All original characters, dialog and situations used from Star vs The Forces of Evil and Moon Knight are © The Walt Disney Company.

— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

All original characters, dialog and situations used from fanfics are © by their respective authors.

VII

Marco stood on the sidewalk outside a nondescript building in Dublin, California, just outside Oakland. A sign above the door read "Crazy Cavalier Clinic."

The clinic, nicknamed "The 3C," had been mentioned to Marco multiple times over the years by army vets that lived in the San Francisco area. He contemplated what the full name of the clinic might represent. In this context Cavalier probably means "an honorable and courteous soldier," so the name's probably meant to show they specialize in treating vets. He frowned. I think it's meant to be humorous, and I'm not used to medical people having senses of humor. They tend to be dour and joyless, that's how you know they're doctors.

"It's unusual, but I guess I like it, it's cheeky," Marco said to nobody in particular. Even if I didn't, it was a six hour drive, so I may as well make it worth my while. He entered the building.

Five minutes later, Marco was sitting on a couch in a small room, waiting for the psychiatrist. Above the door as he entered was the sign "Judgment Free Zone." He had grimaced at the sight, feeling a sense of aggravation that society made it necessary. The room was sparse, painted in neutral tones, with pleasant, nondescript, wall hangings. There were no photographs or medals or any military mementos or regalia. Marco found that strange at first, but then realized that when dealing with "battle fatigue," PTSD, or other service-related psychological issues, such reminders might not be a good idea.

A knock came at the door, then a woman entered. She was tall, fit, and a bit past middle age. Her graying hair was in a short, military, cut, and she had a prominent scar along her right jawline. Marco stood as she entered.

"No, no; no need to stand, I'm not an officer any longer so I work for a living. I'm sure you know what I mean ... Lieutenant Commander?"

"Yes, ma'am," Marco replied.

"Stuff that ma'am shit, Marco, we're informal here."

"Yes, ma'am."

The woman smiled. "Good, a sense of humor is a positive sign. Please, sit." Marco sat, as the woman sat in a well-stuffed chair across from him. As she sat, Marco realized she was missing her left middle finger. The woman noticed him staring.

"I lost it in battle," the woman said. "I stuck my hand out from where I'd taken cover and flipped the bird at the enemy, and a sniper shot the finger off. Rather stupid of me, but, you know, kids. My colonel didn't know whether to award me the Purple Heart or bring me up on charges for dereliction of duty. I think that's when I started developing my admittedly macabre sense of humor around battle casualties."

"I would have brought you up on charges," Marco stated matter-of-factly.

"Would you now?" The woman wrote something in her notebook.

Marco scowled. The woman studied his face for a few seconds, searching for anything that betrayed his inner thoughts, then wrote something else. Marco didn't know if she thought his comment was a good or bad thing, and found himself strangely disquieted that he didn't know.

The woman shifted in her seat, her bearing making it clear it was time to get down to business. "I'm Doctor Trudy North, former soldier and medic, multiple tours, and forever an army brat. Please call me Trudy. You filled out the online forms, so you know my medical credentials and experience. Despite having the forms, I still like to hear information straight from the patient, so I can ask questions and fill in any gaps. It also helps determine whether I'm getting ... consistent stories, quote unquote. I hope you don't mind?"

Marco shook his head to indicate he did not.

"Where are you from? Do you live in San Francisco or Oakland?"

"I'm from Echo Creek, a suburb of Los Angeles, born and raised ... at least until I was sixteen. I moved back there recently."

"That's a bit of a haul. Why come all the way here?"

"I've heard the name of your clinic a few times. Several of my army acquaintances are patients, and I went to Stanford so I'm familiar with the drive."

"Did you ever come here to see the nuclear wessels?"

"In the navy that joke earns you death by bowspritting."

Trudy smiled. "As well it should, I suppose. So, tell me about your life."

Marco proceeded to tell the condensed tale of his thirty years. When he reached the murders of his parents, Trudy interjected, "I remember hearing about that. The story disappeared quickly, even in the military circles I travel. That's a bit strange, isn't it?"

Marco nodded, stating, "Yeah, very strange that it'd be talked about in military circles."

"Is it? Even when some damn swabbie managed to get himself shot up on land, then survived by some miracle?"

"Oh, right, that too, I guess. Never occurred to me I was worth talking about."

Trudy cocked an eyebrow, then wrote something in her notebook, to Marco's annoyance. He continued, "Yes, it's strange that the story died so quickly. My parents were minor celebrities, and the public loves a gruesome murder mystery."

"You were in Naval Intelligence, yet you have no idea why the story disappeared?"

"Correct."

"Must have been because of the aliens," Trudy mumbled, before saying in a normal voice, "Please, continue."

Marco carried on until he brought his life-story to its conclusion, then watched the doctor expectantly as she finished writing some notes. Finally, she said, "You left out the part about how you're hearing voices. Why?"

