"The Talk"

John slowly walked across the sparkling Rainbow Bridge towards the point where Thor had smashed the beautiful piece of Asgardian architecture to pieces, his mind preoccupied with the conversations he had had today, and the one he was about to have. Thor's bold exclamation in Odin's Hall Válaskjálf had predictably led to a lot of shouting amongst the assembled Asgardians, most of it aimed at Loki, who merely sneered back at them. Odin, having had enough of his people thinking they could go around in his Hall shouting their heads of whenever they pleased, had roared that the Hall should be emptied; the Throne had heard and recognized Thor's claim, and a trial would be held. For now, everyone was dismissed, though the Avengers and much of Asgard's nobility had been invited for a Feast that night.

While some of the Avengers went to go rest in their rooms, and others began to explore the fantastical realm, John had made his way towards the broken Bifrost, though he was admittedly dragging his feet a little. While Mary and her refrigerator could attest that he wasn't one to shy away from a confrontation, John couldn't help but feel some apprehension, having had so many shocks to his system in a single day.

'A son…' John mused to himself, as his sharp eyes managed to pick up the golden form of the Watcher of Asgard.

Shaking himself, John took a deep breath, before bending his needs and blasting of in a rush of displayed air, thankful for the durable engineering of the Asgardians that allowed their roads to not shatter every time he took off with his superhuman might.

Descending from his arc high in the sky, John landed with a booming sound on the multicolored bridge, which, though looking as if it were made of glass, didn't even shudder under the impact. As did her Guardian, who despite having his back turned to him the whole time, probably saw him coming from a mile away.

Stepping up to stand next to Heimdall, John looked at where his sons eyes were staring at, the slowly turning stars that dotted Ginnungagap, making the void appear like a black velvet blanket studded with diamonds.

John struggled with what to say, but Heimdall thankfully beat him to it, most likely having seen his father's internal struggle.

"I enjoy looking at Ginnungagap , even though I can look much further of course. The rest of the universe can become… cluttered, sometimes. But Ginnungagap is always silent, always peaceful. But not without its own dangerous power: it spawned the raging heat of Muspelheim, and the deathly cold of Nilfheim, who together birthed Ymir, the First, who took it as his home."

Seeing John blink at the flood of Norse mythology that had been dumped on him, Heimdall merely chuckled.

"Then again, legend had it that Odin's grandfather was a block of salt in that grand void, which was licked by the universe first cow, who was birthed alongside Ymir."

Turning to look at John, though he was aware that the golden eyed warrior didn't need to do so in order to see him, Heimdall chuckled, his tone one of wry amusement.

"The point being; the universe can get pretty weird. And the Asgardian's themselves can get weirder still."

John smiled at that, before both men fell silent again, looking at the ever spinning emptiness of Ginnungagap. Now however, John couldn't help but picture a primordial cow, frolicking between the revolving galaxies, chased by a block of salt wearing an eyepatch and sounding like a gruffer, older version of Odin.

Shaking his head, John turned to fully face his son, who instead merely glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Considering this was Heimdall, however, that was the equivalent of putting someone under a microscope to study what made them tick.

"I'm sorry."

Both John and Heimdall blinked in surprise at that, before the superhero pushed forwards.

"Look man… I mean… son… but, you know, I'm not very good at this kinda… stuff. You know? But, I am. Sorry, I mean, I am sorry. Figure that losing your dad for 3,000 years and having to look on as they start acting like an… like an… like…"

"Une asshole?" Heimdall asked with a horrible French accent, though his voice was filled with warm mirth.

John pressed his lips together, before letting out an explosive sigh.

"Yeah, I guess. Look, I just want to say, I realize that you've been through a lot. And this gig you got for yourself seems pretty sweet. But, well, if you ever feel like talking, or if you need something, like, not that I'm really the greatest person, but, you know…? Oh for gods sakes!" John exploded, cutting of his own rambling and rubbing a hand over his scalp.

