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.

XIII

Jackie and Marco sat in Doctor Donna Kraft's office; Jackie was smiling cordially, while Marco was using all his willpower to at least appear neutral. Despite having better understanding of each other's attitudes ... Donna had thanked Marco for the gift of the rune and its accompanying note as they took their seats ... their politeness toward each other was perfunctory; understanding was not the same as liking each other.

Jackie was a different matter. Donna seemed genuinely pleased to meet her, and said, "You're a minor celebrity in our history department thanks to your dissertation. I've downloaded it, but not yet had the opportunity to do more than skim it; those that have read it thoroughly think it's quite the banger."

Jackie blushed at the praise. From what he had picked up by having archaeologists as parents, Marco knew she had every reason to feel proud; if she didn't, he felt enough pride on her behalf to make up for it.

"You met one of my doctoral students last year when he was delivering an artifact to U.C.L.A. for me," Donna continued. "I overheard him chinwagging about it with other students, the experience was so memorable. He was quite impressed with your historical knowledge and your huge ... um ... tracts of land."

Jackie chortled. "Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Look, it's okay, you don't have to cover for him. That particular obsession developed evolutionarily because of the choices of us females, yes? Selecting the males that were attracted to us so that we could exploit them," Jackie surreptitiously squeezed Marco's inner thigh, "for food and protection, thereby resulting in the females with big bazongas, and the males attracted to them, more frequently passing on their genes by having a greater rate of survival." Jackie released Marco's thigh. "Besides, guys're not even the worst. Until I realized I was bi I never noticed how girls obsess over ... the girls. Or at least, in the circles I ran in that was true ... I suppose because beach bunnies are always in bikinis and showing off the goods. And it's hypocritical to criticize the guys anyway ... even some of the gay girls drooled over a fine piece of beefcake in a speedo, like Marco, here."

Marco blushed, whispering, "Not appropriate..."

Jackie broke into the evil grin Marco was starting to suspect he should fear. "Every person, male or female, has to decide how to react to being ogled. I've chosen to accept it as normal, and to even have fun with it, especially since, truth be told, I like ogling people." She paused; Marco suspected it was for the purpose of hatching an evil plan. She proved him correct when she continued with, "Why don't you point your student out to me, if I don't remember him on sight. I'll 'accidently' give him a view that will blow his ... OW!"

Jackie reached down to rub her shin where Marco had kicked her.

"Yes, well," Donna interjected, amused, "maybe you and I can get together some time to discuss depictions of the female form in Indian temple art, from anthropological and historical perspectives." Donna's face and tone became serious. "And nothing more than discuss."

Jackie grinned. "Understood ... still sounds fun."

"So ... getting back to the matter at hand, as I told Sub-lieutenant Boy Toy here ..."

"That's Lieutenant Commander Boy Toy," Marco said, under his breath.

"... when we spoke several months ago, I was very much in the dark as to what Rafael and Angelica were researching."

"But you mentioned a particular interest in moon-god temples," Marco responded. "They really never said why?"

Donna turned on the frost. "Never." The coldness thawed a bit. "But, maybe you should talk to baps-boy, I recall seeing him with your parents' grad assistants from time to time."

"Speaking of them, are there any that, um, are still alive?"

"Plenty. But," Donna sighed heavily, "all who might have known specifically what your mom and dad were looking for were there that day." She turned her attention to Jackie. "Why don't you two head down to the graduate lounge in the basement, I'll have your admirer meet you there."

"Sounds like a plan," Jackie responded. "Thanks."

As they were leaving her office, they heard Donna pick up her phone handset and start dialing. When the door closed, Jackie said, "I haven't seen a rotary phone in ... ever."

Marco chuckled. "That's Donna pretending, acting as if it's an important historical artifact. I recognize it, it's a modern reproduction that actually produces touch tones rather than pulses."

Descending the stairs to the basement, Jackie asked, "So, how much should I show off to him to get him to talk?"

Marco replied, a little too forcefully, "Nothing."

"Why?" The evil grin appeared. "You don't want anybody but you to see them?"

Marco blushed slightly and refused to answer. Jackie thought to herself, Correct reaction.

The pair reached the graduate lounge, entering through the open door. It was large and pretty decent, at least compared to most graduate lounges found in basements. It was a bit grubby, Marco guessing it was from dirt, dust, and debris carried in on the shoes and clothes of students recently working in the archaeology labs. Like the first floor it was full of photographs and artifacts, but it was empty of people except for one man. He stood and beckoned them over to a conference area with several comfy chairs and a small coffee table made from bluestone.

