The others don't like Avocato.

It surprised Gary at first, but maybe it shouldn't have. Avocato's always had an abrasive personality—gruff and short-tempered, a little bit arrogant, quick to violence—and getting possessed by Invictus hadn't exactly made him any cuddlier. Gary had befriended Avocato in an instant, but Gary would've befriended a sentient crab cake if given the opportunity. So it kinda makes sense that, for the others, Avocato might be… more of an acquired taste.

Ash keeps her distance. There's a noticeable chill whenever Fox enters the same room as him. Even Quinn can't manage to hide her distaste—though she does try, for Gary's sake.

"That one's trouble," Sheryl says one day, completely unprompted. "He's not loyal to anyone but himself. You be careful around him, love."

"Oh, wow," Gary says sarcastically. "Thanks for the advice, Mom. Did you try actually talking to him, or did you come to this fascinating conclusion all by yourself?"

Sheryl arches one brow, but doesn't rise to the bait. "We've crossed paths before," she explains, still perfectly calm. "I'm a notorious criminal, remember? I've met all kinds of tyrants and dictators and warlords. I was there on Paxonia—I saw what he did firsthand. I know the things he's capable of."

Gary looks away. He's never heard of Paxonia before, and now he's pretty sure he doesn't want to.

He knows, of course, that Avocato used to be the Lord Commander's right-hand man. He knows that Avocato has a dark past, and that he did terrible, unspeakable things. But that part of his life had always seemed so remote, something faraway and long-forgotten. Avocato's not the same person he used to be, and it had always been easier for Gary to just… not think about it.

Of course, not everyone has that luxury. The truth is, he doesn't know what Avocato is capable of. And the idea that his mom might, on some level, know more about Avocato than he does… well, he doesn't like it. It's an uncomfortable thought, one that keeps drawing back his attention, demanding to be picked at, like a loose thread on a shirtsleeve.

Of course, he's not about to admit that to his mother. "That doesn't matter," Gary finally says. "He's not that person anymore."

Sheryl glances sideways at him. "He tried to kill you."

"You tried to kill me."

"Come on, now," Sheryl says, sounding offended. "If I'd really wanted you dead, you'd be dead now."

"Forgive me if I don't find that very reassuring."

"Fair enough," Sheryl admits. She hesitates a moment, one hand resting on her hip, as she mulls over her thoughts. "Let me put it this way," she eventually says. "Avocato doesn't value other people's lives. Yours, mine, the children's—everyone on this ship is expendable to him. If you really care about these people, you'd do well to remember that."

"That's funny, coming from you," Gary says, and he can't mask the bitterness in his voice. "Avocato was willing to die for his son. That's a lot more than you can say."

Sheryl's expression is completely blank. If she's upset by his words, she's not showing it. "Suit yourself," she says calmly. "But don't say that I didn't warn you."

Ha. As if. Gary's never gonna say that in a million years. His mother is clearly (1) a terrible person and (2) out of her freaking mind. Also, (3) he has like a million other things to worry about, and she's pretty low on his list of priorities right now. There are dozens of repairs that still need to be done on the ship, and they're basically sitting ducks until they can get the lightfold engine back online.

Unfortunately, there is a truly distressing lack of hardware stores in Final Space, and an even more distressing lack of ladders aboard the Crimson Light, so when it come to reaching high places, your best bet is to ask someone really tall. Or with really long arms. Or, failing that, to get someone really tall to let you sit on their shoulders, which is how Gary found himself as the upper half of a two-person Jenga game, straining to reach the next bundle of wires dangling from the ceiling.

"Okay, can you move like… three inches to the right?" Gary asks.

Fox obligingly steps to the right, but overshoots by a large margin. "No, no—a little back to the left," Gary says. "Okay, right again—"

"Seriously, man?"

"Just slide over, like, half a step." Fox grumbles but shuffles over anyway, edging ever so slightly back to the right. "There! That's perfect, don't move."

Gary stretches out one hand and is just barely able to reach the damaged wire. He tugs gently on it, giving himself a little bit of slack, and then snips it cleanly in two. With unusual care, he strips away the damaged cord to expose the metal core on both ends, then hands the wire cutters back down to Fox.

