"Looks like her suit took the brunt of the shield's energy," Tony says, interrupting my sudden realization. "Still, she received some burns from it, as well as a shock to her nervous system. Let me see...." His faceplate snaps down as he holds out his hand, hovering his palm between her shoulder blades.

A thin red line emits from the base of his palm and lands on Veers as I ease back up onto my knees, fighting the shock I know is written all over my face. Right now, I can play that off as fear, fear for my partner's safety. But I need to be back in control. "What are you doing?" I ask Tony.

"Double checking her vitals," Tony answers. "Making sure that there isn't any deeper damage. I can't fix anything, but I at least can get a reading on what injuries her body might have sustained from that shock."

The red line snaps off and Tony sits back on his heels, his faceplate sliding back into place. For a moment, he's silent, but when he speaks, I can plainly hear the confusion in his voice. "Her vitals are coming back fine, for the most part, but...." Still puzzled, his voice trails off.

My breath catches in my throat. Vitals. Would Tony be able to tell, from his scan, that Veers isn't Kree? That her biological makeup is human, of his Midgard? Is that the source of his puzzlement?

Before I even think, I'm grabbing his arm. We're on camera, I know that for a fact, and I don't want him revealing that truth to the galaxy for some reason. What happens, if they all find out Veers isn't actually Kree? She may bleed blue now but she didn't used to.

All I know is, I don't want Stark saying any of that out loud right now.

Stark's looking at me, suddenly startled, as I move closer to him. "Is Veers okay?" I demand, for the benefit of the audience, but I'm already moving my other hand, summoning my magic to my fingertips.

I've only tried this once before. And it had worked – for a moment. Thor had given me a beating for it as soon as the vision had stopped. I can only hope Stark won't do the same.

My fingertips graze his jawbone and I strike him with the magic I've conjured up.

Tony starts at the touch, but then his gaze grows distant, even as his body remains tensed. Through the intensity of the illusion, our minds are linked and I can share the necessary intelligence without speaking.

This illusion is only for Stark.

I show him the image of Veers, as I saw her once, long ago on Midgard. Eight years old, standing up out of the wreckage of her go-cart, dust spiraling up around her and almost sparkling in the harsh sun. Midgardian beats through every line of the scene, every fiber of my magic. Not Kree. Midgard.

It would not be wise to speak of this to anyone, Tony Stark.

Then I cut off the illusion and fall back on my heels, waiting for Stark's retaliation.

There's a moment of silence from the Iron Man, and then his eyes snap over to look at me, piercingly, wary. I hold his gaze, willing him to keep quiet.

"Well?" I ask, knowing full well the audience will be riveted to the scene, knowing all too well that the silence has grown too long since I demanded after Veers, since I grabbed Tony. "Your mind is well guarded, Iron Man. Tell me the truth." I infuse my voice with anger, praying Tony buys the act, praying he plays along. "Is Veers okay? And did you attempt to do anything to her?"

I see the shift in Tony's eyes a mere moment before he speaks. "You could have just waited for my answer, Reindeer Games," he replies, matching my tone. "No, I didn't do anything to her. She's fine. Kree biology reads different on the vital scanners." Then he backhands me, and although I could stop him, I don't. As I fall back, he finishes. "And don't piss me off again, big fella. It's not a good idea."

I bring up my scepter, pointing it at Tony for a moment as if considering, then drop it. "I won't forget you did that, Tony Stark."

"Oh, I'm counting on it," Stark shoots back, but now we're talking about something else, the shared secret.

I turn away from him, back to Veers' prone form. "When will she come to?" I ask, half to keep up the pretense but half because I just don't know.

Tony settles back on his haunches slowly, stretching out his leg as he nods up at the shield. "No idea. This is a new one for me. Give it a couple minutes."

Peggy comes over to squat beside Tony, murmuring something to him but he just brushes her off. Carefully, I touch Veers' cheek gently, smoothing back a strand of hair lying against her skin. The end is partially charred, and drifts away into ash as my fingertip comes into contact with it. The memory of Peter's body, fading to dust in the wind, to Cassie's, disappearing in the same manner, strikes me and I grit my teeth against the sudden wave of pain.

How long until Veers actually turns into ash? If not this time, when? Only one can make it out, and that will be me.

Then I see the ash again, the miniscule traces of what was once Peter's body, Cassie's body, what will become the bodies of so many people in this arena, what must become their bodies because that is the only way for the Contest to play out, the only way the Balance is served in Thanos' mind. Veers and I were the exceptions before – but the exceptions that prove the rule.

No one else will make it out alive. Not more than the one champion, anyway.

The ash dusting my fingertips suddenly feels like it is burning me, and I wipe my hand off on my tunic. I know the feeling is mental, because there was no heat in the ash, but I can't get the crawling sensation out of my mind. It may just be hair, but that's this time. There are two nearby piles of ashes that will drift away in the wind, scattered to coat the ground like dust in a drought, feathery light and impossible to rid oneself of. Impossible to rid myself of.

Whatever it takes.

Rousing myself from my thoughts, I focus my eyes on Veers again, forcing myself to overlook the ash lightly dusting her skin. It is so blatantly obvious now, looking down at her, what drew me to her in the first place.