Jackie smiled when she saw the man, remembering their encounter. Jackie whispered to Marco, "This guy's a minor celebrity himself. He comes from a long line of archaeologists; I bet my left two lugnuts you'll recognize his name."

As the pair joined the man, Jackie said, "Marco Spector, I am pleased to introduce Henry Jones the Fifth."

"Call me Montana," the man responded as he shook Marco's hand. He shook Jackie's hand in turn, then indicated the seats, saying, "Please, sit." Jackie and Montana took chairs next to each other, while Marco took one on the other side of the table. "Nice to see you again, Miss Thomas ... excuse me, Doctor Thomas."

"Jackie," Jackie remarked. "Interesting nickname, Montana. Are you from there?"

"No." Turning to Marco, Montana said, "My condolences on the loss of your parents. I knew them mostly through their graduate assistants and students, and they had an excellent reputation around campus. The few times I met them, it seemed the reputation was well deserved." Marco thanked him. "I've always regretted that the stars aligned in such a way that I was never able to work with them or take classes from them. Since I was not a grad student of theirs all I know is hearsay, but I'll relate whatever information I can. I'm guessing you're looking for their killers, and I want you to get those bastards."

Ever since she entered the room, any time Montana looked anywhere near Jackie he made sure his gaze never fell any lower than her chin. Jackie noticed, and finally, after a quick glance at Marco, reached over and laid her hand on Montana's, saying, "Dude, you're gonna strain something you're trying so hard not to look. Donna told us more than she probably should have, and I'm okay with looking ... not staring, just glances, like a normal human being."

"Well, that's an embarrassing way to be called out. Anyway, I appreciate your acceptance ... lately, if you are even thought to have glanced in the general vicinity of a woman here on campus you're dragged before the Board of Conduct, and you can be censured, at best, or expelled, at worst."

"I'm sure that's an exaggeration, but I understand the paranoia. I've been involved in a couple hearings at my college."

"I'm confused; the permissive attitude you just expressed seems inconsistent with that."

Jackie chuckled, as she returned her hand to her lap. "You misunderstand; I was the target of a couple inquests. In any case, just don't touch and you'll be okay. Well ... I won't press charges if you touch, but I might just find one of these displays to be so interesting that I completely miss my friend here turning you into a quivering pile of goo."

Montana chuckled. "I know you meant that as a threat, but I'm so thrilled to meet him I don't care." He turned his attention back to Marco. "I have to admit, I've heard a few things about your parents that make me surprised you're not a little more ... liberal in your attitude about such things."

Now Marco chuckled. "I've spent too much time around formal military types and stuffy academics to be a freewheeler like Doctor Thomas here, and my parents were so open and free that the only place for my teenage rebellion to go was to be more ... modest."

"Says the man who went with me to a nude beach after our first lunch together in years," Jackie quipped.

Marco gave Jackie a withering "TMI" look.

"Interesting," Montana remarked. "I was never sure I should believe the stories."

"Believe them," Marco responded. "I not only heard stories, I was present for a few when they happened."

"I've always wondered about one in particular: while helping with an archaeological survey in Yellowstone, the visiting King of Latveria caught them skinny dipping in a thermal pool. Instead of being embarrassed, they had the audacity to invite him to join them."

"That's one I was there for. Not only did the king and I get to see my parents naked in the pool, we got to see them get out right in front of us. It's a side of my dad ... and mom ... I saw too often and wished I hadn't. Although, now, I wouldn't mind seeing it if it meant seeing them again."

Marco decided there'd been enough chit-chat. Getting down to business, he said, "Doctor Kraft stated she was in the dark about what mom and dad were doing with their research. When you talked with their assistants, did they happen to mention anything?"

"They were under NDAs so they didn't say much, but I did pick up on a pattern in what they did say. They seemed to be particularly interested in moon-god imagery."

Marco deflated a bit. "We already know that."

"What seemed to be the focus was any writings or depictions of moons that were closely associated with a particular primum rune. Let me think..." Montana rubbed his chin for a few seconds, then continued, "It was an unusual rune, a cross that was the only symbol not shared with Celtic runes, despite looking quite Celtic."

Jackie and Marco did spectacular jobs not showing any outward reactions to the revelation.

"Does that help?"