"Pass me the soldering iron," Gary says, his attention entirely absorbed in his task. It's a few seconds before he realizes that Fox isn't listening to him.

"Fox?" he asks, glancing down.

It's hard to read Fox's expression from this angle, but he's clearly distracted by something. Gary follows his gaze and finally notices that Avocato is standing at the far end of the hall, perched at the edge of the gravity elevator.

The darkness in the hallway makes the scene sort of ominous-Avocato is a dark figure eerily backlit by the light from the elevator. Not to mention that the tension in the room is palpable. Gary is half-worried that another thousand-year war is about to break out right her, in the middle of the Crimson Light.

"Heeyyy, Avocato," Gary says cheerfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere. It remains stubbornly gloomy. "What's up, buddy?"

Avocato stops glowering for a moment, turning his gaze towards Gary. "AVA wants to know much longer the repairs will take," he says. "They need the power back on in this sector of the ship before Little Cato and Quinn can finish on the lightfold engine."

"Uhh, not much longer," Gary says, and it's only a little bit of a lie. Probably. "Like… five minutes? Or maybe five hours? I'm sorry, I'm not an electrician."

Wordlessly, without so much as a nod to acknowledge Gary's reply, Avocato steps backwards into the gravity elevator and floats back up towards the bridge. Gary frowns as he watches him go.

"Wonder what's got him so grouchy," Gary murmurs.

"Yeah, I wonder," Fox says, in a sarcastic sort of voice that makes Gary think he's not actually wondering at all.

Gary thinks he should probably say something about that. But Fox passes up the soldering iron without being asked this time, and for the moment he returns his attention to his task. He carefully holds the solder and the two ends of wire together with his robot hand, then turns on the heat. The iron is hot enough to fuse the wire together, but not nearly hot enough to damage his hand—though, of course, his nerve endings don't know that. They react more or less the way a real flesh hand would, and they do not appreciate the temperature.

"You know," Gary says casually, ignoring the pain in his fingers, "I don't know what went down between your people and the Ventrexians, but Avocato's a pretty cool dude once you get to know him."

Fox is still silent. "I mean," Gary continues awkwardly, "he's a little gruff, and he can be..." He hesitates, searching for the right word. "Cantankerous," he eventually decides upon, "but you don't have to be, you know. Afraid of him."

He pauses in his task long enough to glance down at Fox and flash him a quick smile. Fox does not smile back.

"That's not it," he says curtly.

Gary hands the soldering iron back down to Fox, and Fox immediately passes up the electrical tape. "What is it, then? If you don't mind me asking."

Fox hesitates. Gary can tell he's touched on a nerve—something personal, something that Fox might not really want to talk about. "You know I share a room with Little Cato," he eventually says, with the kind of grim seriousness he usually reserves for threatening people who mess with his sister. "He's still real shaken up about what happened."

Gary grimaces. He had noticed, in quiet moments, that Little Cato seemed… nervous around his father. Not very often, of course. But sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, you could tell that he was still anxious about something. And it was understandable—everything that had happened on Kanopus Prime had been pretty terrifying, to say the least. Gary's not completely over it yet either.

But that hadn't been Avocato. Not really.

"That was Invictus," Gary says, as much to reassure himself as Fox. "Avocato didn't have any control over his actions."

"Right," Fox agrees quietly. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

Fox opens his mouth, but stops himself before saying anything. Gary watches as a wide range of emotions flicker across his face—fear, anger, frustration, uncertainty—before he eventually settles back into the same cool stoicism.

"I'm just worried about Little Cato," he says.

Okay. Maybe Gary's been approaching this from the wrong direction.

He knows that Avocato is a super fun chill dude to hang out with, but it's pretty obvious that he's been on edge lately. Which is totally in character for Avocato, sure, but it's not helping the others feel any more at ease after that whole Invictus thing. So if he can just coax Avocato out of his shell—if he can get him to be a little more best friend and a little less bounty hunter—then surely, surely everyone will stop being so awkward and uncomfortable around him.

It's a foolproof plan, really.

Gary corners him in the hallway just after breakfast. Avocato's clearly still in a grumpy mood, but Gary doesn't let them stop him from skipping over and throwing one arm around his shoulders. "Hey buddy! I hear this thing has a frickin' bowling alley, you want to check it out?"

