Rambeau Farm, Louisiana — January 8th, 2012

Arthur had many circles. The wizarding world. Daniel and the Phoenix Group people. Ariadne and her network. Kamar-Taj and K’un-Lun.

But there was one circle that almost never managed to meet. Not because the bonds were weaker. Because the distances were absurd.

Carol. Fury. Talos. Monica. Maria Rambeau.

One was flying through deep space more often than not. One ran the world’s most paranoid intelligence agency. One was desperately managing a secret alien refugee operation. And the remaining two had their own lives that kept them pinned to specific places and schedules.

Getting everyone in one room required a minor miracle. The schedules simply never aligned. For lifelong spies, holidays were rare. For Carol, the human concept of time barely existed anymore. She’d show up saying she’d been gone “a few weeks” and someone would have to explain that it had been eight months.

But they made the effort for the moments that truly mattered. Monica going off to college. Her graduation. And now, exactly a week before her very first spaceflight, everyone had miraculously managed to converge on Maria’s farm in Louisiana for what Eileen affectionately called “the most unique family gathering on the planet.”

The adults sat comfortably on the wide wooden porch, drinking iced tea and watching the kids play. The evening was warm. Maria had cooked enough food to feed a platoon. Talos had eaten most of it.

Elena was in the grass with Monica, talking at high speed about space and rockets. Monica, very much the adult in the group now, answered every question with the patient enthusiasm of someone who remembered being exactly this excited about exactly these things.

“When I grow up, I’m going to get a shiny suit and go to space too,” Elena declared, pointing at the darkening sky. “Just like you.”

“You’d be a great astronaut, Ele,” Monica smiled. “Maybe by the time you’re my age, we’ll have a permanent base on Mars for you to visit.”

“No. I don’t like Mars. It’s just red dirt.” Elena waved a dismissive hand. “First, I’m going to fly a spacecraft all the way to Asgard. That’s going to surprise everyone. Master Sif says it’s not possible, but I’ll prove her wrong.”

Monica laughed, then turned toward the porch. “I am jealous. Arthur, I want to go to Asgard too. Why don’t I get a portal?”

“I did offer,” Arthur called back from his rocking chair. “Your mother said you were far too busy with flight training.”

Maria raised her hands in defense. “You were really busy, dear! Even I could barely contact you. I didn’t say you couldn’t go, I said you didn’t have the time.”

“Those rules at the base are brutal,” Monica sighed. “But I really want to see those golden buildings and the magical things Ele keeps talking about. I want to see the rainbow bridge.”

“They are really beautiful,” Elena agreed sagely.

“Well,” Arthur said, raising his glass. “When you’re safely back from orbit, let me know. We’ll make a day trip out of it.”

“I cannot wait,” Monica beamed.

Fury set down his drink with a heavy clunk. “Why was I never given this option? I am the Director of SHIELD. I’d like to see Asgard.”

“I won’t be taking you to Asgard anytime soon, Nick. Your paranoid brain will short-circuit the moment you see what’s out there. We should start you off with something smaller. A minor trading outpost somewhere. Carol can take you.”

Carol grinned from the porch railing. “I know just the place, Fury. There’s a trading hub on Contraxia where powerful aliens from across the galaxy come to buy and sell cargo. People, weapons, information. You’d love it. Very cloak-and-dagger. Want to go?”

Fury rolled his eyes. Both of them. Extremis had done its miraculous work, and the iconic eyepatch was gone, which still looked deeply, unsettlingly strange to everyone who had known him before.

“Fury,” Carol said, squinting and studying his face. “It’s still really weird seeing you with two functioning eyes. I actually liked the one-eyed pirate look. It suited your personality.”

“I am not a pirate, Danvers.”

Elena’s voice carried from the yard. “You looked cooler with the patch, Uncle Fury!”

Tristan, who had been quietly listening from Arthur’s lap, nodded in agreement. “The patch was better. More scary.”

“I have been medically restored to my normal, healthy, and significantly less threatening look,” Fury said with enormous dignity, “and I am being criticized by children.”

“And adults,” Carol added helpfully.

“And a Skrull,” Talos said, not looking up from his plate.

Fury took a long drink and said nothing.

Carol turned her attention back to Monica. “Ready for space, kid?”

Monica straightened. She wasn’t a kid anymore, hadn’t been for years, but Carol still called her that and probably always would. “I was always ready. I’ll be the first Rambeau to go to space.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? I went to space with Carol.”

“That doesn’t count, Mom. You went to that lab orbiting Earth. Low orbit. That’s barely space.”

“It was above the atmosphere. That is literally the scientific definition of space, Monica.”

“My mission goes further.”

“Your first mission is a standard low-orbit shuttle flight,” Maria shot back, smirking. “That’s technically less distance than my trip.”