Marco was surprised Trudy knew, but only momentarily, having forgotten that Jackie, watching as he filled out the online forms on the plane returning from South Dakota, insisted that he call out the issue. Thinking about it, he wasn't certain why he had left it out, and fumbled to find an explanation that didn't make him sound like a total lunatic ... although that would probably be okay considering where he was.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Trudy soothed, as Marco failed to answer. "Just tell me about the voices."

"Voice, singular; a young woman's," Marco replied.

"Does she have a name?"

"Why would I name her?"

"She could have given it you, but if not, it's kind of impersonal to refer to her as 'it' or 'the voice,' when she's so intimately part of your life. How 'bout we name her?"

Marco slowly let out a breath. "Kinda creepy."

"You'll get used to it." Trudy paused for a few seconds, in thought. "How about 'Star?'"

"What? No, that's stupid. Sounds like a flower child."

"Too hippy-dippy for you, eh? How about 'Charlie,' instead?"

"Kinda mannish but ... okay."

Marco took a few minutes relating all the occurrences of hearing the voice, or seeing the woman, that he remembered or had been told about. Trudy finished her note taking, then leaned back in her chair. She steepled her fingers with the index fingers touching her lips, examining Marco with slightly narrowed eyes.

Marco was uncomfortable being stared at so intently, so shifted a bit on the couch, telegraphing his discomfort. He was surprised that Trudy ignored it; he thought, being a therapist, she would stop, seeing his discomfiture.

After a minute or so, Trudy said, "You've been through a lot, physically, mentally and emotionally. The way you presented yourself during the interview, your turn of phrase as you told your stories, suggests you're being very guarded, making it a bit difficult to assess your mental state of being. There are multiple ways we can try to lower the shields and barriers you've built ... in the time we have left, I'd like to try one. Would you be okay with an attempt at hypnosis?"

Marco snorted. Noting Trudy's immediate scowl, he explained, "It's not that I'm doubting you, specifically, but there have been multiple attempts over the years to hypmotize me, and they didn't work."

"I'm professionally trained, Marco, trust me."

"Believe me, so were they, and ... um ... actually, I'm not allowed to talk about them. I'm sure you understand."

"I do, but you should understand nothing you say leaves this office. But I won't press; I know from my own military background that keeping secrets is not just about orders, but also a matter of honor."

"Thank you. I doubt it will work, but let's give it a try."

"Other than State Secrets, it should help you reveal things you otherwise might not be comfortable talking about. That's kinda the point, in some ways. Is that okay?"

Marco hesitated, then, quietly, said, "Yes."

A few minutes later Marco was reclined on the couch, finishing the relaxation and breathing exercises Trudy had put him through. "Now," she said, "we need a phrase that will break your hypnotic state, waking you with full memory of what we discuss. It should be meaningful, one that can cut through your entranced state." They each suggested a few, until Marco dredged one up from his memories that he was sure would get enough of a rise out of him to wake him.

"Let's begin," Trudy said. Soon, she successfully induced a hypnotic trance. She began her probing, suggesting, "Tell me about the first time someone died under your command."

Marco had not shared much about his combat experience or mission losses in general. That was in no way of concern to her; reluctance to speak on those topics was very common among vets during their first sessions. It had been true of her, as well.

While telling Trudy the story of his life, the tale Marco told relating his first loss was unsurprisingly thin on details. However, through her contact in Naval Intelligence, Lieutenant MacReynolds, Trudy already knew the story of Marco's first lost man. She intended to use that knowledge to verify the hypnosis was working, by prising out the details he had not shared. She idly thought she needed to encourage MacReynolds to seek some help of his own, or at least take a vacation ... he seemed to burst into tears an awful lot for a military man.

Marco began, "It was my first command without supervision, in charge of a platoon of four officers and twenty-four common soldiers." Trudy scowled at that description, a strange way for a naval officer to describe his command. "We were on patrol when we were hit by a surprise attack. Because of the terrain the enemy had been able to maneuver unseen, so got the drop on us."

Trudy looked up sharply from her note taking. Terrain? she thought. She checked her notes to be certain ... Marco had been captain of a patrol boat.

"It was my fault. We were patrolling as protection against a large band of highwaymen who had been preying on travelers, and my second-in-command warned me we were walking straight into ground that provided many opportunities for ambush. But I didn't listen, thought I knew better, and thought that even if they did surprise us, a bunch of peasants were no match for royal troops."

Now certain she was hearing from what was likely another personality, Trudy stopped taking notes, not wanting to accidentally miss a detail while writing.

"Of course, I was wrong. On both counts. We managed to fend off their attack, retreating in good order against a copse of trees to protect our backs. Instead of pursuing us, the brigands had moved to even more favorable ground, arraying themselves in an easily defensible formation."