Avocato shrugs away from his touch. "Bowling's not really my thing," he says gruffly.

"Okay," Gary says, undeterred. "How about some cards then? What do you say? Texas hold 'em? Five card draw? No? Okay, what about strip poker—"

"Absolutely not," Avocato says sharply.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Gary's mouth. At least that got a reaction out of him.

"Okay," he says. "How about… Go Fish?"

Avocato rolls his eyes, but finally relents. "Sure, whatever," he mutters. "Anything to shut you up."

Go Fish isn't actually gonna shut him up, of course, though it does temporarily distract Gary from his mission. Somehow he'd forgotten in these past few months, but Go Fish is actually a terrible game. They've barely even started before Gary regrets everything and wishes that he'd suggested Crazy Eights instead. But Avocato actually seems to be enjoying himself—or, at least, he's stopped scowling quite so much—so maybe it's not a complete failure.

"Got any sevens?" Avocato asks, eyeing his cards thoughtfully.

"Nope. Go fish."

Avocato grabs another card from the deck, careful not to damage the paper with his claws, and adds it to his hand. Gary examines his own hand for a minute, trying to remember which cards he's already asked about, when Avocato interrupts his train of thought.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Gary smirks. "Not if it's about cards," he sasses. "You already had your turn, buddy!"

Avocato laughs a little at that—the first laugh Gary's heard out of him in a while. It's good to hear. "It's not about cards," Avocato says.

"Alright then. Go for it."

"What happened to you?" Avocato asks. He sounds genuinely perplexed, and Gary suddenly realizes that Avocato is staring at him pretty intently. "You're like a completely different person now."

Gary glances away, feeling weirdly flustered. He hadn't been expecting such a serious question. "I dunno," he says. "A lot of stuff, I guess. I lost you, I lost Quinn… suddenly there was this kid I had to look after. It was a lot to deal with."

"It's weird," Avocato admits. "Like all of a sudden everything changed, you know? Last thing I knew, it was just you and me, getting into all kind of trouble, and now..."

Gary frowns sympathetically. He hadn't really thought of things from Avocato's perspective before. But of course these past few months had passed in just an instant for him. Between all the time travel stuff and getting possessed by Invictus, it's only been a couple of days for Avocato since they rescued Little Cato. Heck, from his point of view, it's been barely two weeks since their first encounter on the Galaxy One.

"Things are pretty different now," Gary agrees. He fiddles nervously with his cards and flashes Avocato an uncertain smile. "Hopefully in a good way…?"

Avocato smirks. "You're less annoying than you used to be, if that's what you mean."

"That is what I mean."

Avocato rolls his eyes, but Gary can tell he's not really bothered. "Well, some things haven't changed," he says, pretending to be annoyed, but there's a fondness in his voice.

"It is a lot to take in, though," he continues, growing somber now. "Seeing how close you've gotten with Little Cato… it's strange."

Gary tenses slightly, half-expecting Avocato to attack. But of course he doesn't. He doesn't yell at him, or get angry, or accuse him of trying to steal his son. Because of course he wouldn't—that all had been Invictus, not Avocato. Avocato would never do that.

Even knowing that, though, Gary feels weirdly apprehensive. Like his heart still isn't ready to believe what his head has already knows.

"It's hard," Avocato admits, looking away. "Little Cato and I were separated for a long time. And before that, we didn't always…"

He trails off. "I've been a terrible father," he says, sounding pained. "I fell in with a bad crowd, and my son almost died because of it. You're already a better parent than I ever was."

"No," Gary protests immediately. "No, no, no. I'm a walking disaster—do you have any idea how many times I've nearly gotten Little Cato killed?"

Avocato chuckles quietly at that. "Do I want to know?" he asks dryly.

"No, probably not," Gary agrees, laughing. "I mean, my point is—you're not a terrible father. You were in a bad situation, and you did your best. And you saved him."

Avocato gets a distant look in his eyes. "Yeah," he agrees softly. "Yeah, we did."

"I know it's a lot to adjust to," Gary says, "but Little Cato adores you. He missed you so much, and he's so excited to have you back."