Because my feelings for Veers were never about Veers at all, not really. They were always about Gamora.

When I had first seen Veers, long ago on Midgard, I had watched her stand up out of the wreckage of her go-cart, the dust whirling around her and with her lip bleeding, and in her strength, I had seen Gamora. They had the same resilience, the same fearlessness, the same resolution to stand up again, no matter what had knocked them down in the first place.

Meeting Veers in the Contest, all those years later, especially in the wake of that moment I had shared with Gamora before departing Asgard, the one where our friendship shattered beyond repair, had triggered that association. With the odds of never seeing Gamora again coming on the heels of that embrace, my mind had projected that...possibility onto Veers.

This explains everything, every unexplained feeling I had had concerning Veers, every feeling that still resides in me. Except...it does not explain my sister, seemingly insisting on the relationship in the first place.

Well, if she saw something between me and Veers, that might explain her choice to pursue it as a strategy.

Absently, I stroke my fingers across Veers' skin, aware distantly of the cameras still watching me. Even if I've figured out the root of my emotions, I can't let the audience or Thanos realize that. I need to keep up the act for as long as possible.

Not forever, though.

"I think we should camp here," Peggy calls, and I glance over at her. She's standing, waiting for my confirmation, and I nod.

"Good idea," I tell her. "Veers is still out." I check her pulse, just to be doing something, and her heartbeat comes back strong. She should wake up soon.

Tony stands. "I'm going to fly around, get an idea of the surroundings and arena layout. Make sure there's nobody near."

Peggy looks over at him. "Don't attract attention to us, either, Tony."

Stark rolls her eyes. "That didn't even occur to me. Don't worry, Agent Carter, I just want a look of the immediate area." Snapping his faceplate into place, the thrusters in his palms and boots fire and he takes off.

My thoughts return to my sister and her tricks. Why would she encourage such a romance between me and Veers in the first place? Even if she thought she saw something, a spark, a memory, whatever – why would she encourage me to pursue it? Even just for the illusion of it?

I remember the note, left with the dinner Veers and I were sent while hunkered down, signed by Hela and Ronan. It wasn't just my sister wanting this relationship – Ronan had agreed, at least to some extent. Why? Why would he want to encourage a relationship that, as far as either he or my sister knew, could not help their contenders?

What had been the point of it all?

Although I could not rule out the fact that perhaps my sadistic sister had just wanted to watch me suffer even more, by watching yet another ally, one bound to me romantically, die in the arena, and the twist of us manufacturing a double win had been just as much of a surprise to her and Ronan as to everybody else – that just didn't feel right. Hela enjoyed torturing her brothers, yes, but she didn't need to force a romance for that. Veers and I were gravitating toward each other as allies anyway. All my sister had to do to watch me suffer was sit back. Thanos would take care of the rest.

Peter, Cassie, Pietro, Hogun. Four seems like a small number until it is counting the deaths of loved ones.

What are you the god of again?

I am the god of mischief.

I remember thinking to myself that I no longer planned to follow Thanos' rules, thrilled that I had discovered the answer to Hela's piercing, belittling question, one that felt halfway between insightful and spiteful. But I hadn't truly strayed that far from those rules I had disavowed in that moment. I kept either trying to be the Champion Thanos wanted or throwing those expectations back in his face, but it was the same seesaw back and forth. Dutiful son, rebellious son, yelling at Frigga, sitting apologetically beside Odin.

I may have illusions, but I had nothing much more than that. Illusions give no sort of life, only the passing resemblance to anyone glancing over as they walk by. To the one relying on them, though, they are nothing but smoke, taunting and hopeless.

Like me. Capable of nothing more than taunting Thanos, hopeless of creating anything real from those taunts. I love his daughter but cannot have her, I flaunt his control but cannot break it. I hate his Balance but yet, here, I must restore it.

What are you the god of again?

I thought I'd figured it out. Perhaps I was wrong.

No. You were right. You are the god of mischief. Know how I know? All you are capable of is minor annoyance, something deemed mischievous on the broad scale of things.

What are you the god of again?

What did Hela want with Veers and I forming a relationship?

Either way, at least I now know why I felt any attachment at all to the Kree. It was all about Gamora, and that shattered moment, and the similar strength that I saw in Veers. My feelings for her had always been about Gamora.

I doubt that somehow that would make Gamora feel better about the whole thing.

Not that this discovery makes anything any better. I still am stuck in here, needing to win if I ever expect to see Gamora again, my brother and father again...but that entails either watching Veers die or killing her myself. Knowing that my feelings for her were never truly about her, but rather about her strength, so similar to my childhood friend, does not make that thought any easier to bear. Her strength may remind me of Gamora, but her fighting style is anything but.

The sound of Stark's thrusters interrupt my thoughts and within a couple moments, Iron Man lands, snapping several branches on his descent. His faceplate snaps open and he straightens, looking from me and Veers' still prone form to Peggy. "We're the only ones in the area, that I can see. So we should be good to settle down for the night." He looks at me. "How is she?"

"Still unconscious," I answer, glancing back down at Veers. "Let's establish a guard."