Marco sighed. "I was arrogant, incensed, and despite the clear forewarning to the contrary, still did not believe they were capable of besting us. I ordered a direct attack, throwing everything into it, leaving our flanks and rear open. My officers protested but I forced them, and they obeyed." Marco took a deep breath, then said, almost sobbing, "My men were slaughtered. I panicked, couldn't use my magic properly, so they were slaughtered."

Chills reverberated up and down Trudy's spine, and not from the air-conditioning blowing down her neck. The cadence of Marco's speech was different, and she detected the exotic accent she'd heard only a few times before. Remembering the contexts in which she'd heard it gave her another case of the shudders.

"They knew better than to kill me, ransoming me to my parents instead. They didn't get away with it, though; after paying the ransom, my father personally commanded the force that tracked down and wiped them out. All that was humiliating enough, but it got worse. For every one of my men killed, I had to inform his family in person of the death of their loved one and apologize. Seeing their faces, hearing their crying, especially the children's ... it tore my heart out."

Marco paused, giving Trudy the opportunity to reflect on how similar the story was to what actually happened to Marco.

After a huge sigh, Marco continued, "Papa told me afterwards that losing men in battle is an unavoidable cost. I was being taught a lesson not because I got men killed, but for getting them killed by my bloody-minded arrogance."

Marco became silent. Sensing the story was finished, Trudy gathered her thoughts, then asked, "You mentioned that your men were 'royal troops;' tell me more about that ... whose kingdom, and what is your relationship with it?"

"What do you mean, 'whose kingdom?'"

"Well, I don't know about ..."

"How do you not?!"

Alarm bells began ringing in Trudy's head. Marco's voice had become angry, and his tone belligerent.

"I've just met you," Trudy said, trying to placate the personality. "Please, tell me your name."

"What is this?" Marco shouted. "Who are you? I know ... you're a sorceress! Release me from your enchantment!"

Marco began to rise. Unnoticed by Doctor North, barely perceptible primum runes appeared on his hands, faintly glowing.

Fully alarmed now, Trudy nonetheless calmly uttered Marco's waking phrase, "Chicken butt."

Marco awoke, blinking as he looked around, obviously coming out of his hypnotic state. Already partly risen, he swung his legs the rest of the way off the couch, moving to a sitting position.

"What do you remember?" Trudy asked.

Marco furrowed his brow as he thought. "Nothing," he replied.

Trudy frowned. "At all?"

"At all."

"That's ... not good. The hypnotic trance is to knock down your mental barriers, to allow you, if not to confront your issues immediately, at least to make you aware of them so that they can be dealt with at a later time. Not being able to remember is not unprecedented, but it is concerning. It makes our work harder."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I owe you the apology. I should have expected that, given your story of how you don't remember the conversation Charlie had with ..." Trudy paused to check her notes, "... your girlfriend Jackie."

"We're not a couple."

"What? Oh, right, sure. Anyway, even therapists can be overly confident."

Trudy proceeded to repeat the story Marco told while he was hypnotized. "It's interesting that Charlie mentioned kingdoms and magic. Your subconscious could be trying to cope by placing your experiences into a fantasy world."

"I could see doing that when I was a kid ... I was into playing Diggity Dungeons & All That with my friends ... but I'm a little too old for that now, aren't I, doc?"

"People cope in various ways, some more surprising than others, regardless of age. I have one patient in his fifties that sadly writes fan fictions about a kiddie cartoon. Can you believe it?"

"I'm not comfortable talking about other patients."

"Your loss. It's really pathetic and hilarious."

Trudy took a few moments to gather her thoughts, then continued, "It's also interesting that Charlie is female. You've had to be the stereotypical big, strong, military man for more than a decade. Perhaps now that you've retired, you subconsciously want to become more empathetic but don't know how. If you see empathy as a stereotypically female trait, perhaps your subconscious is expressing it by manifesting a 'feminine' personality. Maybe you should try embracing that ... you could even go so far as wearing stereotypical women's clothing, or maybe just a little make-up if that's too demonstrative."

Before Marco could reply, Trudy glanced at the wall clock, prompting her to say, "Looks like we're out of time for today. Be sure to spend some time reflecting on what we've learned and talked about today. On your way out, stop by reception to pay for today's session, and schedule your next appointment. And I do strongly suggest another appointment, if you catch my meaning?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I do. I'm not stupid, no matter what Charlie says."

Trudy gave a small chuckle. She cocked her head, as if an idea had just crossed her mind. She checked her notes, then said, "An idea just crossed my mind, one that might help knock down whatever is blocking your remembrances of when Charlie is in control. You said you sometimes see her, or someone you assume is her, why not try to talk to her? I mean deliberately and knowingly, not like the other times."