Avocato scoffs at that, like he doesn't really believe it. "I'm serious!" Gary says. "Things are kinda weird right now, but give it some time. Pretty soon you guys are gonna be closer than ever."

"Yeah," Avocato eventually agrees. "You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right," Gary says. "Now, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

Gary leans forward seriously. "Do you," he says slowly, enunciating each word clearly, "have any twos?"

Gary's good mood persists for about two more minutes, during which time Avocato thoroughly kicks his ass at cards, until all of a sudden the ship's alarms start going off. Warning lights are flashing, illuminating the whole room in bright red, and AVA announces in a perfectly calm monotone, "Urgent: Temporal incursion imminent."

"Temporal incursion?" Gary leaps up to his feet. The cards are immediately forgotten, left scattered on the floor. "You mean like a temporal worm? Those exist in Final Space?"

"Yes," AVA says, "and if we don't do something fast, we are going to collide directly with it."

Gary starts sprinting towards the bridge before AVA's even finished speaking, with Avocato close behind. Quinn and Little Cato are already there when Gary finally arrives, huffing for breath. Little Cato is seated at the controls, while Quinn stands nearby, tapping away furiously at a navigation screen. They both speak at the same time the moment that Gary enters the room.

"This is like nothing I've ever seen before—" Quinn is saying.

"Gary, what should we do?" Little Cato asks.

Gary grimaces, thinking quickly. "What happens if we enter the worm?"

"That is impossible to predict," AVA answers. "We could emerge anywhere, at any time"

"That could take us out of Final Space!" Avocato exclaims. "AVA—take us in."

"No!" Quinn objects. "It's too dangerous. Temporal worms almost never travel between different dimensions. And if it doesn't take us out of Final Space, then we'll still be trapped here—but without Bolo's help."

Avocato glares at Quinn, but doesn't respond directly to her. "Do it, AVA!" he barks.

But AVA, in typical fashion, does nothing of the sort. "Gary?" she asks instead, waiting for his command.

Everyone turns to look at him. Gary suddenly realizes that they're all expecting him to make the final decision.

He pushes down a sudden surge of anxiety and says, in the most authoritative voice he can muster, "Quinn's right, it's too dangerous. Little Cato—avoid the worm."

"You got it," Little Cato says. He takes over manual control of the ship, and it's a pretty simple maneuver to avoid the incursion. There's barely any turbulence at all as they sail easily past the worm's head.

Quinn breathes out a sigh of relief. Little Cato lets out a little whoop and turns expectantly to Gary—clearly looking for praise—and Gary obligingly ruffles his hair. "Good work, Spidercat."

Gary turns back to look at Avocato, and finds him scowling in the corner.

Whatever progress they'd made earlier has evaporated in an instant. Feeling weirdly guilty, Gary jerks his hand away from Little Cato, like he's been burned.

The sudden motion does not escape Little Cato's notice. "Is everything okay, Dad?" he asks.

The question was directed at Gary, but Avocato's the one who answers. "That worm could've been our ticket out of here," he says, clearly frustrated. "We might never get another chance like that."

"That's extremely unlikely," Quinn says dismissively. She doesn't even glance up from her screen, where she's still typing away, diligently running computations. "I told you already—"

"We're trapped in here because of you!" Avocato interrupts, practically snarling.

Little Cato's eyes go wide. Quinn finally looks up from her computer display, but she doesn't look at Avocato. She looks at Gary.

Gary exhales slowly. This is not how he wanted today to go.

"If you're gonna blame someone," he says, "blame me. It was my decision."

Avocato still looks pissed, but he reigns in his anger at least a little bit. "I understand," he says tersely. "You're the captain."

Gary is struck with a sudden jolt of surprise. He is the captain. For real this time.

Somehow he hadn't realized until now. Between losing Quinn and getting picked up by Clarence and all the mess that followed, he'd never really had time to think about it. But he's been the leader of the the team squad for a while now. Everything that just happened here on the bridge is testament to that.

But Avocato is still waiting for him to say something. "It was a good idea, Avocato," he says gently. "It's just too much of a risk, you know?"

"I understand," Avocato says again. But he doesn't look very happy about it.

