Mark's Pov:
I woke up with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to punch its way out.
The darkness of my bedroom pressed in around me, but it wasn't nearly as suffocating as the memories flooding my brain.
Not dreams - memories. Real, vivid, terrifying memories of another life. My life. Before this one.
"Holy shit," I whispered, my voice sounding foreign in the quiet room. My hands trembled as I ran them over my face, feeling the cold sweat that had broken out across my forehead.
"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit."
The memories kept coming, flashing through my mind like some kind of messed-up slideshow. Getting my powers.
The Guardians of the Globe. Dad - no, Nolan - teaching me how to be a hero. The costume. The name: Invincible. The fights. The triumphs. The failures.
And then the truth. The horrible, soul-crushing truth.
My father wasn't a hero. He was a conqueror. An alien sent to weaken Earth for invasion. And when I refused to join him...
I clutched at my chest, phantom pain blooming where my ribs had been shattered, where my organs had been ruptured by fists moving faster than sound.
I could still hear his voice, cold and detached, explaining how insignificant human lives were as he beat me to death.
"Think, Mark! You'll outlast every fragile, insignificant being on this planet!"
A sob escaped me, raw and uncontrolled. I curled into myself, hugging my knees to my chest as the memories continued their assault.
The Chicago skyline crumbling around us. The blood - my blood - painting the mountainside. My father's face, expressionless, as he prepared to deliver the killing blow.
I died. I actually died.
But here I was, in a bedroom that wasn't mine but somehow was. In a life that wasn't mine but somehow was. With an adoptive older brother who was more of a father than he ever was.
Goku. Not Nolan Grayson. Goku.
I tried to focus on that, on this new reality. I was Mark Grayson, but I was also just Mark now.
Adopted by Goku when I was younger, along with Lelouch and Mikasa. A normal kid. No powers. No alien heritage. No destiny to help conquer a planet.
Just as I was starting to get my breathing under control, a soft knock came at my door.
"Mark?" Goku's voice, concerned but gentle. "Are you alright? I heard... distress."
Shit. I must have been making more noise than I realized. I quickly wiped at my face, trying to erase the evidence of tears.
"I'm fine," I called back, my voice cracking embarrassingly. "Just a nightmare."
There was a pause, then: "May I come in?"
I hesitated, not sure if I could face anyone right now, especially not a father figure. But something in his tone - the genuine concern, so different from Nolan's apparent calculated affection - made me relent.
"Yeah, sure."
The door opened slowly, spilling a sliver of hallway light into the darkened room. Goku's silhouette appeared in the doorway, tall and lean but still somehow bulky.
He stepped inside, closing the door partway behind him.
As my eyes adjusted, I could make out his features in the dim light - his concerned expression, his dark hair slightly disheveled from sleep.
He wore a simple white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Nothing like the imposing figure dad - no - damn it - Nolan had cut in his Omni-Man uniform.
"Another nightmare?" Goku asked, his voice soft as he sat at the edge of my bed, careful to maintain some distance.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The weight of his gaze felt heavy, searching. For a moment, I wondered if he knew - if somehow he could see the memories swirling in my head.
But that was impossible. No one could know. No one could ever know.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered.
I swallowed hard. What could I possibly say? 'Hey, so I just remembered I used to be a half-Viltrumite superhero in another life, and my biological father beat me to death after murdering the Guardians of the Globe. How was your night?'
"It was just... violent," I managed. "Really violent."
Goku nodded, his expression somber. "Those are the worst kind."
He didn't push for details, and I was grateful for that. Instead, he reached over to my nightstand and handed me the glass of water that always sat there.
"Thanks," I murmured, taking a long drink. The cool liquid helped ground me in this reality - this body, this room, this life.
"You know," Goku said after a moment, "I used to have terrible nightmares too. Still do sometimes."
I looked up at him, surprised. In the months since he'd adopted me, Goku had always seemed so... stable. Unshakeable. The idea that he might have his own demons was strangely comforting.
"What about?" I asked.
He shrugged, looking toward the window where moonlight filtered through the blinds. "Violence. Loss. Failure." His eyes seemed distant, like he was seeing something beyond the confines of my bedroom. "The mind can be a battlefield sometimes."
I nodded, understanding all too well. My mind wasn't just a battlefield - it was a war zone, littered with the debris of two different lives.
"How do you deal with it?" I asked.
Goku smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "One day at a time. Focus on what's real, what's in front of you." He gestured around the room. "This is real. Us, this family we've built - that's real."