"It doesn't, not really. We're aware of the rune, but there doesn't appear to be any significance to it, it's somewhat common. It must just be coincidental that you joined their conversations when they were talking about it."

"I really don't have anything else; I'm sorry."

Marco stood, followed quickly by Jackie. "Nothing to be sorry about. Thank you for your time."

After ascending to the first floor, the pair walked slowly toward the exit, chatting quietly.

"You don't think that's a coincidence, do you?" Jackie asked.

"It could be just a coincidence," Marco answered, "but let's assume it is important. Why, then, only the single mention in that article, and a few doodles in some notes? Seems like it was scrubbed from their records in order to not draw attention to it."

"I agree."

Marco turned his head to respond, "Maybe the explanation of its importance is on the drives, as you surmised." Turning toward Jackie had also turned him toward a display they were passing. He saw Star suddenly appear behind him in the reflection in the glass case; she seemed to then step toward the display.

Marco ignored it and kept walking. He jumped a little when he heard an emphatic, 'Marco! Go back!'

Marco sighed, but rather than fight it, returned to the case. Creepily, Star seemed to be staring intently over his shoulder. 'Look, do you see it?'

The case contained a cast of the Kaskuh Tablet, with a photograph of his parents and others next to the real one.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Jackie asked.

Marco looked as closely as he could at the tablet. I don't see anything unusual.

'There...' Star seemed to point, but the perspective of her ghost image did not give him the ability to see at what. Realizing this, Star grimaced, then said, 'Bottom-right corner.'

Marco looked where indicated. Slightly visible as it was right at the broken and eroded edge of the tablet, barely picked up by the casting, was the Celtic cross.

Jackie let out her breath through pursed lips. "Whoah."

Once outside, Marco remarked, "Curiouser and curiouser." A thought crossed his mind. "Speaking of coincidences, that was quite the coincidence you picking up on it at the same time I did."

Jackie gave Marco the side-eye. "Did you pick up on it? Or did a little voice tell you about it."

Marco chuckled. "How did you know?"

"I think I heard it. Like barely hearing somebody all the way across the building saying to look."

Marco stopped dead, turning to Jackie. "That's not funny."

"I'm not kidding."

Marco chuckled, again. "You mentioned during our visit to the Pier that I was terrible at the 'mind-reading game,' maybe you're the one who's good at it." Marco resumed walking. "I'm sure you just imagined you heard it."

Back in Donna's office, her "new mail" alert chimed. The email contained no return address, no subject, and only two words: "Do better." She immediately deleted the message, feeling a slight modicum of fear at what she knew was an implied threat.

— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —

Star crashed into a rack of hand weights, the lighter dumbbells flying away while most stayed put to inflict painful contusions on her body. She fell to the floor of the training room, then, as she rolled over, gasping in pain, her eyes shut tight, she screwed up her courage to face the attack she knew was about to follow.

Opening her eyes and looking up at her advancing foe, the woman's long, lavender, hair pulled back into a warrior's ponytail, Star rose to one knee, brandishing her short-sword in one hand, the other glowing with magic.

The woman stopped a few paces away, calmly regarding her queen, her face betraying none of the emotions she might be feeling.

Finally, Star relaxed, sheathed her sword, stifled her magic, then held out her hand. The woman moved slowly, helped Star up, then stepped away. Her reluctance was palpable.

"Meteora, why the fuck didn't you offer to help me up?"

Meteora declined to answer, her face neutral as she simply stood, regarding her sister.

It all reminded Star of a sparring session long ago, but the atmosphere of that time was not as thick with tension as this one. Star missed those days.

Meteora turned, then walked over to a rack, choosing a Bo staff, her favorite weapon. She then strode to the middle of the room, where Star joined her.

Star redrew her sword ... not a real one, but a wooden training sword ... but did not light her magic fire.

The two circled each other for several tens of seconds, then Meteora struck with the staff. Star parried the blow, but Meteora had induced that response in order to open up Star's defense; she struck Star with a hard blow against the ribs with the opposite end of the staff.

Star grunted in pain, certain she had felt two ribs crack. Meteora was not holding back.

Star reset, this time bringing forth her magic. Meteora took several steps back.

Star led with a concussive blast of magic, which Meteora partially dissipated by spinning her staff. Star followed behind the blast, sword forward. As she reached the staff, instead of hitting the weapon to knock it away she spun and moved in an arc around Meteora's right, hoping to deliver a blow to her unprotected flank.