"Alright, listen. I am really bad at this. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. But the main thing is, is that I'm sorry. For whatever you had to go through because of me. And I can't say that we are gonna get all close and personal now, but I swear, I'm going to try."

Looking up at his son (a thought that was slowly, ever so slowly, starting to sink in) John saw the Guardian of Asgard simply smiling back at him, before turning towards the broken edge of the Bifrost.

"I know. Thank you, father."

"That's so weird." John chuckled, scratching his cheek.

Heimdall laughed in return, his rumbling voice rolling across the Rainbow Bridge.

"I can only assume. However, allow me to put your mind at ease. I was already a man grown when we were separated, and Odin's gift 3,000 years ago allowed me to still keep an eye on you and mother, so we were not as apart as the Celestial's had probably meant for us to be. I am renowned warrior amongst the people of Asgard now, having made a name for myself, and a home. While I'd appreciate to finally be in personal contact with you again father, there's no need for us to become, as you said; 'all close and personal'." The golden clad warrior said with an easy smile.

"Oh thank god!" John laughed, before seeing Heimdall's lifted eyebrow, causing him to back-pedal quickly.

"Not that I wouldn't like that! I just meant, you know, because, you know me being me, and you being you, and…"

Heimdall's easy laugh cut him off, the god shaking his head in amusement.

"It's all right, I understand."

John gave a released sigh, before focusing on something that Heimdall had mentioned.

"You mother, is she-?"

"Dead. Has been for thousands of years. She lived a long and happy life, and her kin gave her a beautiful funeral, so I have long since made my peace with it."

John blinked in surprise at that.

"Dead? But Mary isn't-"

"Marianne, or Mary as she goes by now, is not my mother."

"Oh…"

Once again, Heimdall appeared to be amused at John's befuddled expression.

"You are an immortal warrior-hero, literally hundreds of thousands years old. What made you think you had only one wife during that time?"

John shifted a little at that, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Ah. I just figured that I'd be, uhh, more faithful."

"Hmm, while faithfulness was not entirely the same thousands of years ago as it is now, you were a rather worthy husband compared to our kind. For all that the other Eternals turned away from the Guardians and humanity, they didn't hesitate to produce offspring with them. Every child of an Eternal is an Eternal in turn, without exception. Which meant they had a vast genetic pool to choose from, without having to worry about a diminishing of their power. This was true for you as well; you were a wandering hero, hailed as a god by many cultures. My mother was a warrior-queen of a promising tribe in the heart of Africa. You preformed heroic deeds and went on many adventures, my mother usually your companion and she grew to be your lover. Eventually you continued your travels, meeting Marianne on one of them and falling in love with her leaving my mother behind, but what neither of you knew was that she had gotten pregnant. When I, an Eternal, was born, it didn't take long for her and her people to grasp my true lineage. When I was nearly a man by my people's reckoning, I took off into the world, intending to track you down, and drag you back to us, convinced that my strength would be enough, as there was none amongst the other tribes who could challenge me in combat."

Heimdall chuckled ruefully.

"Of course, when I did track you down to what is now known as The Grand Canyon, you were not so eager to oblige a brash youth as myself, and the scars of our battle are still visible today, and attract quite a number of tourists. I learned two things that day."

At this, Heimdall turned to John, who was riveted by the story his son was telling.

"One: I learned humility. For all that you flaunt your own strength, there is always someone stronger than you, somewhere out there."

"And two?"

"Two: you fight dirty."

At John's gob smacked expression Heimdall let out a loud laugh.

"It is true! Most of that little ditch was formed when we were facing off in the sky and you pretended that there was a flock of birds approaching me from behind. When I turned to look around, seeing nothing but empty air of course, you kicked me in the back, sending me crashing through the earth."

John felt himself blushing at that, before he coughed into his hand in embarrassment.

"Ah, well. Sorry 'bout that one too then."

Heimdall waved him off however.

"There is nothing to apologize for. We are Eternals; scarring the earth with our bodies like that does very little to actually harm one of our kind. At the time, my power wasn't nearly enough to truly harm you, and you were in a forgiving mood, so you responded only with similar strength. Another Eternal that had been challenged in such a manner might not have been as kind."