Monica paused. Regrouped. “This is just the beginning. My next flight will go further. And the one after that will go even further. And eventually… I’ll go further than anyone.”

“Further than me?” Carol asked, amused.

Monica looked at her aunt. The woman who flew through stars. Who had crossed galaxies. Who had fought wars in systems that didn’t have names.

“Eventually,” Monica said. And the look in her eyes said she absolutely meant it.

Carol smiled. Not the cocky grin she wore in a fight. A real, warm smile. The smile of someone who had watched a little girl grow into a woman who was about to chase the same sky.

“I believe you,” Carol said.

The evening settled back into easy, golden warmth. More food. More talk. The kids chasing glowing fireflies in the tall grass while the adults watched the first stars prick through the darkening sky.

It was a genuinely good night. The kind of night that felt important while it was happening, not just later in memory.

—

Cape Canaveral, Florida — January 15th, 2012

Launch day felt entirely different.

Monica was gone. Already inside the shuttle, running through pre-flight checks with her crew, sealed away from everyone who loved her. The group stood on the VIP observation platform two miles from the launch pad, watching the shuttle gleam white against the pink morning sky.

The easy warmth of the farm was gone too. In its place, something tighter. The particular tension of people who cared deeply about someone sitting on top of a controlled explosion.

Carol stood at the railing, perfectly still. No pacing. No jokes. She was watching the shuttle the way a hawk watches the ground. Arthur could feel the cosmic energy coiling inside her, ready to launch if anything deviated from the expected path. She was thinking about the little girl who used to ride on her shoulders. Who used to beg for stories about space. Who was now inside that machine, about to go there herself.

Maria stood beside Eileen. Her composure was rigid. Military training holding her together on the outside while everything inside was doing the opposite. Eileen held her hand and said nothing. Some moments didn’t need words.

“She’s going to be fine,” Arthur said.

“I know,” Maria said. Her voice was steady but her grip on Eileen’s hand wasn’t.

Fury, standing nearby with Tristan on his hip, cleared his throat. “The launch is perfectly safe. I had top SHIELD aerospace engineers run independent, classified checks on every single system last night.”

Arthur looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You illegally used SHIELD resources to inspect a public NASA space launch?”

“It was important to the country,” Fury lied smoothly. “You know the catastrophic loss if something goes wrong. The massive launch costs alone. The planning. The highly trained pilots. The equipment. This was simply me helping them take extra, necessary precautions.”

Nobody said anything. Though Arthur held Fury’s gaze with a look that said he knew exactly why Fury had really done it. Fury turned away to study the launch pad with sudden intense interest.

T-minus ten minutes.

The platform went dead quiet.

Maria’s grip on Eileen’s hand tightened. Carol went still. Fury straightened, one hand unconsciously on Tristan’s shoulder. Elena gripped the railing. The morning light caught the shuttle’s white hull and turned it gold.

T-minus sixty seconds.

Nobody spoke.

T-minus ten.

The engines ignited. A column of fire bloomed beneath the shuttle. The sound hit them two seconds later. A physical wall that pressed against the chest and vibrated in the bones. The platform shook. The railing hummed under Elena’s fingers.

The shuttle rose. Slowly, then fast. A pillar of white fire climbing into the pink sky, splitting the dawn in two.

Tristan pulled on Arthur’s sleeve, shouting over the roar. “Dad, that’s a lot of fire!”

“That’s how they fly without magic, Tristan!”

“Seems really wasteful!”

Elena tracked the trajectory in silence.

Carol didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

Nothing went wrong.

Mission control buzzed over the loudspeakers, confirming solid booster separation. Then upper atmosphere penetration. Then, finally, perfect orbital insertion.

Maria exhaled. Every muscle released at once. The rigid composure shattered and she laughed, a breathless, tearful laugh that was three parts relief and one part triumph. Eileen caught her in a hug. Carol was there a second later, wrapping them both in arms that could bend steel.

“She made it,” Maria whispered.

“She made it,” Carol said. Her voice was rough. “She is one brave girl, Maria.”

Fury stood at the railing, watching the shuttle’s trail dissolve into the upper atmosphere.

“Uncle Nick,” Tristan said from his hip. “Are you happy?”

Fury looked at the sky where Monica had disappeared. “Yeah, kid. I’m happy.”

Nearby, Talos blew his nose loudly into a cloth napkin. Everyone turned to look at him.

“What?” the Skrull said defensively, dabbing his eyes. “It’s a beautiful, emotional moment. I’m allowed to have feelings. Skrulls have feelings too, you know.”

“Nobody said you didn’t,” Fury said.

“Your look implied it.”

“My look implies everything, Talos. That’s just me.”

—

The group lingered on the platform as the morning warmed. Nobody was in a hurry to leave. Coffee appeared from somewhere.

