thewarningafter | IC inbox for Snowblind

Oh, Peter -- no. No....

[None of the abuse Peter is throwing his way is anything Stephen hasn't already directed at himself. Neurosurgeon, master of the mystic arts, supposed future Sorcerer Supreme -- none of it's worth anything right now.]

He was happy. We were all happy. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

[It hurts too much not to say even when he knows how much it'll hurt to hear.]

[He was happy. We were all happy.

It did hurt. But Rocket did know he was back, alive again, and that was one small comfort in all of this. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his shoulders shuddering. The tears flow freely, on one hand he shouldn't be doing this in front of Stephen, on he other, he couldn't help it. Just...everything, it was too much.

If Rocket didn't come back...]

I'm...

[He can't keep the emotion out of his voice, it shakes and wavers and finally breaks into a sob.] I'm so sorry. Shoulda been there.

[Stephen's breath hitches and his eyes shine, but he doesn't join in. Keep your shit together. He hasn't been doing a great job of that so far.]

It's not your fault, Peter. You didn't make this happen; none of us could have known.

[Except Stephen. If something was that desperately wrong, he should have known.]

[It's not your fault.

It takes a long moment before he can answer again, Peter wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve and tries to keep his voice level.]

What if, though? Why'd we come here? If it was just me, then yeah, maybe it's a fluke. But how'd Rocket even come here? Gamora? Maybe we did something back home, I mean, maybe I don't even remember, flew into an uncharted wormhole or pissed off the wrong person...? Oh God, what if it was the Sovereign? They want us dead, Rocket stole the batteries. What if it's some weird side-effect of the Infinity Stones, and that's why you're here too--

[His lack of focus is not helping this at all.]

Peter -- no. It's not anything we did. If it was anything we did, why would House be here? He doesn't know an Infinity Stone from his own asshole.

This wasn't you. This wasn't any of us. This place just...worms its way into one dimension or another and takes whoever it can.

[It takes him a second to calm down after Stephen's words sink in. Right. Right, it...yeah.]

But why? Why'd it have to take us? Them!? WHY?!

[He's not demanding an answer, he just...feels like yelling into the void.]

[There's no answer Stephen can give. There isn't any reason that he can see, no answer that would ever satisfy. No meaning to it. He lets out a haggard sigh, and when he replies, it's not entirely facetious.]

Because it's an asshole.

[For some reason it strikes Peter, and he starts laughing, even though he doesn't actually want to. It's not a happy laugh.]

That's it. We're just gonna die here or have everything we are ripped into tiny little pieces, because this place is an asshole. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and decided to ruin a few dozen lives. No biggie. Let's kill off their friends, freeze them a few times, make them kill each other, won't that be hilarious?

[A pause, he wipes his nose.]

I wouldn't be surprised if something was running this place. Doing this to us on purpose.

[There's a soft thump as Stephen lets his head fall back against the wall with an unseen grimace. He can't help. He doesn't know how to help Peter when he doesn't even know how to help himself.]

So we hit it back. We don't let it just...do this to us. We stay together, we stay strong, and we hit it back when we reach the center.

[Getting aggressive? Fighting back against something that hurt you? That, he understands better.]

Hit it back. [It's not a question, he's just repeating. But there's a nod.] We'll hit it back.

[And that's why Stephen phrased it that way. Fighting almost certainly isn't what needs to happen, but if the drive to fight it keeps Peter from tipping over into the deep end....]

We've just got to hold it together until we can.

[Hopefully that would be soon. But if he could last a thousand fake-years...though what it did to him as a result...he pushes the thought away.]

We'll hold it together. You're too annoyingly stubborn to let it beat you. [A compliment? Sorta?]

I could say the same about you. I would say the same about you.

Thanks. I think. [That gets a real smile, at least, through the haze of sadness, even if it's a small one.]

You're welcome. I think.

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