CHAPTER 157: CHAPTER 157: HOMECOMINGS

The Louisiana morning wrapped around them like a warm embrace, such a stark contrast to Hala’s poisoned atmosphere that Carol actually staggered. The air here was thick with life - honeysuckle and fresh-cut grass, the earthy richness of Maria’s vegetable garden, the faint sweetness of morning glories climbing the porch rails.

Carol took one look at the familiar white farmhouse, the tire swing still hanging from the gnarled oak, the workshop with its grease-stained tarp, the chipped blue paint on the front door, and turned on her heel.

"I can’t do this. Not now."

She made it exactly three steps before Arthur’s hand closed around her wrist — firm, unyielding, but not cruel.

"Yes, you can," he said, voice calm in that infuriating way that meant he’d already decided how this would end. "And you will."

"Arthur, you don’t understand—" Carol tried to pull away, but his grip remained steady. The words tumbled out, raw and desperate. "I’m the Annihilator now. The destroyer of worlds. I don’t deserve a good life. I don’t deserve a family."

"I won’t let you go without seeing them first." Arthur’s voice carried a dangerous edge beneath the calm. "After you’ve looked them in the eyes, if you still want to run away like a coward, I won’t stop you."

Carol’s eyes flared with golden light, cosmic energy responding to her emotional turmoil. "Let. Go."

"Make me." His tone was conversational. Almost bored. "Go ahead, Carol. Use your powers to blast your way out of facing the people who love you. I’m sure that’ll really prove you’re not the monster you think you are."

The light around her intensified, energy gathering at her fingertips like a storm about to break. For a heartbeat, Arthur thought she might actually do it.

Then, the back door slammed open.

"What the hell is going on out..." Maria’s voice cut off mid-sentence, the words dying in her throat.

She stood frozen in the doorway, coffee mug halfway to her lips, eyes wide with disbelief. Behind her, a face appeared - older now, sharper at the edges, but still unmistakably Monica.

"Aunt Carol?" Monica’s voice cracked on the name, hope and hurt tangling together.

The golden light around Carol snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane. Arthur released her wrist and stepped back as Monica shoved past her mother and broke into a run.

Carol turned just in time to catch the fifteen-year-old’s full-force tackle. They went down in a heap on the grass, Monica sobbing into her shoulder while Carol held her like she might vanish if she loosened her grip even slightly.

"You came back," Monica kept repeating, voice muffled against Carol’s jacket. "You came back, you came back, you came back."

"I’m sorry," Carol whispered into her hair. "I’m so sorry. I should have come sooner, I should have—"

"You’re here now." Monica pulled back just enough to look at her, tears streaming but smiling so bright it could’ve powered a city. "That’s all that matters."

Arthur quietly moved aside, giving them space, and found Maria still standing in the doorway. Her expression was a battlefield: relief warring with anger, joy tangled with grief for all the lost time.

"Three years, Carol Danvers," she said, voice steady but eyes shimmering. "Once was bad enough. We understood that - the whole Kree thing. But then you disappear again for three years. Three years of Monica asking when you’d come home. Three years of me making up answers I didn’t have."

Carol looked up at her, still on her knees, Monica clinging to her side. "Maria, I—"

"Shut up." Maria dropped to her knees and pulled them both into a fierce embrace. "Just shut up and let me be mad at you later. Right now, I’m just glad you’re home."

They stayed like that for a long moment, the three of them holding each other on the sun-warmed grass. Arthur turned to leave, to vanish into the background where he belonged, but Monica’s voice stopped him.

"Hey!" She’d pulled free from the hug and was staring at him, eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

Arthur smiled. With a casual wave of his hand, like brushing dust from a bookshelf, his features shifted. Older. Sharper. The face he’d worn three years ago during the Captain Marvel incident.

"MERLIN!" Monica shrieked, jumping to her feet. "Oh my god, it’s Merlin! Mom, it’s Merlin! He brought Aunt Carol back!"

"Actually," Arthur said, letting the illusion drop and revealing his true appearance, "the name’s Arthur Hayes. Wizard, entrepreneur, and occasional intergalactic taxi service."

Monica’s eyes went even wider, drinking in every detail. "Arthur? Is this your real face? No more disguises?"

"Don’t need one these days." He shrugged. "I’m a difficult person to mess with now. Besides, keeping up false identities is exhausting."

Maria stood, brushing grass from her jeans. "So you had to drag Carol back here?"

"’Dragged’ is a strong word. I prefer ’forcefully encouraged.’"

"He literally grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let go," Carol said, getting to her feet.

"And you’ll thank me for it later." Arthur checked his watch, a habit more than necessity these days. "I should go. You all have catching up to do."

"Wait!" Monica darted forward. "You’re not staying? But you just got here!"

"I’ll return in a few days. The three of you need some time alone." He began drawing a portal in the air, golden sparks dancing from his fingertips like fireflies made of starlight. "Carol, take the week. Longer if you need it. Hala’s not going anywhere. Neither are its problems."

Carol nodded, something like gratitude flickering across her face, fragile and unfamiliar. "Arthur... thank you."

