna and friends had to help. She hadn't seen anything but she had heard some of it. These…issues were mostly kept under wraps, but only those closest in his social circle knew about them. He didn't quite get a choice in explaining anything.

At first it wasn't an issue. Just nightmares everyone—himself included—thought would pass. Yes, poor little Marco, grieving, but give it some time. And in giving him time, the nightmares became night terrors. A little worse now but hey, it was nothing they couldn't deal with. Give it a little more time. Now there were brief moments of disconnection. Sensations of being grabbed or threatened. Random panic attacks. Maybe time to see someone about that but he resisted the idea—he wasn't crazy, and more so didn't want to talk about Star or any events associated with her. More time. A few seconds stuck in a flashback of Star's final moments. He didn't tell anyone about those until even later. Flashbacks became longer, more detailed. Replaying Star's words telling him to go back to Earth when he had questions. Reliving his abduction, wondering if Star had ordered this to bring him to Thagerie for unknown reasons, not knowing if he would see his family or her ever again, fearing for his own life before three extremely powerful people who clearly wanted him dead, confused, scared, angry, frustrated, sad, uncertain, nervous. Would probably be a really good idea to see a professional. No, he could handle this himself, he wasn't fine but he didn't need some shrink.

But then everything was a prolonged threat between fairly short intervals. Any semblance of reality melted away. A constant state of vigilance, expecting anyone to attack from anywhere at any time because they did. If he slipped too far he wouldn't even remember Rosie's name. And Star. Star would die in front of him all the time, in various ways, some far more gruesome than others. It put him on edge even more. The wake-up call that sent him straight to a psychiatrist was when he had stuffed Rosie, as an infant, in his closet and guarded it, genuinely convinced that his parents were Thagerians seeking to harm her. Only when he realized that the threat here was him did he beg for professional help.

Cue tests, therapy, antipsychotics, and two different types of sedatives. Despite never having actually seen Star die, or how, his imagination wouldn't let go of the fact that she did die and instead began to formulate different scenarios that would later extend to him acting on projections that only he could see. Some psychological thing that he was told meant his mind was unable to make sense of what happened, even though it had been explained the same day Star died.

PTSD was the final diagnosis, just because he didn't stick around to watch Star be killed in public for a mistake they both made.

The drugs worked, eventually. Bringing Star up was a trigger for a panic attack so he kept some of those little helpers on him at all times, just in case, and took a specific dosage of antipsychotics each morning. It took a while for those to start working, so he was also prescribed a stronger sedative to help take care of the more extreme reactions, when he was too agitated to be reasoned with or sometimes even completely lost in a different world he had constructed. That was left to his parents. It was simple. Just a quick injection into muscle when they realized what was going on, and he was out minutes later. No threats to anyone and he could wake up snapped back into the real world. It was generally considered a last resort but it was used somewhat frequently before the primary drugs took effect. In several cases, he had to be restrained so they could sedate him.

He rarely remembered even half of what happened during those spells. Probably for the best. What he could remember was already violent enough. In the most recent one, he only remembered Star in a puddle of blood, being stabbed in the arm with a spear—which, looking back, was most likely the feeling of one of his parents sticking him with the needle, a little bit of reality managing to leak in and manifest itself as something else entirely—and the king telling him to pray for mercy.

And he didn't want Rosie to know any of this. He'd almost gone a full month off antipsychotics, since even his psychiatrist admitted that six years was a long time to be on those things. How much longer would this last? How much longer would he have to worry about Rosie catching him with those pills, and possibly thinking pills were the answer? How much longer would it be until Rosie found out her dad was so mentally unstable—so insane—that he posed a threat to her safety at one point? And how would she react to that?

He couldn't see her taking it very well.

But for now, he would just keep popping pills every morning instead of brewing a nice cup of coffee like a normal person.

What sucked most was probably the sick leave he had to take from work, and the huge chunk of time Rosie spent with his parents during the day, very often staying there overnight. This wasn't their idea, but when he asked them to take her for a while, until he was certain the drugs were in full effect again, they immediately accepted it. It was never meant to be any offense to him, but the stunts he pulled in the past could potentially happen again if he couldn't stay grounded in reality. He worked from home, for now, usually without Rosie there to pester him about playing or reading or whatever else. He missed that. He could work more easily since his focus wasn't split and he wasn't juggling parenthood, housework, and his job at the same time. But.

He knew she was safer with her grandparents for the time being but it was hard not to think about her and what they were all doing together. How was she doing in school? Was she eating a balanced diet? Did she take her lack of flying to extremes? Did she still love her bike? They were reading her a bedtime story, right? How much sleep was she getting? Were they struggling with baths? Did they need his help with anything?

His parents were perfectly capable of handling children but waking up and either sending her off to play with Grandma and Grandpa for the day or waking up without her at all was stressful. Not picking her up from school, this time more by force than choice, was just…wrong. Like none of this was how things were supposed to be. Not for him, not for Rosie, and although his parents loved taking care of her, it couldn't be normal for them either…

Not to mention, he didn't even know what to do with himself after he was done with work. He was so used to cooking her favorite meals for dinner. So used to having someone sit across from him at the table, making a mess with crumbs, and yammering about her day. So used to telling her to chew with her mouth closed and wipe her face after dinner. The whole house was so…empty. He could relax now and that was nice, but at the end of the day it wasn't what he wanted.

It had only been a week since Rosie's birthday and he had wanted to wait at least a month with no incident—and if there was an incident, the timer would reset—before returning to a normal lifestyle that included Rosie again.

Naturally at that last thought, another incident did happen. This time instead of a gentle opening and closing of the front door, followed by slow footsteps off in that direction, the door flew open. He could hear the lock break. He laughed bitterly as two armored guards—Thagerian, of course—barreled into his house, parting to stand on either side of the door. Spears were held straight at their sides.