Family. The word resonated differently now. In my previous life, family had meant Mom and Dad - again, Nolan. I won't accept that man as my dad anymore, no matter how good he was before everything. I can't even trust if that was even real anymore.
"I know it's not conventional," Goku continued, misinterpreting my silence. "A twenty-year-old with three adopted teenagers isn't exactly the nuclear family ideal. But it works for us, doesn't it?"
I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Yeah, it does."
He reached out tentatively, and when I didn't pull away, he placed a hand on my shoulder. His touch was gentle, nothing like the bone-crushing force of Nolan's fists.
"Whatever's haunting you, Mark, you don't have to face it alone. That's what family is for."
The irony wasn't lost on me. In my previous life, I'd had to face the ultimate betrayal alone. My father had been the monster I was fighting against.
But here, in this strange new existence, this man who wasn't my biological father was offering the support I'd desperately needed then.
"Thanks," I said, meaning it. "I just... need some time to process."
Goku nodded, giving my shoulder a light squeeze before standing. "Of course. But my door's always open if you change your mind." He moved toward the door, then paused.
"Try to get some rest. Lelouch is making pancakes in the morning, and you know how he gets if we're not all there to appreciate his culinary masterpieces."
I managed a small smile at that. Lelouch's perfectionism extended to everything he did, including breakfast. "Wouldn't miss it."
With a final nod, Goku left, pulling the door nearly closed behind him. I listened to his footsteps recede down the hallway, then collapsed back against my pillows, exhaustion washing over me.
The memories were still there, vivid and painful, but somehow Goku's presence had dulled their edge.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on this reality - on pancakes and family breakfasts and a father figure who didn't see me as a tool for conquest.
Sleep, when it finally came, was mercifully dreamless.
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Morning arrived with the smell of coffee and the distant sound of Lelouch barking orders in the kitchen.
I lay in bed for a few minutes, letting reality settle around me. The memories of my previous life were still there, but they felt less immediate in the light of day.
I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I wasn't ready to see if Mark Grayson still looked back at me, or if something of Invincible lingered in my eyes.
By the time I made it downstairs, Mikasa was already at the table, nursing a cup of tea and reading something on her tablet. She glanced up as I entered, her dark eyes assessing.
"You look terrible," she said bluntly.
"Thanks," I muttered, dropping into the chair across from her. "Good morning to you too."
She studied me for a moment longer, then slid her mug toward me. "Here. You need this more than I do."
I accepted the tea gratefully, taking a cautious sip. Mikasa had always been perceptive, even before we became family. It was one of the things I appreciated about her - she saw things clearly, without pretense.
"Rough night?" she asked, her tone softer now.
I nodded, not elaborating. What could I say? The compulsion to keep silent about my memories was overwhelming, like a physical barrier in my throat.
She seemed to understand my reluctance to talk. "It happens," she said simply, returning to her tablet.
From the kitchen came the sound of Lelouch's exasperated voice. "Goku, I said fold the egg whites, not beat them! You're destroying all the air bubbles!"
"Sorry, sorry!" Goku's apologetic tone carried a hint of amusement. "I'm better at eating pancakes than making them."
Their banter continued, a familiar soundtrack to our mornings. I sipped Mikasa's tea, letting the normalcy of the moment wash over me.
This was my life now - breakfast squabbles and shared tea and family. None of that insane half-alien bullshit.
Lelouch emerged from the kitchen, a smudge of flour on his cheek and a determined glint in his violet eyes. "Breakfast in five minutes," he announced. "And it would have been ready sooner if someone hadn't insisted on 'helping.'"
Goku followed, carrying a stack of plates and utensils. "My help is an essential part of the pancake experience," he defended with a grin.
"Your help nearly resulted in culinary disaster," Lelouch retorted, but there was no real heat in his words.
As they set the table, I watched them, struck by how different this was from my memories of breakfast with Nolan and Mom.
There had been love there too - after a night sleep and relaxing a bit I realise that I'm sure of it - but always underlaid with secrets. Nolan's hidden agenda, my struggles with my powers, the constant balancing act of two identities.
Here, there were undoubtedly secrets - my newfound memories were proof of that - but there was also an openness, a genuine connection that felt... real.
"Earth to Mark," Lelouch said, waving a hand in front of my face. "I asked if you wanted blueberry or chocolate chip."
I blinked, pulled from my thoughts. "Oh, uh, blueberry. Thanks."
