Final Space Oneshots

Fractured From Himself (2)

Gary said no more, sitting down in defeat as the next memory began to form. Avocato sat next to him, giving a concerned half-glance before focusing on the scene in front of him.

It was clear now that he was watching a funeral take place. Many members of the Infinity Guard sat in the rows at the back, shoulders slumped in sadness.

The front row was reserved for family, however only two seats were taken: Gary, and what Avocato could only assume was his mother.

The present Gary was staring hard at the woman, eyes narrowing as she shifted in her chair. Avocato's own focus was on the younger Gary.

The boy was crying hard, the large jar clutched against his chest like a vice. He wasn't watching the ceremony, lost in his own grief.

"John was a good man," someone was speaking, but the Ventrexian was sure none of the Goodspeed family were listening. "He was a great friend. He always stuck his neck out for others even when it would backfire onto him. Bravery is what I always called it. Dumb, noble bravery."

Avocato listened in silence. The younger Gary clutched his jar harder, whispering against the glass.

"It's just you and me now, okay?" He said tearfully to Mooncake. "We've gotta stay strong for dad. He was always strong."

"Quiet." His mother suddenly hissed. She moved for the first time since the start of the ceremony, yanking the jar out of his hands and dropping it onto the floor. "Don't you care?" More mascara ran down her cheeks as she looked away.

The action was concerning, to say in the least. Avocato reminded himself, however, that the woman was grieving – it would get better, he was sure.

But if it did, he realised with a sinking feeling, how did Gary end up on the streets?

The funeral was shifting before his eyes. The crowd gathered around a coffin as it was slowly lowered into the ground. Avocato swore he felt his heart snap when Gary burst into fresh tears, reaching out for the wood. He had the jar in his hand again, despite his mother's wishes. The rain ran steadily over the glass and splashed against his black shoes.

A small hand reached for the reassurance of his mother, tugging at the dark fabric dress. In one sudden movement, the woman kicked Gary off her dismissively. Avocato made a noise of disgust, shaking his head.

"You invited her into our ship?" Little Cato asked in disbelief. It was strange to hear any voices, and Avocato jumped.

Gary was watching the events unfold with, at first glance, was a stony face. But Avocato knew better, and saw the tear glistening at the corner of his eye.

"Everyone deserves a chance." He muttered, but it was obvious he doubted his words.

Avocato felt Little Cato's hand slip into his, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze despite the despair churning in his chest. He could only watch on, hoping that the end wouldn't be as hopeless.

He somehow doubted it.

Their surroundings shifted again, changing to what Avocato guessed was the interior of the house. The younger Gary was in the kitchen, trying to reach for the countertop. His appearance was ragged, but he was still in his funeral clothes despite them being dirty. If he was to guess, Avocato thought it was a couple of days after the funeral. Which raised the question of why Gary was still wearing those clothes.

The Ventrexians watched as the child tried to reach the counter again, with little success. Tears were slowly falling down his face, and the jar was at his feet.

The kid's attention turned towards the fridge, but he couldn't reach the handle. He jumped in vain though it made little difference.

"Gary..." Avocato stood up, shaking his head in disbelief. "Are you looking for food?"