Eventually the others drifted away. Maria to call mission control. Eileen taking the children to find breakfast. Fury and Talos arguing about something classified. Arthur and Carol were left alone on the platform, watching the last traces of the launch trail dissolve in the morning light.

“Any update on the Kree?” Arthur asked.

Carol’s relaxed expression shifted back to the soldier. “Dar-Benn is consolidating her power. She’s incredibly smart. Patient. No aggressive fleet movements yet. She’s building internally, quietly strengthening political alliances with minor, desperate systems. Playing the long game.”

“She wants resources. She won’t stop until she has them.”

“I know.” Carol said. “Even though we stopped the civil war from spiralling out of control, the damage was already done. Their sun is dying. The atmosphere is degrading. Water reserves are depleting across the entire system. They’re not fighting for power, Arthur. They’re fighting for survival.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment. “Maybe we should look into solving those problems.”

Carol looked at him, surprised. “Solving total Kree environmental collapse? Are you serious?”

“Think about it. The way Earth is accelerating, we’ll be staring at similar problems in a few decades. Different scale, same fundamentals. If we can find solutions for Hala, we have a blueprint ready when Earth inevitably needs one.”

Carol considered this. “I think… I think I could use my cosmic powers to repair their sun. Stabilize the dying core. Manually restart the fusion cycle. I’ve thought about it a lot, but never tried anything on that massive scale before. And even if I managed it without blowing up the system, I can’t do anything about the toxic air or the poisoned water.”

“Leave that part to me,” Arthur said smoothly. “I have some ideas.” Arthur paused, shifting topics. “Any success finding a suitable planet for the Skrulls?”

Carol shook her head. “Not yet. Plenty of candidates but none that are safe long-term. Every habitable world in that sector is either claimed, contested, or too close to someone who’d wipe them out the moment they settled. Talos is patient but his people are tired of waiting.”

“We will figure something out. I will help by looking through the Archives for lost or hidden worlds.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Carol said genuinely.

Comfortable silence.

“I need you to pay attention to something else,” Arthur said.

Carol looked at him. She knew that tone.

“I need you to track the Chitauri.”

“Thanos’s cannon fodder?”

“Yes. I want to know immediately if there’s any unusual movement. Fleet deployments. Mass resource gathering. Anything that suggests active preparation for war.”

“You think Thanos is making a move.”

“Yes.”

“On Earth?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon. Within the year.”

Carol didn’t ask how he knew. She’d stopped asking that question years ago.

“What kind of move?”

“I am not entirely sure,” Arthur admitted, keeping the lie smooth. “Which is exactly why I want you to keep an eye on them. I’ve taken quiet steps to make his original plan unworkable. But things adapt. Fate has a funny way of making things happen regardless. If they’re coming, they’ll find another way in.”

Carol nodded sharply. “If the Chitauri so much as sneeze in this sector, I’ll know about it.”

“Thank you, Carol.”

She looked over her shoulder at the platform. At Maria smiling on the phone with mission control. At Eileen buying the kids pastries from a stand. At Fury and Talos walking back toward them, still arguing about something classified.

Fury’s eye caught them standing together and his expression sharpened. The spy in him never fully switched off.

“What were you two talking about?” Fury asked. “Looked serious.”

“Nothing serious,” Arthur said. “Just some precautions.”

Fury studied him. “Precautions about what? Is there a danger to Earth?”

“Someone on Earth is actively sending out an invitation. They are opening a door for very dangerous people in space to walk right through.” Arthur looked at Fury evenly. “What do you think, Nick? Does that sound like a danger to you?”

Fury’s posture changed. The casual morning-after-launch Fury vanished and the Director of SHIELD was back. “Who? Give me a name. I’ll put a stop to it today.”

“It’s too late for that.” Arthur shrugged. “And honestly? I think it’s high time Earth learned it isn’t alone in this universe. It needs a wake-up call.”

“But—”

Arthur was already walking toward Eileen and the kids. He took a pastry from the stand, handed one to Tristan, and said something that made Elena laugh.

Fury stood there, jaw tight, watching Arthur’s back. Then he turned to Carol.

“Did you understand any of that cryptic nonsense?”

Carol looked at him. She had a very fair idea of what Arthur was talking about. Given the context, maybe Fury’s own organization was the culprit blindly sending the invite. But she’d known Arthur long enough to trust that he had the situation under control.

She smiled brightly. “Nope. Not a clue.”

She clapped a highly frustrated Fury hard on the shoulder and walked away toward Maria.

Fury stood on the platform with Talos. Both of them watching Arthur laugh with his children like a man without a care in the world.

“He knows something,” Fury said.

“He always knows something,” Talos replied. “That’s his whole thing.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like anything.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep