The evening had fallen like many others before it—quiet, unassuming, and peaceful. Javier Sánchez, his mind still recovering from the trauma of recent events, was seated with the women who had become the core of his life. Mantis, with her delicate yet empathic nature, had always been in tune with the emotions of those around her. Tonight, however, something felt different. Javier's troubled thoughts, buried deep within his subconscious, were far from hidden.
As the group conversed, Mantis sat across from him, her gaze fixed on him in a way that felt almost... too perceptive. She had always been sensitive to the emotional tides of those around her, but now she seemed to be sensing something deeper—something Javier hadn't allowed anyone to see.
"I can feel your pain, Javier," Mantis whispered softly, her voice laced with concern.
The room grew still. The weight of her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Javier felt exposed—vulnerable. It was as if Mantis could peer straight into his soul, reading his deepest fears and desires. The others fell silent, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Gamora and Nebula exchanged looks, while Proxima Midnight's usual cold demeanor softened slightly, her eyes narrowing as if trying to understand what Mantis was getting at.
"I don't need your pity, Mantis," Javier muttered, his voice hoarse, though his heart was racing.
But Mantis only shook her head, her antennae twitching with subtle understanding. "It's not pity. It's truth," she said, her eyes now locked onto his with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. "You've been carrying so much pain, so many secrets."
Javier's breath hitched. How much had she seen? Was it just his physical suffering, or had she glimpsed the darker recesses of his mind—his memories of Peggy's betrayal, his burning questions about his role in the universe, and his fear of losing everything?
Proxima, sensing the tension rising, leaned forward. "What are you talking about, Mantis?" Her voice was low, but it held a dangerous edge.
Mantis hesitated for a moment, clearly torn by the decision. She didn't like revealing what she had seen, but it was becoming impossible to keep the truth from the others.
"I've read his mind," Mantis finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
The reactions were immediate.
Gamora's eyes widened in disbelief. "You what?" Her voice was filled with both shock and a trace of anger. "Mantis, you know the boundaries we've set... you can't just invade someone's mind like that!"
Nebula crossed her arms, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her posture said everything. "And what exactly did you find?"
Mantis looked away for a moment, her guilt palpable. "I couldn't help it. I felt it… his turmoil, his confusion. I had to know."
The room was thick with silence as everyone waited for Mantis to continue. Finally, she spoke again, her voice barely audible but heavy with the weight of her words.
"Javier's mind is... full of fear. Fear of betrayal. Of being alone." Her eyes flickered to each of them, the gravity of what she had witnessed sinking in. "He's carrying so many scars, not just from the past, but from a future that hasn't yet come."
A pause.
"Javier…" Proxima's voice was softer than usual, a flicker of empathy breaking through her hardened exterior. "You never told us this."
Javier stood, his eyes blazing. "I didn't think it was anyone's business!" he shouted, his hands balled into fists. "Mantis had no right to go into my mind."
"But you didn't tell us about Peggy," Mantis responded, her voice steady. "The betrayal, the knife—what really happened between you two? Why did you shut us out?"
Javier's breath caught in his throat as the memories of Peggy's betrayal flooded his mind once again. The pain, the blood, the betrayal that stung deeper than any wound could. He had trusted her with everything, and she had repaid him with lies and deception. Mantis could feel it all—the grief, the anger, the lingering pain.
"I couldn't tell you," Javier said quietly, his voice shaking with the weight of his emotions. "I couldn't bring myself to relive that moment. It's a scar that will never heal."
Proxima, surprisingly, stepped forward. Her cold, ruthless demeanor had softened, a rare moment of understanding passing between them. "We've all had our scars, Javier," she said, her voice gruff but not without compassion. "But you're not alone in this. We all have our darkness."
Gamora, who had been silent up until now, spoke in a low, steady tone. "If you'd let us in, we could have helped. We've all been through hell. We understand pain."
Nebula added, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, "You don't have to carry it all by yourself, Javier. You don't have to shut us out."
Javier took a deep breath, his mind racing. They were all right. He had always felt alone, even in a room full of people, but they were right. He had kept them at a distance, hiding the truth from them out of fear—fear that they might see him as weak, as damaged. But now, in the presence of these women, he realized he wasn't alone. Not anymore.
"I… I'm sorry," Javier whispered, his voice breaking. He turned to face them, his eyes filled with tears that he had never allowed to fall. "I never meant to push you away."
Mantis stepped forward, her hands gentle as she placed them on his shoulders. "You don't have to apologize. We're here for you, always."
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Javier allowed himself to relax, to trust again. The secrets that had weighed so heavily on his shoulders seemed lighter now. The tension in the room slowly dissipated, replaced by a shared understanding that they were stronger together than they ever could be apart.
The bonds that tied them together—through love, pain, and betrayal—were more than just connections. They were the foundation of something unbreakable, something real.
And as the group stood in the quiet aftermath of Mantis's revelation, Javier knew one thing for certain: he was not alone.