Always with the spears…always.

"And cue Star…" he muttered to himself.

It wasn't Star who came through the door but her fiancé did. Wonderful.

"Hello," the latest hallucination said. "I take it you're the master of the house?"

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He would just let them walk around at this point. Then when it was over he'd call his parents and tell them what happened, tell them to tack on another week to their little arrangement with Rosie. Maybe use some PTO to stay home a bit longer since his sick days were pretty much up. He didn't want to tell his employer what happened but he also didn't want to drive until he was over all this.

"My apologies," the prince said. "I seem to have forgotten your name. It's been…quite a while since we last…err, met."

Yup. Years, in fact.

He settled himself on the couch and turned on the TV. Perhaps if he didn't interact this time… No matter what happened, maybe he could just hang onto the anger and frustration that kept festering from last time, and the consequences of his own voluntary decision to stop taking his medicine. His arm still hurt from how tense he was when his dad stabbed him with a needle…

"How DARE YOU!" one of the guards said.

That guard tried to rush him, with the spear pointed directly at him of course because WHY NOT, and stopped in front of him, holding the spearhead just a hair away from the side of his head.

He felt his heart skip a beat or two but he pushed back against the fear by chanting in his head that all of this was fake and nothing could actually touch him.

"Apologize for your insolence now!" the guard shouted.

"Sure, just…block the TV, I don't mind…" he mumbled to himself under his breath.

He repositioned himself to look past the guard and focused as much of his attention as he could on a documentary about dolphins. One of Rosie's many favorite animals.

"We arrive in his dimension and residency unannounced," the prince growled as he grabbed the spear and yanked it away, throwing it behind him, "after breaking his door and intruding on his home, and you want him to apologize?!"

"He's only a feeble peasant, your majesty," the guard said.

Wow. His mind was really going out of its way this time.

"This is not Thagerie and I do not rule here. I could be just as much a peasant on Earth as he is in Thagerie," the prince retaliated. "You would do well to remember that."

So noisy. He turned the volume up.

It wouldn't be the first time his hallucinations fought but usually they fought over what to do with him or Star.

The prince soon blocked the TV too and he scoffed in aggravation. They were becoming so hard to ignore now, going to great lengths to constantly be in his line of sight. Constantly be the center of his attention.

The prince kneeled before him on one knee and bowed his head. "Please forgive our intrusion. I have an urgent matter I must discuss with you."

Suuuure he did. How urgent, hm? Star's public execution? Was he about to be transported to some colosseum to…watch…uh…Star be a gladiator? Or something? Maybe he could just close his eyes and plug his ears and pray it would be over quickly.

"The princess said…she said your name was…M-Melvin…?" he stumbled. "Ah…Marvin? No?"

He felt an eyebrow twitch in annoyance as he turned the volume up even more.

"Menco…?" he continued. "Melco?"

He dropped his head and rubbed his temples, so tempted to just say his name and be done with it.

"I apologize for my ignorance. I only recall the princess saying your name twice before, but on a day I hate to remember."

"MARCO," he growled. "It's MARCO. Leave me alone!"

Any other time he wouldn't have allowed himself to lash out but here? This? Now?

"Marco. Yes, I remember now," the prince said. "Please, Marco, I beg your permission to converse."

"I refuse to hear out the man who let Star die…" he grumbled. "Might as well have killed her himself…"

"I…I understand. You're right. I never wanted her to die, I swear it! I—"

"Shhhhhh…" He held a finger to his lips. "Everyone can just…shoo."

"I didn't want this ending for—"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." This time he held his finger out to the prince. A sassy gesture out of suppressed rage. Hallucination or not, this man opened the portal and planted the idea in Star's head to force him back to Earth without her. Never even gave him a chance to fight. Never gave him a chance to negotiate. Just…accepted her death as normal and didn't care. The prince probably didn't kill her directly but in his eyes, it was the same thing. Like hiring an assassin but saying you weren't at fault.

"I…I can prove myself. I can show you," the prince said. "May I?"

Marco laughed sardonically. They were so over the top. So distracting. All he wanted to do was watch a dolphin documentary before it ended, to do something that he normally would've done with his daughter beside him. It didn't seem like much to ask.

"Go ahead," Marco dismissed.

The prince stood up and walked off to someplace else, followed by the two guards. Finally…

Wait. The door. He rolled his eyes. Until the door was fixed it wasn't over. Star was probably next up. It was already a surprise that she hadn't shown yet. Any second now she would walk right into the house through that wide open door…

He inhaled and listened to every word of the TV, focused intensely on every movement a dolphin made. He tried to immerse himself in the documentary rather than anything else that would happen here. Here, in his own home.

He settled back into his original position just in time for footsteps to rush in. Only one person.

Here she came…

"This!" the prince said excitedly. "I can use this paste!"

The prince came over to once again block the TV and spat in a small jar of thick, purplish, creamy stuff. Surely he wasn't expected to have that jammed in his mouth or something. Tasting bloody pancakes was bad enough.

The prince thoroughly stirred it in with his finger. Whatever his mind wanted to do this time, hopefully this paste wasn't a ground up part of Star or— He gagged and slapped a mental blindfold over that thought before it could go too far.

"Here!"

Before he knew what was happening, the paste had been smeared on both his eyes simultaneously. He knew it wasn't real but he couldn't not be completely disgusted by this.

He frantically ran to the bathroom and tried to flush it off with water. It was so thick and almost seemed waterproof… Probably wouldn't go away with anything he did in reality, but it wouldn't hurt to try washing his face off anyway.