Silence reigned across the shining bridge, both immortals lost in their own thoughts. After a few minutes, it was broken by the soft voice of John, who held a somber look.

"Your mother. Who was she?"

At this, Heimdall smiled.

"Her name was Akosua, and she was beautiful, and strong. She cared deeply for het people, and would not hesitate to take up arms in their defense, but while she loved battle, she cared very little for war. Under her, we knew peace and prosperity. When a meteor of a rare metal fell from the sky, it was her who led our people to its location, and ordered it to be mined for construction and weapons. It was her son Bashenga, born from her later marriage to a mortal man, who alone proved worthy of Bast's blessing, and who became the first Black Panther to defend his people. His descendants rule to this day, her line still strengthened after all this time by your union with her, even if they are not of your blood. She was Akosua, the first Queen of Wakanda."

"What happened to her?"

Heimdall merely shrugged his broad shoulders, making the heavy golden plates move smoothly over one another, gleaming in the light of the Rainbow Bridge.

"What happens to all mortals eventually, if they are lucky; she died, of old age, and in her bed, surrounded by her friends and family. By that time, you had already become a Guardian, having your memories stripped of all other Eternals and what lay beyond the borders of Midgard. As it was I, an Eternal, who told you of my mother, that memory was taken as well, and you forgot about her."

"Did she… did she hate me?"

Heimdall smiled at John's hesitant question, the superhero staring at the multicolored glass underneath his feet.

"From the moment she met you she knew that an adventurer such as yourself would not make his hearth with a mortal like her, no matter how appealing. For her, it had always been a matter of 'when', not 'if' you would continue your travels. As I had already denied Bast's offer to become King of the Dead, I had to find shelter with Odin, and I couldn't be there in her final moments. But the world was a stranger place during that time, and the meteor that gave Wakanda prosperity, and affected its people was stranger still; to this day, I will swear that she looked me straight in the eyes, and smiled before passing away."

John blinked in surprise at that, before crossing his arms, and looking at his son with a warm smile.

"What more can you tell me?"

Heimdall merely answered John's smile with one of his own, before laying a hand on his father shoulder.

"Oh, so many, many wonderful things…"

And for hours and hours, the son told his father what he had seen across the entirety of the universe for the past few thousand years, as the father merely listened intently to every word, drinking in the sight and sound of the son he never though he had had, or ever would have.

And overhead the two immortal beings, as always, the sparkling void of Ginnungagap continued its eternal swirling motions.

AN: Sorry this is so short, especially after such a long absence. I just felt like this was a really nice moment to end the chapter. Hopefully I can get through the entirety of the trial in the next chapter, so we can move along in the mcu timelin, but I doubt it. In case anyone didn't know; the history of the Marvel Universe is VAST! And that's not even taking into account multiple storylines, dimensions, retcons and so on. Keeping such massive amounts of information straight is more trouble than you'd think, especially since I have characters with memories going back millenia. I already had to fudge a bit (quite a lot actually) with the history of Wakanda, but I REALLY wanted to tie that in as well. While Bashenga IS canonically the first Black Panther, he lived about 10,000 years ago, instead of 3,000. Also, in this case, the Panthers get their power due to a mix of being Bast's champions and a lingering imprint of Hancock on Akosua (a canon character several generations after Bashenga), instead of munching on space-altered weed. But Bakkughan, that's not how genetics work, you silly writer you! I know, but this fic draws much of its background material from the early years of comicbooks, during which 'science' was more of a suggestion that a rule. I imagine the relationship between Hancock and Akosua as something that would fit in the pulp-tradition like the Conan books, given that Hancock and Conan lived around the same time.

Fun Fact: An example of how weird Marvel comics can get when it comes to genetics/families: Shatterstar is his own grandfather. Longshot is also his own grandfather. They are each other's father and son. Figure that one out for yourself, because it makes my head hurt.