"Um ... okay. I'll feel a little silly, but I don't know that it hurts anything." Marco thought for a second. "My not-girlfriend has already seen me talking to Charlie ... hell, has talked to Charlie herself ... so it shouldn't freak her out if I do it in front of her. Well, shouldn't freak her out any more than this stuff already has."

Marco rose, then headed for the door. As he opened it, Trudy said, "Before you pay, take a look at our incenses, scented candles, and other items that help with meditation and relaxation. We sell them at cost. I suggest trying one of the herbal teas. We carry multiple brands ... the Tom Cruise line is especially nice."

After paying ... forgoing the relaxation products ... Marco headed out the door and into the parking lot. As he walked up to his car, he noticed the blonde woman's face joining his in the reflection from the driver's window. He started to look behind him reflexively, but quickly caught himself.

Marco took a deep breath, then, feeling a bit silly, said, "Hello, Charlie. Can we talk?"

The face suddenly became larger, as if it was stepping toward him. He took an involuntary step backwards, both in surprise at the motion and because of the face's expression. It displayed an aspect that most people would consider neutral, but Marco had learned during his work for Naval Intelligence that it was actually telegraphing a coming threat; it was a look hiding extreme anger.

'Are you trying to get rid of me?' the woman asked.

"No, I..." Marco began.

'ARE YOU?' the woman shouted in Marco's mind.

Marco hesitated, then shouted back, "Yes!"

The hidden fury revealed itself, blossoming onto the apparition's face. Her arm and shoulder materialized as she hauled back and appeared to slap at him as hard as she could.

Marco fell to the pavement, gasping in pain, the entire right side of his face stinging like he'd never felt before, his ears ringing from the blow. He rose shakily in confusion, mumbling, "What the fuck?" He looked back to the window as he stood, but the image of the woman was gone.

Shocked and confused at what just happened, Marco exclaimed, "What the actual fuck?"

Echoing in his mind, the voice said, 'Oh, and my name IS Star, no matter how much you hate it, you fucking jerk!'

— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

"Well," Jackie said, "you've had some day."

Despite the late hour, Marco decided to stop by Jackie's to talk instead of going straight home. He had idly thought maybe he should discuss things with Star, but neither her voice nor visage reappeared ... although a slight red-mark in the shape of a hand lingered on his face for a little while. Once they were both comfortable on Jackie's couch, Marco had related what had happened and what had been said ... leaving out the part where the doctor thought Jackie was his girlfriend.

"At least you learned a little bit about the mystery girl, including a name," Jackie stated.

"Learning her name happened after the session so I don't have the doctor's opinion, but I suspect Trudy'll make something of it being the first name she suggested. But whatever the personality's name is, I suppose having a name is not nothing." Marco chuckled. "When the doctor said it could be my feminine side coming out, she indicated I might be comfortable in a dress ... looking like a Disney princess, I suppose."

"I'd like to see that."

"Would you? You'd like to see me in a purple dress with my hair done up in a huge ponytail?" Marco stood and gave his best coquettish twirl. "Would you even call me Princess Marco? Or, I suppose, Princess Star?"

"Princess Marco Turdina," Jackie said, followed by a short laugh. Her smile quickly faded. "Ummmmm ... maybe not. In terms of personal turns-on I'm not a big fan of cross-dressing. I like masculine men and feminine women ... I like to see actual pecs and actual tits ... and clothes help make the man or woman. That sometimes put me at odds with that crowd I once ran with; they would call me heteronormative and homophobic, which is bat-shit-crazy given I'm openly bi. They weren't the brightest bunch in the world ... maybe that's another reason why I eventually moved on from them."

The two sat in silence for a few moments. "Say," Jackie broached, "I was bingeing 'Mando' when your ladyship graced my presence; I have only two episodes to go, wanna stay and watch?"

"I haven't watched the finale yet, so sure."

Both of them enjoyed the episodes and each other's company. During the finale, when the green lightsaber appeared, Jackie screamed and cheered as loudly as Marco. Jackie shed a tear when Luke revealed his face, then cried like a baby when Din revealed his face to Grogu. Both were sniffling as they watched the two Jedi and R2 figuratively ride off into the sunset.

Jackie turned off the TV. Marco looked appreciatively at Jackie, thinking, Guess she was telling the truth about getting into this stuff, she hasn't just been spouting pop-culture stuff she'd heard. Marco started to think about the implications of that, but quickly cut it off. Feeling the length of the day, he yawned, then said, "It's really late, I suppose I should be going."

Jackie walked with Marco to the door. Before he left, she said, "While you've been off playing footsie with two other women, I've been studying. When you're ready to work tomorrow, give me a call and I'll come over; not too early, though. I need my beauty sleep."

"No, you really don't, you're plenty beautiful without it."

Both Marco and Jackie blushed as Marco hurried out into the night.

As always, stay amazing!