He snatched a hand towel and smooshed his whole face in, scrubbing like he was trying to rub off all the skin on it. Particularly his eyes.

It couldn't have been any less than a full two minutes before he brought the towel down to see what his face looked like in the bathroom mirror.

But instead of a mirror, his parents were sitting at a table with a chicken casserole on plates in front of four chairs. So was he. As he looked around, he realized he was in their house now. The towel he had been holding was now a napkin…somehow. His parents were…they were so much younger now, or at least they looked that way.

He put the napkin-towel on the table and continued observing, somewhat dazed from being dragged out of his house and into this…alternate world? Maybe?

He leaned forward towards his mother.

He could see every strand of her hair. Every slight line across her face. The starbursts of two slightly different colors in her eyes. The glaze over her pupils. The natural cracks in her lips, covered with lightly applied lipstick. Even down to the powder of her makeup…

There was way too much detail here.

He rubbed his thumb over the wooden table. It felt just as detailed as his mother looked. The tiniest little wrinkles in the wood, where the sanding couldn't completely get rid of the minuscule crevices.

"Uh…Marco, are you okay?" his mom asked.

"Y-Yeah…" he softly answered.

He was usually able to tell how fake something was by the amount of detail put into it. When Star was bleeding out last week, the blood didn't reflect any light and there was way too much of it. It seemed to target him. When he was stabbed with a spear, there was no blood. And in the past there were those same types of inconsistencies. Normally he wouldn't even look for them but this was…lucid, almost? Everything, even their voices, were realistic. Nothing was glossy or glazed over. He couldn't…actually differentiate reality this time. Why? And why a peaceful setting? This was a first…at least that he could recall…

"Raphael, can you get Star down here please?" his mom asked. "I've called her twice now."

Well, detailed or not, the few seconds of peace here were nice while they lasted…

He braced himself for whatever violent end his imagination had in store this time, and tried not to remember any of the past ones.

His dad stood up but sat back down as soon as Star ran to the table, taking a spot next to him as she always had in the past.

"Sorry, Mrs. Diaz, I had to do something real quick," she said.

"It's fine. We made you a plate, dig in now," his mom replied.

Choking to death, maybe? Was that what it was?

He watched her eat and noticed that she seemed kind of jittery. Like she didn't want to be here right now. Not at the table with his family or maybe not with him. But also like she might've been hiding something. Or his imagination was at play again and she was fine until she died.

She looked at him staring at her and his eyes snapped to his plate. He started swishing his food around with his fork. The food smelled normal—appetizing, actually—and it looked okay. He nibbled on it. Tasted exactly like the the chicken casserole his mom used to make.

What in the world…

"Marco, are you sure you're okay?" his mom asked again.

"I'm fine. I think I'm just tired," he answered. Tired of being trapped in his mind.

He shoved a full bite in his mouth.

"Star…are you okay?"

Ah. Here it was.

He looked the other way.

"I'm okay," Star replied.

Yeah. For now.

He focused everything into both finishing food that wasn't real and ignoring any conversations. And where was Rosie? Was she not in here? It was already pretty rare for him to see her here. Which, thinking about it now, was a good thing. He already saw Star die, if he saw her too…

Dinner eventually passed. Everyone moved on. As an attempt to avoid Star entirely, he claimed to go to bed early. If he could sleep in this world maybe he could wake up in the real one. Maybe it was a kind of exit.

But why was it peaceful? Sure, Star seemed a little off, but nothing actually happened here. She was physically fine. Why hadn't she died yet? Was this going to be a slow death? How long was this going to last?

He tried to snuggle under the covers in case Star randomly popped into his old room on a noose, as she had the night before Rosie's birthday. Ironically, it was that afterthought that kept him awake. Or maybe he went to bed too soon and couldn't get to sleep. Either way he ended up lying there for hours. Hours.

He was barely on the verge of consciousness when he heard rapid footsteps coming out of the room next to his. Star's.

At first he expected a midnight snack or a drink of water, but instead heard the bathroom door slam closed. It was almost immediately followed by one gag and a splatter.

His younger self would've been grossed out but after raising a child from infancy…no, not anymore.

So then illness would be the cause of death this time, perhaps?

He didn't want to listen to all that but he couldn't help overhearing it. The bathroom was so close to both their rooms and Star didn't have the fan on. Probably didn't have the time to make a stop on the way to the toilet.

He waited for it to stop and tried to tune it out in the mean time, eventually falling asleep.

He woke up to the dimmest rays of sunlight. The gray window as the sun was still climbing into the sky, the light just reaching her bedroom.

Wait, why hadn't his alarm gone off?

He shot upright and threw the covers off. Working from home or not, the company had an employee website with a clock-in feature that forced him to work on time as if he was in the office.

Plus he still had to get Rosie up and ready for sch-

This was his old bedroom.

His job didn't exist here. Rosie didn't exist here.

And he woke up here. There had been a passage of time.

Time existed here.

What was going on? Why hadn't this thing ended yet? Where was he at in the real world? What if his parents were coming by to drop Rosie off? What if they were calling him? What if he couldn't hear the phone? He couldn't answer. He already hadn't seen Rosie in three days—well, not entirely true but giving her a bath, cooking dinner, putting her to bed, and then getting her ready for school only for her to be picked up by his parents that same day and spending two nights with them while he visited after his shift ended…it felt like he really hadn't seen her at all.

He noticed he was also in his old pajamas, even though he hadn't changed his clothes last night. Didn't feel the need to since he assumed sleep would be his ticket out. Or, hoped it would be anyway…

He was also…hungry. Another first.

Maybe this was just him reliving the past…? Instead of the usual violence and blood and pain and whatever else, maybe now his mind was still being weird but giving him a break? Maybe?