"I, uh," Gary continues nervously, searching for a good way to de-escalate the situation. "I know you're probably used to being the one in charge."

Even back on the Galaxy One, Avocato had been the one calling the shots. We're following Terk. We're going to Yarno. We're saving my son. Gary had been more than willing to tag along, but he realizes now that's all he ever was—a tag-along. They've never really… disagreed like this before.

"Yeah, well," Avocato says. "That life's behind me now."

Gary smiles weakly at him. "We're still cool, right?"

He holds out one hand, and he can't hide his relief when Avocato clasps it. "We're cool," he says.

They're not cool.

Avocato doesn't say anything—but then, he doesn't need to. He broods in the dark corners of the Crimson Light, glowering at all who dare to interrupt his solitude. His mood is as dark and ominous as a thundercloud. Even Little Cato steers clear, avoiding his father just as much as the rest of the crew does.

Gary hadn't realized—or had forgotten, maybe—that Avocato could be a real dick sometimes. He'd been spared the worst of Avocato's foul moods earlier, but ever since their confrontation on the bridge he can barely even get him to say hello.

"Hey Avocato," Gary says one morning after breakfast. Avocato glowers at him and says nothing.

"What's up, buddy?" Gary asks another day, as they cross paths in the hallway. Avocato silently walks past without so much as a nod.

"So, nice weather we've been having lately," Gary says pleasantly, while washing dishes in the kitchen sink.

Avocato takes a long, slow slip from his glass of water. He looks like he's contemplating a wide variety of potential responses to that statement: You call this weather? or maybe, We're in space, idiot, or perhaps even, That's a hilarious joke, Gary!

In the end, Avocato doesn't say anything at all. Which is exactly what Gary should have expected, but it's still disappointing. Their weird little staring contest continues on in uncomfortable silence until HUE enters the room.

"Ah, Avocato," he says. "I am glad to see you. Ash and I were hoping you could assist with—"

"Piss off, you pile of scrap metal," Avocato interrupts bluntly. He finishes the rest of his water in one gulp and slams the glass down on the countertop.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Gary exclaims, a little offended on HUE's behalf. "Avocato, what the heck was that for? You can't call HUE names like that!"

Avocato glares at him, a look so ferocious that it actually sends a shiver down Gary's spine. "You're not my mother," he snaps. "I don't need you patronizing me."

Gary blinks a few times, trying to figure out how to respond to that, but Avocato storms off before he decides on what to say. Gary spends another few moments trying to process the situation before turning to HUE.

"Okay, what is going on?" he asks, exasperated. "What has gotten into Avocato lately?"

"I could only speculate," HUE demurs. "Perhaps you should try asking him instead."

"Well, I'm asking you," Gary says. He walks over towards HUE, abandoning the dishes in the sink, and plops down on the floor next to him. "This is the kind of stuff you were programmed for, right? Speculate away. Use your fancy heuristic rhythms, or whatever."

"Well," HUE begins carefully, "this seems to be related to the argument the two of you—"

"That's not it," Gary interrupts. HUE stares at him silently, and even though his face is as expressionless as ever, Gary feels weirdly like he's being judged. "I mean—yeah, but there's gotta be something else going on. Something more than just that."

"He does seem… frustrated," HUE acknowledges. "Trapped in a dangerous place, surrounded by unfamiliar people. The stress of the situation may be causing him to lash out."

Gary frowns, mulling that over. "Is this because of Invictus?" he asks. "Could some part of it still be infecting Avocato's mind?"

"It is possible," HUE says, hesitant.

"But?" Gary prompts.

"This behavior is not inconsistent with the way Avocato acted on the Galaxy One."

Gary furrows his brow in confusion. "HUE, what are you talking about? He was never like this."

"But he was," HUE says calmly. Gary's frown deepens. "Although he warmed to you quickly, he was quite hostile at the start. Forming new relationships seems to be difficult for him. I do not believe he has had many friends before."

"Yeah, well, neither have I, but you don't see me storming around like a moody teenager."

HUE makes a sound that could almost be a laugh. "Gary, you are quite unlike Avocato."

It's true. Gary's never known anyone else like Avocato, who could switch from dazzling charm to cool pragmatism to raw emotionality in an instant. He's never quite understood what it is that makes Avocato tick—and to a certain extent, that's part of the appeal. Avocato was new and different, a mystery to be solved… only Gary never got around to actually solving it.

"What do you think I should do?" he asks.

HUE turns to him, his robotic eyes as cold and empty as ever. But his voice is warm when he speaks. "As I was saying earlier," he says fondly, "perhaps you should try asking him."

It's surprisingly hard to track down Avocato—the Crimson Light has way more nooks and crannies than Gary realized. While searching, Gary discovers half a dozen rooms that he didn't know existed, including several that he totally thought Ash and Little Cato were making up, before finally finding his favorite Ventrexian bounty hunter in, of all places, the bowling alley.

It's smaller than Gary expected, just two lanes and one large sofa in a half-circle at the end. Avocato is sitting in the middle of the sofa, turned to face the empty bowling lanes, apparently deep in thought. But he must notice the sound of Gary's footsteps as he approaches—he suddenly whirls around, face contorted into a snarl, automatically reaching down for his gun.

Gary freezes in place, hands held up in front of him. "Heyyy, Avocato," he says softly. "It's just me."

Avocato relaxes—or, at least, he takes his hand off his gun. He still looks tense, unsettled. "What do you want?" he asks curtly.

"I was hoping we could talk," Gary says, and Avocato's expression hardens. "I mean, uh—I can't help but notice that you've been kind of… you know. Cranky lately. Is there something on your mind?"

"No."

Typical Avocato, bottling up all his feelings. Gary fights against a sudden urge to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, okay," he says, taking a few steps forward. "It's just, you know, it feels like you've been kind of angry lately. And I want to know if I've done something to piss you off, because I don't know how to make things better if you're not gonna tell me what's wrong."

Avocato is still scowling, but he says reluctantly, "It's not your fault."

Tentatively, Gary sits down beside him. "Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like it is."

"It's not," Avocato repeats. He sighs, closing his eyes, and finally a little bit of the tension melts out of his shoulders. "It's everyone else."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not… used to being around people," Avocato says. "I spent three years trying to get my son back. That whole time, I was on my own. I trusted no one."

He turns to look at Gary. "Even before that, when I was with the Lord Commander, I didn't have anybody. I've been alone for my entire life."

Something about the way Avocato says it—a little forlorn, a little melancholy—makes Gary's heart break. He hadn't realized that Avocato had been alone too. "So have I," he says softly.

Avocato's expression softens, and he offers Gary a rare smile. "So you understand what I'm going through."

Gary leans back against his seat. "I… don't," he admits. "This is everything I ever wanted. All the people I love are here. It finally feels like I belong somewhere."

Avocato looks away, his eyes growing distant. "I guess we're just different then," he says. "I wish we could be alone again. Just you and me and Little Cato."

"You don't like the others?"

"That's not it. I don't trust them."

"I mean, granted, you probably shouldn't trust my mom," Gary says, grinning at the thought. "But everyone else—they're good people, I promise. This isn't Tera Con Prime, they're not gonna betray you."

"It's not that simple." Avocato frowns, suddenly growing serious again. "Ventrexia is a rough place. Weakness isn't tolerated there. Ventrexians don't have friends, they have allies—and those alliances only last as long as you're useful. I've always had to watch my back." He looks back towards Gary. "You're the first person I've ever been able to really trust."

Avocato's gaze is so intense that Gary ducks his head and looks away, flushing slightly. "I, uh," he begins, immediately forgetting what he was going to say. "I mean—you were my first friend too."

Avocato leans back in his seat, turning his eyes towards the ceiling. He looks… sad. "I'm sorry for making you worry. I guess I'm still having a hard time adjusting."

That's the understatement of the century. But Gary tries to stay upbeat as he says, "I understand. But if you just give the others a chance, I think you'll really like them." He reaches down to grab one of Avocato's hands and squeezes it gently. "Even if you're not ready to trust them yet, trust me."

Avocato's expression is inscrutable. But he's still Avocato—and despite all the things that have changed in these past few months, they're still bros until the end, back-to-back for life—so he responds the only way he possibly could have: "I trust you."