Meteora was too quick, sidestepping Star's thrust and cracking her staff across Star's back. Star screeched, the blow sounding much like the strike of a whip, and she was sure there was damage, including broken skin.

Star wrenched her body around, firing a beam of magic blindly at her sister. Meteora quickly retreated, putting distance between her and her sister. The rapid withdrawal, followed by avoiding another blast, threw her slightly off balance and Star attempted to press her advantage. Star began throwing concussive blasts, beams of fire, magic projectiles, even attempting to catch Meteora's staff with a lasso of magic and wrench it away, but for naught. Meteora deftly dodged or deflected every attack.

One of the magic projectiles, a small, spiked, ball, lingered long enough so that Meteora was able to pull it from where it had lodged in the side of a wooden rack then fling it at Star's face. Star blocked it with her sword, but with her guard now high and her attention having been drawn to her defense, she was out of position to avoid Meteora's next attack.

Meteora ran up on her sister, grounded one end of the staff, then used it as a pivot to swing around, using a leg to sweep Star's feet out from under her. Star fell heavily to the ground; Meteora took full advantage of Star's vulnerability and brutally attacked. She repeatedly cracked the staff against Star's body, choosing vulnerable spots that would cause great pain. She was quick and methodical, the pain, and quickness of the attacks, rendering Star unable to defend herself.

Across the training room, two armored sentries to either side of the main entrance exchanged a quick glance. A third soldier, the Captain of the Queen's Guard, in attendance as a casual evaluator, took a hesitant step forward.

Meteora continued to punish Star, grunting with effort as she increased the force of the blows, rather than diminish them, as Star began to cry out in pain.

"Meteora, stop!" Star finally gasped, her voice reflecting her agony.

Meteora not only didn't stop, she began behaving not as a sparring partner, but as a crazed lunatic administering a beating. Drops of blood began to appear with almost every blow.

When Star cried out, "I order you to stop!" and Meteora continued, the three soldiers quickly stepped toward the combatants. The trio broke into a dead run as Meteora raised the staff over her head. The pike of a sentry intercepted the following blow, aimed at Star's head. The strike was delivered with so much force that it moved the pike enough that the staff still nearly hit the queen. The other sentry touched the deadly point of his pike to Meteora's ribs as the Guard Captain stepped over Star's body, her very real sword drawn.

As her sword was thrust toward Meteora's throat, the Captain growled, "Step away, or else." Meteora stepped back, but the Guard did not lower her sword. "To the dungeon with her," she ordered the sentries.

"No," Star squeaked, as she struggled to rise, both because of the pain and because the Captain was still astride her.

The Captain stepped back, hesitated, then broke decorum and helped Star to her feet. "Leave us," Star ordered, her voice now strong and commanding despite the pain.

The Captain objected, strenuously, "But, my queen, she just tried to murder you!"

"Of course she didn't," Star responded sharply. Softening her tone, she continued, "It's okay, I'm not mad, you were doing your job. Thank you, Kayleigh."

"My queen, please, you know I hate that name; call me Higgs."

Star chuckled. "Okay. As a reward I shall call you by that name, Sir Higgs ... for the rest of today. Now, go. That's an order."

Higgs hesitated, her eyes flashing with emerald fire in anger and uncertainty. Finally, she gave a small bow to Star, then engaged Meteora's eyes with her own. She again raised the point of her sword toward Meteora's throat in a gesture of unmistakable threat, then dropped it as she turned toward the door. She gestured to the two sentries, their pikes still against Meteora's ribs, indicating they should follow. Higgs sheathed her sword as the sentries shouldered their pikes, then the trio headed for the door. The two sentries stepped outside, taking up positions on either side of the door, while Higgs stopped just inside the room, turned, then stood at parade rest, one hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze not wavering from Meteora. Star knew better than to attempt to get her to leave.

Star limped to a bench, slowly and painfully sitting upon it.

"Just ... what ... the ... fuck ... was ... that?!" Star ground out.

Meteora, who had not moved at all, did not answer, her lips pressed tightly together, and her brow slightly creased.

"Is it because of how I handled the brothel? You said a public trial would have been better, but I thought ..."

"No, that's not it," Meteora growled.

"Then what?" Star responded despairingly.

Meteora hesitated, then answered, "When you hit that rack, I was reminded of a session a decade ago. Something you said then, a promise you made, has frequently been on my mind the past few years."

Star looked at her sister, clearly confused.

"You promised you would give up the throne to me, because passing me over wasn't right."

Star looked away. "I was only sixteen, you can't hold me to that."

"Yes, I can."

Star sighed. "I didn't actually promise, I said I might do it, but I was seriously contemplating it. I probably would have done it, had mom and dad not been assassinated. But that's not the reality we live in. I need the power of the queen to find those murderers and give them the punishment they deserve. Don't you want that too?"

"No."

Angrily, Star responded, "They never deserved your hate!"

Meteora looked down her nose in disdain at Star. "Yes, they did. And so do you."

Without another look at her sister, Meteora left the facility by a side door. Star was so shocked and upset that it was some time before she even moved, drops of blood seeping from unattended wounds wetting her clothes. Higgs let her queen be, her own face not betraying whatever reactions she might have to what she witnessed.

Her tears mixing with her blood, Star whispered, "I'm sorry, Meteora, but I have to get those bastards."

Marco suddenly found himself transported from the otherworldly gym to his own world. He was under a large canopy, in the badlands of South Dakota. He was with his parents, talking to them about their plans to explore the butte. His parents seemed absolutely giddy, yet were oddly evasive about what they hoped to find.

"Folks, this area is closed. Can we help direct you on your way?" Marco and his parents turned toward the sound. The burly dig foreman had made the statement; he, and the rest of the staff consisting of grad students and assistants, stood between Marco and his parents, and half a dozen strangers approaching the tent.

One of the strangers smiled a predatory smile, responding, "No, thank you, you've already helped us plenty. We're here to give you your reward."

In almost perfect unison, swords were drawn. Their wielders then attacked, so quickly and efficiently that there were few shouts of terror, the only other sounds groans of pain and scraping of steel on bone as the assailants dispatched their victims.

At the sight of the drawn blades, Marco had sprung into action. Grabbing a short shovel, he charged; the two closest attackers saw him coming and engaged. To his surprise, his opponents were strong, and clearly skilled in the use of swords. It was a testament to his own strength and training that he was not cut down immediately, but the best he could do was defend, not attack.

As Marco fought, he could see the rest of the expedition cut down, including his parents. Rafael had also immediately engaged the attackers, his own prodigious strength keeping him alive as he vainly attempted to protect his colleagues and wife, who had followed him into the fight. He was the last to fall, three swords piercing his body; he fell next to his already slain wife.

As the rest of the murderers turned toward him, Marco knew there was nothing to be gained by continuing the fight. A final thrust at the face of one of his assailants, he then dropped the shovel and ran, desperate to save his own life.

Marco glanced behind him, to glimpse one of the female attackers draw a gun. She was clearly skilled with it, as she quickly aimed and fired before he could react, all four shots impacting his body. He fell to the ground, helpless, but for some inexplicable reason they didn't finish him off, leaving him to go commit whatever additional nefarious deeds they had planned.

Continuing to struggle, Marco tried to crawl away but was so grievously wounded that a huge amount of pain and effort produced little result. He finally gave up and lay there, waiting for the inevitable end. His vision fading, he could nonetheless see the moon rising, a rare red-crescent-moon. He began to convulse as he died.

"Chicken butt! CHICKEN BUTT!"

Marco was on the floor convulsing. He perceived Doctor North calling his name, then blackness. When he was aware of his surroundings again, he was no longer convulsing, and Trudy, another therapist, and an office assistant were bending over him, apparently having lifted him onto the couch.

"I'm fine," Marco told them.

"You most certainly are not," Trudy responded. To her two helpers, she said, "Thank you for coming so quickly. I think we have it in hand, now."

As they left Marco called after them, "Thank you."

After the door closed, Marco asked, "Shouldn't I go to the hospital?"

As Trudy returned to her chair, she responded, without malice, "I'm an M.D. and a former combat medic in a clinic for veterans, I think I'm qualified to evaluate the situation." Once sitting, she launched right into it. "You were reliving the massacre. How much do you remember?"

"Everything. How much did I tell you?"

"Everything ... I think. That's the first time you've remembered all that happened, correct?"

Marco nodded.

"Progress. I am sorry, though; that kind of physical reaction was unexpected ... I've never seen such a thing, before. An hypnotic state should not have caused your body to react as if you were actually injured."

"Is anything about my case not unusual?"

"Some things. But not others, obviously."

Trudy observed Marco carefully. Before too long, she asked, "Do you think you can discuss what you saw?"

Marco nodded his assent.

Trudy referred to her notes. "So ... six people approached your party, and nobody reacted as though they knew any of them, yet by their brief statement it wasn't a random attack. And their use of swords was decidedly odd."

"'Odd' is putting it mildly," Marco responded, "and they knew how to use them. The six of them took down twelve people so quickly they hardly had a chance to scream ... even dad didn't phase them."

"Correction ... it was four people. You were taking on two of them, remember?"

Marco nodded, making a mental note of the detail. "I provided them with more of a fight than dad, but I would have lost had I continued fighting; that I fought as long as I did was as much luck as skill."

"Did you see the face of the person who shot you?"

"No, I only glimpsed her, and I was more focused on the gun ... and, I just realized she never drew her sword. She was off to the side and away, that's how she had an unobstructed shot at me. Which means, it took only three of them to take out a dozen people, with swords." Marco shook his head in disbelief.

"I wonder why they just left you."

"The only thing I can think of is that I was no longer a threat, and they believed there was no way I would survive. I certainly thought that. I remember fading away, seeing red from the moon. That's an odd detail in itself ... Jackie said there was no blood moon that night." Marco sighed. "I don't know why it took me so long to remember the massacre. Clearly, I don't have brain damage, so why?"

"The brain is often an enigma. You and I have both seen the damage inflicted upon human bodies by modern weapons, and we both remember the details of those horrors. But in this case you saw your parents and ten other people cut down by three people wielding primitive weapons, then yourself riddled with bullets and left for dead. It's not surprising at all, not unusual in the least, that your brain locked away the details. Unlocking them was the whole point of our hypnosis sessions."

Trudy watched Marco for a few seconds. Not finding anything worrisome, she continued, "Now, do you also remember the first tale?"

Marco nodded.

"Good, more progress." Trudy consulted her notes. "We now have a name for the woman with the clover-leaf tattoos: Meteora. And what's more, she's Charlie's sister; it's unclear whether Meteora's the older or younger sister, but since the older sibling usually becomes the monarch, that suggests she's the younger one. Marco, you don't have a sister, or any siblings, correct?"

"Correct."

"That's an interesting detail, I'll have to think about what it could mean in light of what else we learned. Charlie ascended to her throne through regicide. I think you mentioned that our last session, but with this story its importance becomes more obvious."

"How so?"

"Your parents were murdered, her parents were murdered. What's unusual is that alternate personalities often form to shield people from trauma their mind can't deal with. Forming an alter to shield you from your parents' deaths would make sense, but this alter appears to be doing no such thing, simply reframing them. Much like being queen reframes your times as ship captain."

"I suppose..."

Trudy continued, "It's also interesting that there is conflict over Charlie breaking her promise to abdicate in favor of her sister, and the clear animosity that resulted, to the point of violence." She tapped her chin. "There's three more characters, the sentries and the captain of the guard ..." she checked her notes, "... Sir Kayleigh Higgs. A captain of the guard was mentioned in our last session, and presumptively she's the same character. The sentries are probably only constructs of the mind filling in the world, but mentioning the captain twice and giving her a name suggests something of importance."

Trudy paused to think, then said, "Charlie's tale was told in Charlie's voice, that shouldn't surprise you at this point." Marco inclined his head in agreement. "But this is the first time you told two tales, in both your voices. In fact, immediately after Charlie says she needs to find and punish her parents' murderers, you transition into your own voice and finally remember what happened, which may help you in your efforts to find and punish your parents' murderers."

Marco shrugged.

"It might mean your need for Charlie to help you cope may be coming to an end. For now, I suggest you see your general practitioner, to confirm there's no lingering damage from your attack."

After the session ended and Marco returned to his car, he just sat, his mind replaying the massacre he now remembered.

'Marco...'

Marco glanced in the rear-view mirror, seeing Star in the reflection, as if she was sitting in the back seat.

No. Just, no. You are not real. I don't need you.

'You heard the sorceress, I'm here to help.'

No. Just leave me alone.

Marco and Star stared at each other for a few long moments. Just as Marco began to feel creeped out, the sensation was overwhelmed with what seemed like deep feelings of anger, regret and remorse.

'I'm sorry. I wish I could have stepped in and stopped the killing, but as queen I had to weigh ...'

Marco's temper flared, angry with himself for making someone up to excuse his inability to save everybody, especially his mom and dad.

Angrily, Marco yelled, "Star ... shut the hell up!"

As always, stay amazing!