He decided to scope the surroundings a little more before heading downstairs. Nothing had changed though. Not with his room, not with the stairs, not even with the—

He had to stop before he even reached the kitchen, feeling a burning gaze entirely on him all of a sudden. There were several questions but the one he focused on most was, who would be up at this hour? He was used to waking up early because of Rosie. But this was the past world…Rosie didn't exist and neither did his current sleep schedule. Or his old one. Whichever it was supposed to be here.

He bit his lip and turned his head to the side. Star was sitting at the table with plain saltine crackers and a glass of milk in front of her. Staring so angrily at him. Just…absolutely steaming. But silent.

She hadn't been feeling well last night so the crackers made sense, they were probably easier on her stomach, but milk was asking for disaster.

He wanted to ignore this. It was just another illusion. It wasn't real emotion. It wasn't a real person. It wasn't even real food.

He continued into the kitchen to fix himself some fake cereal. But. Star was…really difficult to just ignore. She wasn't saying a word but it felt like he was in deep trouble. What did he even do? He just woke up!

He dared to approach the table with his bowl and he swore it felt like opening the oven to check on the chicken. A blast of heat.

Why wasn't she saying anything? He was sitting directly across from her.

He nervously took a bite.

"Really?" Star growled. "You do that now?"

He looked up at her and swallowed. Hopefully he looked as confused as he felt.

"You couldn't have grabbed an orange, huh?" she continued. "Had to be the crunchiest thing in the whole world."

"I-I don't understand…" he said.

"And why can't you just have a normal milk to cereal ratio? You have, like, double the milk or something."

There was a ratio?

"Why do you always do these things?" she huffed.

"Wha… You have milk right there," he said in defense.

He shouldn't have said anything.

"Oh!" she scoffed. "I guess now you're going to just monitor everything I eat?! Sorry I had one glass of milk, sir, won't happen again! Why don't you choose breakfast! But hey, make sure it doesn't have any milk! Milk's all yours! No milk for Star!"

Real or not, why was she straight up blasting him out of nowhere?

"I don't care if you have milk, Star," he said.

"Maybe these crackers aren't up to your standards either!" she continued to rant. "I should get an apple, or wait, that might be too much too. Might go too well with the milk!"

"Why are you obsessing about mil-"

"Oh now I'm obsessive, okay! Truth finally comes out! You know what? Can't complain about pickles!"

She stormed over to a cabinet in the kitchen.

"What, no, Star, I didn't mean eat a pickle, the crackers are fine."

"Not fine enough for you!"

How did this even go from milk to pickles?!

"You're going to make yourself sick with all this. You don't even like pickles!"

"I do now!" she shouted, popping open the pickle jar and grabbing a whole pickle out.

"Star, please, don't eat th-"

"Hope you're happy with yourself, Diaz!" She took a huge bite. "Just remember who made me eat this stupid pickle!"

"You made you eat that stupid pickle!"

She threw her arms up.

"So now my food of choice is stupid to you! Nice to know."

"I— No, it isn't— Look, if you want to eat pickles—"

"Nobody wants to eat pickles, Marco!"

"Then why are you eating a pickle?!"

She just sat back down and aggressively took another bite, glaring at him in silence again.

He was honestly too afraid to say anything else at this point, or even take another bite of cereal. He didn't want a drink or anything.

He wanted a drink even less when Star swallowed the bite of pickle and washed it down with milk. Just chugged it down and then kept eating the pickle. It was sickening. She was going to wreck her stomach later…

He sat and watched in disgust as she finished this unorthodox breakfast—if it could even be called that. So gross. Rosie went through a phase where she would make her own food creations and pretend they were amazing, but she didn't come close to pickle milk.

He doubted anyone had…

Once she finished, she rinsed her cup out in the sink and stomped up the stairs to her room. Not only did it leave him stunned but upon seeing that breakfast combo, his appetite was entirely gone. The very thought of eating anything now was nauseating.

He heard his parents come in as well. It was possible they'd heard Star snap and decided to stay in bed for a while longer to avoid the crossfire, or maybe they would get up later than he remembered. Maybe Star got up later too, and she just had a hard time sleeping through last night so she came down early to try to settle her stomach first. With milk…

Maybe he talked in his sleep and said something to tick her off…?

"What just happened…?" he mumbled to them.

Maybe if they knew…?

"We heard you two fighting and, well…" His dad laughed uncomfortably. "We decided to stay out of it."

"We didn't even fight!" he said. "I came to get some breakfast and she bit my head off!"

"Did she mention why she was upset?" his mom asked.

"Yeah, sorta…I think… She hated it when I started eating. I'm not kidding when I say I only had one bite of cereal and it set her off."

"Which is starting to get soggy, by the way," his mom said.

"It was weird. She was so unreasonable, nothing she said made any sense! She said I forced her to eat a pickle and didn't want her to have milk."

"And…did you want her to have milk…? Or uh…tell her to eat a pickle…?"

"Of course not! I don't care if she has milk and why would I ever make someone eat a pickle for breakfast? I lost my appetite because of that pickle…" he muttered.

It wasn't much longer before they all heard the bathroom door shut upstairs. This time the fan was on and they were all too far away to hear it, but he at least knew that pickle wasn't staying down. Even if she still drank the milk, why didn't she just stick with the crackers?

And he wasn't doing much better by not eating anything. Still. All he could think about was a pickleshake.

He excused himself from the table and ended up wasting his poor breakfast. A little voice kept nagging him about his medicine but what medicine? If Star was still alive then he wasn't taking it yet so it wouldn't be here. Neither would his house, and of course neither would Rosie.

It was so weird to just not have her here. Never did he think he would miss some alone time but even with all these people around him—fake but still company—the house still felt so empty. He was a little too alone. He kept telling Rosie that a baby bird had to stay in the nest but now there was no baby bird in the nest.

It was just him now.

With nobody to protect.

Nobody to care for.

Nobody…at all, really.

Maybe his brain wasn't imagining Star's death, maybe he was so pathetically lonely he was making up his own company. The concept didn't seem all that far-fetched, especially considering Star normally would've died by now. At best she had a stomach bug.

Maybe he could stand to enjoy this one. It wasn't too often that he could enjoy some sliver of peace in these pretend worlds. Maybe, if this was all in his head anyway, he could flip on the TV and relax with his favorite shows. He could…maybe practice karate? Wow. When was the last time he'd stepped foot in a dojo…? Had to be years. Had to be before he was accepted into ECU. That was a really long time ago.

He loved karate. Hadn't been able to practice it between childcare and work though. But now this was his world. Even if he couldn't do it in real life, this was a pretty good opportunity to. Could bring him back to the good old days at the strip mall dojo. A sensei, a rival, a monster arm…which was Star's doing.

Nope. His fake parents were eating and fake Star was upstairs vomiting.

He sighed and sunk into the living room couch. TV was turned on and after surfing, the channel was eventually turned to a Mackie Hand movie. There. Best of both worlds, and he loved Mackie Hand but he hadn't seen any of the movies in forever due to the violent content. Nice little treat coming from his mind.

But…why was the movie so…accurate? He shouldn't have been able to remember every scene, every line, every note of every soundtrack so well. It was like he was watching the real thing. Maybe this was something he should be worrying about but…it was really cool to just chill in the past. This past. The good part of it, minus Star screaming at him for no reason.

He checked the guide and was pleased to find out the station was running a Mackie Hand marathon for the rest of the day, the trilogy set to repeat. He was lucky enough to start only a few minutes into the first movie.

Eh. Practicing karate could wait until later.

Oh! Duh.

He hurried to make some popcorn but made it back just in time to catch a commercial. He had already seen the movie a hundred times but still…

He became so absorbed in the movie marathon that he hardly realized how many hours in the day had passed. By the time the third movie was over, the sun was setting and his parents were…well, somewhere. He hadn't paid too much attention to their whereabouts and they hadn't bothered him.

And Star was…

Where was she? He didn't keep track of her either but he had been snacking on popcorn, surely she had come down once or twice to get some food. Eat another pickle for lunch or something just to spite him…

Was she still sick, maybe? He knew she'd had a rough night and an arguably rougher morning, what with the milk she used to wash down the pickle. She was probably resting.

He wanted to ignore it. She wasn't even real. But…even fake, at least she was still alive, and as embarrassing as it was, he couldn't help but feel sympathetic.

He sighed and gave into the lack of logic, getting up and making his way to her door. He knocked lightly so she wouldn't wake up if she was asleep, but could hear and respond if she was awake. And for a moment, nothing. Only when he turned back to let her sleep it off did he hear a quick mumble from the other side.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Another mumble. He took it as a yes. She could scream at him again if it was a no, it couldn't possibly top what she did to him this morning.

He slowly opened the door and closed it behind him.

"Star, how are you feeling?"

She was on her side, facing away from him, in the dark. The only light was admitted through her one window on a perpendicular wall.

"I don't know…" she murmured.

"How is your stomach?"

"I hate it," she replied.

He didn't quite want to say this was an unusual response given how she'd acted earlier, but…

"Do you want anything to eat?" he asked, coming to sit at the foot of her bed.

Maybe it would've been better to bring food with him as a peace offering if needed…

"Carbs," she answered.

"Carbs?"

"And chicken," she added.

Uhhhhh.

"I-I can get you some chicken. Do you think you can hold it down?"

"And chocolate."

The carbs and chicken somewhat made sense, as he was thinking something along the lines of chicken noodle soup, but chocolate?

"That's… I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "But ginger ale is sort of sweet, and it should help your stomach."

"All the time."

So…then, was she talking about chocolate in general or…?

Man, these hallucinations were much more uh…expressive than normal.

Star curled up.

"What's all the time?"

She sniffled and muttered, "I made such a stupid choice…"

"Oh… I mean… Well… Milk doesn't really help an upset stomach—"

"This shouldn't have happened…"

"I… Uh, the pickle didn't help either…so…"

"We shouldn't have gone to that dumb party, I shouldn't have made you go with me," she choked. "I'm sorry."

Wait a minute, if he was reliving the past, where was he chronologically? What party? They had been to several before.

He held her shoulder and rolled her onto her other side to face him. Her expression was neutral but she had tears down her cheeks.

"Star…?" he asked tentatively.

"I know we shouldn't talk about it but I just…"

"No, no, we should definitely talk about it." Whatever "it" was.

She kicked her legs out and sat upright. He figured she would at least look him in the eye but instead she stared at her feet.

Star took a moment to wipe away the tears and said, "We went to that party with the Earth drinks and…I-I don't know, I can't remember it but I know we had sex—"

He slapped a hand over her mouth for a second. "Star, filter, please!"

He knew exactly which party she was talking about now. And in the past…or, in the present, in this world, they had an agreement never to discuss that one ever again for the sake of maintaining their friendship. Even memories, even the faintest of memories, were locked up in the back of their minds to act like it simply never happened. It was easier that way. It was easier to ensure nothing would change between them. They could be besties and it wouldn't be weird. They could have significant others without comparisons. It was better for everyone to not talk about that night.

But he never knew Star carried so much guilt about it. Maybe this was fake Star talking, maybe this was fake Star's guilt, but it wouldn't be very characteristic for real Star to have such a simple time ignoring the memory of groggily hitting the snooze button on an alarm in the morning only to turn away from it and see her best friend already awake but completely rigid with shame and embarrassment. And although he'd never blamed her for it, she had been the one who roped him into going when he expressed doubts about the possible risks of a party that big and failed to dissuade her from going anyway.

It was easier for him to talk about awkward things like that now but back then…? The answer was just to avoid the problem entirely.

She pushed his hand away and continued, "We did though, and we're supposed to be best friends, we shouldn't be doing that kind of thing. I didn't mean that kind of fun."

"It's okay, Star. It's in the past. Nothing has to change," he said.

"Yes it does, that night changed everything," she rebutted. "For me…"

"You…don't want to be friends anymore?"

Even if she said no, if this was anything like the real Star, she would strive to still be friends regardless of what she said or how she felt in the moment.

"No, it's not like that!" she said.

She grabbed her hair and pulled down on it. Her expression went from neutral to borderline terrified.

"You… We… I…" She kept fumbling around for the right word, further solidifying how nervous she was. Or maybe scared. Maybe she thought if she said the wrong thing, he would be angry. "It's… There's a…there's um…"

Time to initiate dad mode. "Just calm down and tell me what's wrong."

She bit her lip as the rant built up—he sensed it.

"What's wrong is me, I'm what's wrong!"

"What about you is wrong?"

"My hormones are driving me insane!" she cried. "I can't stop thinking about junk food and chicken! I can't stand cake, it smells awful! Why does cake smell so bad?!"

Sooo. Period? Did…did mewmans even have those…? He'd never heard her complain about one before.

"It's okay, Star, it'll pass soon. I'll get you a big chocolate bar when you're feeling better."

"Marco, you and I are best friends…so…" She pulled on her hair a little harder. "…We can't be…like… We just…"

"We're two adults just talking about some past event, whatever it is, I'm sure we can both handle it maturely."

"We're not adults, Marco! I'm only seventeen!"

Well, okay, so technically still just a teenager but old enough to have a civil discussion. Hopefully.

"My point is that we're both mature enough to talk this out."

"You have to promise me you won't be upset because, I have a plan, you don't have to get involved at all."

"I promise I won't get upset."

She released her hair and finally looked at him, biting her lip again. She was very clearly uncomfortable and trying to decide her next words carefully.

He didn't rush her to speak. The distress was all too obvious and he didn't want to add any pressure. She did, however, take her sweet time.

"We had sex—"

"Star!" he scolded. "Can't you say we, you know, slept with each other? Something that isn't so blunt?"

"Well, yeah, we slept with each other too, but that's not— Look…we made one little mistake but it…the mistake was…it had…consequences…" She squeaked out the last word and his heart skipped a beat.

Rosie wasn't gone here.

"I knew it, I knew it! You are upset! I swear I'll take care of this, Marco, you don't have to do anything! I can find a spell or something, I-I can try to make things go back to normal! And if I can't then, maybe, you can pretend I'm not…I-I'm not um…y-you know…"

He leaned forward and hugged her before she had a chance to spiral further.

Fake Star smelled like real Star. Her long hair felt so silky and smooth, smelled like her favorite conditioner. He reached under the hair and felt a unique texture only Star had. It was like a thin but flexible, durable leather with a light waxy coating. His hands moved to her upper arms and her skin was so soft and flawless. Right down to the cotton and silk fabric of her clothes, she was identical to the real Star.

But…in the past…in reality…real Star hadn't known she was pregnant from the start like fake Star. She was always nervous, never ate too much. Still had morning sickness but it was very slight. And the lack of appetite kept her thin. To his understanding she wasn't aware of her pregnancy until she went to Mewni, and only told him after he "kidnapped" her and brought her back to Earth.

But this Star already knew. And she had symptoms, including morning sickness that he had mistaken for a stomach bug. Mood swings. Cravings. And she ate. Why wasn't she like real Star in this regard? What changed between the two Stars?

"How are you not upset about this?!" Star asked as she shoved him off.

Why would he be? He didn't have to take drugs to keep himself sane and he had his daughter back and Star hadn't died this time.

"It's a reset…" he whispered to himself.

"What's a reset? What are you resetting? What are you thinking about?"

He supposed she had a right to be nervous or curious about his reaction. He had initially been thrown into fatherhood without any prior warning whatsoever, so in a way he understood how scary the thought was. But it was a lifestyle he'd grown used to. It wasn't easy by any stretch of the word but it was fulfilling. Yet, to Star, this wasn't normal because he had no idea what it meant to have a child, just like her. She probably assumed he didn't want one yet.

But he was ready to have Rosie back now.

"Can I…can I touch your stomach?" he asked, pointing to her abdomen.

Pointing to Rosie.

"Y…Y-Yes," she answered nervously, leaning back a bit.

Obviously his reaction was keeping her on edge. Did she think he was just in shock?

He put a hand over where he assumed Rosie might be—honestly he didn't know the female anatomy, let alone a mewman's, so he took his best guess.

He suppressed a smile and tried to look genuinely surprised. But this was nice. In the real world he never got to touch Rosie until mere hours after her birth and had never once touched Star's stomach to feel for her. Now it was almost like feeling Rosie alive, and he could feel her before she was born.

"It's down here…"

Star moved his hand lower on her abdomen, right below her naval. He was way off target…

He pressed down ever so slightly, extremely gently so he wouldn't risk hurting either of them. There was a small, hard, round thing in there. Like Star was carrying a rock instead of a baby.

He felt the edges of his mouth try to twitch upwards. He wanted to smile, he wanted to express happiness, but he didn't want to confuse Star while she was already so distraught.

"How are you so calm?" she asked. "Aren't you frustrated? Aren't you wondering what to do now?"

He shrugged. "I don't see a reason to be upset."

He didn't want to take his hand away just yet but he did, only so Star wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

She was fake, all of this was, but he could restart here. He had a clean slate now, he could avoid all the mistakes he made in the real world. He could take care of Star here. Maybe she could give birth in a proper environment, like a hospital, and he could hold Rosie and she would move and respond to his touch. And Star would be the first to hold her, as was always intended. Moreover, Star would be alive and Rosie would have a mother.

"I'm…I'm upset…" she confessed.

"Why?"

The answer was obvious, this whole situation was probably terrifying to her, but it wouldn't hurt to let her explain anyway.

"Because you know exactly what you want but I don't know what I want…I just know I don't want this," she answered. "I don't want this for myself or for you. I'm not ready for that kind of responsibility…"

"It'll be okay, Star, I promise," he said. "If you don't want this responsibility, I'll take it. I…don't want to lose this baby."

"I'm not trying to push a baby on you. I just haven't figured out…anything. It's all a big mess right now."

"Why is it a mess?"

"Because I don't know what to do," she sighed. "I know Earth has its own way of dealing with this kind of thing but I-I don't want that way, but I also don't want this. I've been looking but I can't find a spell that will help. I know I said I have a plan but I don't…I didn't want you to panic…"

"You don't have to figure everything out right away."

"I do, though!" She insecurely held her knees to her chest. "The sooner I know what to do about this the better, I'm just really terrible at planning, I don't want to waste time sitting here doing nothing."

"Well, then, what if I helped you plan? I'm a great planner," he offered.

"No…Marco, I said you didn't have to get involved and I meant it. This was all my fault, I'll get through it."

"That's funny…" he said. "I don't remember you forcing me to drink alcohol. I remember being dumb enough to keep going when I knew I shouldn't. Music pounding in the background. Crowd wildly drunk, us included. I kissed you, you opened a portal to go home, and I willingly went with you. The rest of the night is blank after that, I admit, but it sounds like the whole thing was mutual. And if that's the case then why should you be alone?"

"I dunno, Marco, you're not the one who has to deal with this, you're the one who gets to choose."

"Okay. Then I, Marco Ubaldo Diaz, hereby choose to support Star Butterfly in her trying time instead of running away like a total douchebag."

She wiggled herself over closer to him and leaned on his shoulder.

"Is that…is that a little smile I see there?" he joked.

Well it was a joke but he was also serious. Her lips were starting to curve upwards juuuuust a little bit.

"No…" she murmured.

He slung his arm around her and said, "You know, panicking about this won't get you anywhere. Maybe try to enjoy it a little."

Her head shot up in surprised, which was probably the most normal reaction she could've had. After all the stress she had put herself under he doubted she considered the possibility of enjoyment.

"You get special privileges now," he explained. "You can stuff your face with food and nobody can say anything about it. You can be moody for no reason and have a reason for it anyway. You can take a lot of naps and nobody can call you lazy. Oh! And since I'm the father, you can boss me around as much as you want and I can't complain."

Finally he earned one brief chuckle from her. And that felt good. It was fake but the emotion felt real. Almost like this was time he'd missed out on that he was getting back. Everyone here was so interactive, he could have actual conversations and they would provide actual responses.

Also…how did he not know she was going to tell him she was pregnant? Why in the world did he pin the symptoms on anything else when she had already clarified they had been to the party that he knew she got pregnant at? Or…right after, technically.

"What is your first command, milady?" he asked.

"Chicken…" she said shyly.

"We have fried chicken downstairs."

She grabbed his shirt and yanked him down before he could fully stand up to get it.

"No, not fried chicken!" she said.

"Uh…okay, what about chicken nuggets? We have some frozen ones."

"No, nothing breaded and greasy and…gross."

"Okay, okay, I can still make some chicken. Barbecue? Lemon pepper? What are you in the mood for?"

"You…you can't make fun of me for this…" she said through another bit lip. Her poor lips…

"No, I would never."

Her face was crazy red and she stared back at her feet. "Um…chocolate…"

Nope. Nope, don't make fun of it, don't say a word, act like it was nothing at all.

"Okay, yeah, I can make chocolate chicken. Just one question, how do I make chocolate chicken?"

"Regular chicken, but, you know, ch-chocolate sauce…"

So disgusting…

"I'll get right on that, just sit tight and relax," he said.

He tried to look as casual as possible while he left the room, but he felt stiff going downstairs. He knew exactly what was going on and he was excited to have Rosie back, even if it wasn't real. He was glad that he didn't need medication here. But as ashamed as he was to admit it, he had never taken care of a pregnant woman like this. Not even Star. He had read multiple books on parenting but none of those pertained to pregnancy because, at the time, they weren't needed.

All he had to go on were rumors about these things. Weird cravings, sure. But he'd heard that women only had them to supplement nutrients. Chicken was understandable and with a baby growing, surely more carbs were needed…probably? Yeah. Probably. But what nutrients did chocolate provide? And why was she against cake but fine with chocolate?

Maybe chocolate was more nutritious than he thought…? It was made from cocoa beans and beans were heart-healthy so uh…maybe that? Although he'd never heard of chocolate syrup being good for the heart… Good for diabetes maybe…

It wasn't hard to pull out a couple of chicken strips from the freezer and microwave to thaw them. They were probably better served when thawed naturally but that would take a while. The only other chicken they had was leftover casserole. He assumed his parents weren't aware of Star's little situation so he didn't want to go ahead and grab what would probably be dinner tonight. And maybe Star wanted chicken for dinner too.