He nodded, disappearing back into the kitchen. Goku took a seat beside me, his expression turning concerned.
"Still thinking about that nightmare?" he asked quietly.
I shrugged, not wanting to lie but unable to tell the truth. "Just processing."
He seemed to accept that, though his eyes lingered on me a moment longer than necessary. "Well, Lelouch's pancakes have been known to cure all manner of ailments. Even existential ones."
I managed a small smile at that. "I'll hold you to that."
Breakfast proceeded with the usual mix of conversation and good-natured bickering. Lelouch critiqued his own pancakes even as we all praised them.
Mikasa remained mostly quiet, offering occasional dry observations. Goku kept the conversation flowing, drawing each of us out in turn.
It was normal. Comfortable. And yet, beneath it all, I still felt the weight of my memories pressing down on me.
Every time Goku smiled or offered a word of encouragement, I couldn't help comparing him to Nolan. Every interaction was filtered through the lens of my previous life's experiences.
"Mark, you've barely touched your food," Lelouch observed, interrupting my thoughts. "Is my cooking suddenly not up to your standards?"
I looked down at my plate, surprised to find I'd only taken a few bites of the perfectly prepared pancakes. "Sorry, just distracted," I said, forcing myself to take another bite. "They're delicious, as always."
Lelouch seemed appeased, though his sharp eyes missed nothing. "Well, try to be less distracted. Cold pancakes are a culinary tragedy."
"Speaking of distractions," Goku interjected smoothly, "don't forget we have that community service project this afternoon. The park cleanup?"
Mikasa nodded. "I've already packed supplies. Gloves, trash bags, water bottles."
"Always prepared," Goku said with an approving smile. "Mark, you're still joining us, right?"
The question caught me off guard. Community service. Such a normal, mundane activity - something dad - Nolan would've believed would beneath me. In my previous life, I'd been saving cities from supervillains and alien invasions. The contrast was jarring.
"Yeah, of course," I said, though the idea of spending the afternoon picking up litter seemed surreal after the memories that had flooded back overnight.
"Excellent," Lelouch said. "I've mapped out the most efficient route through the park to ensure maximum coverage in minimum time."
"Of course you have," Mikasa murmured into her tea.
"Efficiency is not a character flaw," Lelouch sniffed.
"Neither is spontaneity," Goku countered with a grin. "Sometimes the best experiences come from unplanned moments."
The conversation flowed around me, and I made an effort to participate, to stay present in this reality rather than getting lost in memories of another.
But questions kept bubbling up: Why had I remembered now? What did it mean?
After breakfast, as we cleared the table, Goku pulled me aside. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear. "You seemed a million miles away during breakfast."
I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. Part of me desperately wanted to tell him everything - about Nolan, about Invincible, about dying on that mountainside with the city in ruins below.
But every time I tried to form the words, they disappeared, like smoke slipping through my fingers.
"I'm fine," I said instead. "Just... processing some stuff."
Goku studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling he could see right through me. Finally, he nodded.
"Alright. But remember what I said last night. You're not alone, Mark. Whatever you're going through, you don't have to face it by yourself."
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tight.
"Thanks," I managed.
He squeezed my shoulder gently, then moved to help Mikasa with the dishes.
Eventually, after contemplating my new situation I joined the others in cleaning up, and I made a decision.
I couldn't tell Goku about my past - I couldn't tell anyone about my past, I didn't even really want to - but I could honor the lessons from that life. I could be better, do better. I could embrace this second chance.
After all, how many people got to die and then start over? How many people got to know exactly what they'd lost, what they'd gained, what truly mattered?
"Hey," Lelouch called, breaking into my thoughts. "If you're done contemplating the mysteries of the universe, there are dishes that need drying."
I looked up to find all three of them watching me - Lelouch with impatience, Mikasa with quiet assessment, and Goku with that same concerned kindness.
My family. Not by blood, but by choice. And maybe that made it more meaningful, not less.
"Coming," I said, moving to join them at the sink. As I took the dish towel Lelouch thrust at me, I felt something settle inside me - not peace, exactly, but a kind of acceptance.
I was Mark Grayson. I was Invincible. I was both, and neither, and something new entirely.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
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(Author note: Okay... That was difficult. Keeping Mark in character while also keeping in mind he has lived another life was a bit hard, but I hope it was good.
Mark of course will have his powers - soon, just not right now. Lelouch and Mikasa as well.
So yeah, do tell me how you found the chapter and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)