"You’re welcome." The portal solidified, revealing his London manor’s familiar interior through the golden ring. "Enjoy your homecoming."

He stepped through, the portal closing behind him with a soft whisper of collapsing space.

—

The manor was quiet when Arthur arrived, sunlight streaming through tall windows to cast long shadows across Persian rugs.

He found Winky in the kitchen, polishing silver with aggressive enthusiasm.

"Master is back!" She looked up, ears perking with obvious relief. "Winky was worried. Winky could not sense master’s location. Where did master go?"

"Visited other planets. Battled someone very strong."

Her ears drooped. "What is a planet? And why is master always fighting? Master should rest. Master should have fun."

"Fighting is fun," Arthur said with a slight smile. "As for planets... I don’t quite know how to explain them. Let’s just say I was not on Earth, but on another world like Earth, far, far away. I’ll take you sometime."

"No!" Winky shook her head vigorously. "Winky is happy being home. Winky does not like adventures to far, far away places."

"You might like it. There are worlds with people who look like you. Maybe you’d find it interesting."

"No! Winky is happy taking care of master and taking care of the Hayes Manor." Her expression shifted to something sly. "She would be happier if there were many little masters here. Running. Laughing. Making messes."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "This is a first. When did you start acting like a grandmother wanting grandchildren?"

Winky straightened with dignity. "Winky has always liked children. Master did not notice."

"Well, you’ll be disappointed to know I have no plans for children at the moment. I don’t even have a girlfriend."

Winky’s eyes gleamed. "Isn’t Miss Ari master’s girlfriend?"

"That’s not the same thing," Arthur said patiently. "She’s just a girl who happens to be my friend. Not a girlfriend."

"Winky would like it if she became master’s girlfriend. Winky likes Miss Ari."

"It doesn’t work like that." Arthur’s expression shifted, growing more serious. "By the way, where is she?"

Winky’s expression darkened, her ears drooping. "Miss Ari... she is preparing."

"Is she ready?"

"Miss Ari says yes. But Winky not sure." The elf wrung her hands, worry creasing her tiny face. "Winky has seen the bad people’s house. Too many muggles. Too many muggle weapons. No place to sneak. Not like Miss Ari always does."

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Let me try one last time."

He found her in the converted training room, bathed in the sterile glow of overhead lights.

She stood at the central table, methodically checking equipment with the kind of focus that suggested this ritual had been performed many times before. Body armor laid out like a second skin, grenades arranged with military precision, twin katanas gleaming under the harsh overhead lights, firearms cleaned and loaded. She looked like death preparing for a harvest.

"Are you sure about this?" Arthur kept his voice neutral. "I have experience dealing with heavily fortified headquarters, and it’s not something the current you can handle. Maybe with more training—"

"No. This is it." She slapped a magazine home with practiced efficiency, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "I’ve been preparing for months. I know their routines. Their defenses. Their numbers. Three hundred and thirty-two active combatants. Not counting support staff."

"Three hundred," Arthur repeated slowly. "Against one."

"One with the element of surprise and superior equipment."

"Ariadne." He used her full name deliberately. "No matter your skill, you’re still human. Humans tire. Humans break. Maybe you could handle a hundred. But more? I don’t think so."

"Then what would you have me do?" She slammed a fist on the table, making weapons jump and rattle. "Wait? Plan more? I’ve been planning for a year. I’m done waiting."

Arthur studied her for a long moment, seeing the determination that had calcified into something harder than diamond.

"Okay," he said softly. "I can see I can’t make you reconsider. I’ll help you with more equipment. Some magical items I acquired from a shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. They might help even the odds. Winky will show you how to use them — she has experience."

She pocketed the items without examining them, trust implicit in the gesture. "Thank you. For the weapons, the training, everything. Whatever happens tomorrow night, I want you to know that it mattered."

"Don’t talk like you’re already dead."

"I’m not planning to die." She smiled, sharp and dangerous as the blades on the table. "I’m planning to win. There’s a difference."

Arthur held her gaze for a few seconds longer, then turned and left the room.

"Winky," he called, voice low, once he was in the hallway.

The elf appeared instantly, materializing with barely a whisper of displaced air. "Master called?"

"Our friend is going to war tomorrow night," He spoke slowly, deliberately. "Stay with her, and if things go catastrophically wrong, rescue her immediately."

"Winky planned to do that anyway," she sniffed. "Does not need master to say."

"This is different." He met her eyes. "I’m giving you explicit permission to use magic. But only to save her. Not to fight. Not to interfere. Only to pull her out if she’s going to die."

Winky nodded solemnly. "Winky will do her best."

The elf disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Arthur alone with his doubts.

He sat still, staring ahead.

Somewhere, Carol was laughing with her family. Somewhere, Monica was asking a thousand questions. Somewhere, Maria was pretending she wasn’t crying into her coffee.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just watched.

A part of him wondered if he should go with Ariadne. Maybe his choice to stay back was wrong. But then he forced the thought aside. He had trained with Ariadne. He knew how strong and determined she was. If her grenades and bombs caught enough of the enemy off guard, she might very well succeed without him. Maybe he was thinking too much.

Still, the uncertainty lingered, pressing against him as silence stretched around him.