He started searing plain chicken in a pan once the microwave thawed out a couple of strips—and already started cooking the edges of them. He wasn't an expert chef but he liked to believe he could cook a wide enough variety of foods to satisfy. Normally he would've added seasoning of some sort, even if it was as simple as salt and pepper. But he figured with chocolate sauce, that wouldn't go so well together.

Then again, even plain chicken and chocolate didn't sound all that appetizing… Besides, he could always add something to it later.

The chicken finished cooking after a few minutes and he slid the strips from the pan onto a plate.

His mom walked in just as he was squirting what little chocolate sauce they had left all over the chicken.

This stuff didn't even smell good…

"Marco, what is that?" his mom asked.

"I'm, uh, glazing chicken strips," he answered.

"Glazing them with what?"

"Oh, you know…just some chocolate."

"I understand that some people want to expand their pallet but, honey, chocolate? Why?"

"I'm not the one wanting to expand my pallet." He capped the now empty bottle and set it aside. "If you'll excuse me, I have a mouth to feed."

He dug a fork and knife out of the kitchen drawer and took the plate past his confused mother, up the stairs and into Star's room. There would absolutely be questions when he came back down but he was looking forward to answering them. He didn't dread what his parents would have to say. He wanted a normal reaction, all the disappointment included. Real Star's circumstances were so dangerous that by the time his real parents found out about her pregnancy nobody had the time to be upset with him, and even after he was forced back to Earth with a baby in hand, he was so distressed knowing Star was going to die that his parents still didn't reprimand him for his and Star's irresponsibility and blah blah blah.

So he couldn't be happier to hear how disappointed they were, he would have loved to receive such a lecture in reality. They had the time to be more concerned about a baby rather than who would live or die depending on multiple choices made by multiple people in a situation getting more complex by the day. The speech he would soon get was a relief by comparison.

"I have returned with your order," he said, bowing like a fancy waiter and holding out the plate with one hand.

"You must be really grossed out…" she replied as she took it.

"No, no, it's fine. Special privileges, remember?"

He was hoping for a laugh—even a little laugh would do—but instead she looked at her food, seeming disheartened…

"Is…everything okay, Star?" he asked.

"Could you maybe not watch me eat? I know it's disgusting."

"It's okay to ask for weird foods right now." He turned around anyway to keep her comfortable. "Nobody's judging."

He heard the scraping of metal against the plate as she cut into the meat. He began to imagine himself eating that but it was still just so repulsive…

"You're not," she said through a mouthful of food, "but no one else even knows…"

He already knew she was talking about his parents.

"Why don't you let me tell them for you?" he suggested.

"No, no, you shouldn't be…not alone, anyway…they're going to be so mad at us…"

"I don't mind," he said. "They can be mad all they want but what's the worst they're going to do? What's done is done, they can't change it."

"I don't know…" she said uncertainly.

"Just let me handle all the stressful stuff. You can lay back, relax, and grow a baby. If you want, we can start making a list of names for her."

"'Her?'" she echoed.

"Oh, uh…sorry. The baby, I mean. Names for the baby."

"Do you want a daughter?"

Yes, sort of.

"All I want is for the baby to be healthy."

And for the baby to be Rosie.

"I…I-I don't know if it's a boy or girl…"

"Neither do I," he lied. "I guess we'll just have to make two lists then."

Pointless to make a boy one but there was no reason Star couldn't have a little fun during her pregnancy. Real Star didn't get that luxury but he could try to make sure fake Star did.

"I guess…" she mumbled.

"So…about my parents…"

"Yeah…your parents…i-if you really want to…or we could wait…"

"I'll take care of it. Just take a deep breath and relax, okay? Everything is going to be alright."

He still didn't look at her, although he had no idea why she was so embarrassed about food at a time like this. He made it, he already knew what she was eating.

He silently went back downstairs and searched for his parents. His mom was getting ready to walk out the door, car keys and purse in hand.

"Mom, wait!" he called out.

She stopped and turned around.

"Oh…did you give that to Star?" she asked, obviously referring to the plate of choco-chicken he hadn't returned with.

"Where's Dad? I have big news."

"I think he's getting ready to grill," she replied. "What's the big news?"

"I need Dad here too."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is perfect."

Except chocolate chicken. He really doubted he would be able to get over that one anytime soon and hoped she would never ask for such an abomination again.

"I'll go get your father…" his mom said suspiciously.

He waited impatiently even though it couldn't have taken longer than twenty seconds to open a door and call a person inside. Even though he was looking forward to the normalcy of all this, he did start to get a little nervous. The excitement far outweighed that but he had to wonder why he was nervous at all. This was a far better reaction than the real one. Nobody in total panic mode, wondering where Star was and if she was safe and the baby was alive at all and spending their days searching and worrying. Each sleepless night feeling like she was getting farther away, more out of their reach than ever before.

"Okay, son," his dad said as he returned with his wife, "what is the perfect news?"

"You guys…"

Wait, why was his stomach about to flip? He was excited…right…?

"You guys are…" Force it out… "You're going to be grandparents!"

A/N

Ooookay, yes, it's been quite a while. I haven't stopped writing this, believe it or not. The chapter as a whole is STILL NOT DONE. And when I realized how massive the single chapter was going to be, I decided to break it up. So far, I've written (brace yourself) 55 PAGES. I don't want it to get too long so this is like 23 of those 55 pages...and honestly the 55 pages aren't close to being done yet. This may turn into a three-parter! (Sorry to people who hate long chapters!)

Side note, I got a new job that gives me a weird schedule and it's exhausting, so I already have less time to write...now factor that into 55 pages. I apologize for not breaking it up sooner though. I truly did not expect it to turn out this insanely long.