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I--- well, yes and no. The option has always been there, but the spellwork involved is complicated. We've merely streamlined the process.
[ His eyes sting and something wet falls down his cheek, but even if he had it in him to wipe it away, that would mean letting go of Maya's hand, and that's most certainly not something he wants to do right now. There's blackness creeping in at the edges of his vision, and it's a struggle to keep it from enveloping him completely, but the pressure of her touch keeps him anchored. (Not the feel of her skin, he can't feel much of anything, really, hasn't been able to for a while.)
Another low rumble resounds somewhere else on the ship and sets the deck shaking, and Peter has so much he wants to say to her, to spill out everything, but the words won't come; they keep evading his grasp, and he has no idea how to say any of it. It's so hard to think. He doesn't know how to tell her she's his best friend; that she means so fucking much to him; that she's the smartest and most gorgeous person he's ever known; that she helped him to learn to trust and be honest again, with himself and with her; and God, why didn't he say any of this earlier, so he wouldn't have to try to do it now, when he's bled nearly dry and his insides are mess?
It takes him a half-second to realize his eyes have slipped shut and that his head is starting loll forward, but he tilts back, forces his eyelids open again. He focuses his eyes on her face and grasps her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers as tightly as he can -- which isn't very tightly at all. ]
I love you. [ It's not even a tenth of everything he wants to say, but it's all that comes to him, and he imbues it with all the meaning he can. He hopes she understands. ] I wish-- I wish we had more time.
Another low rumble resounds somewhere else on the ship and sets the deck shaking, and Peter has so much he wants to say to her, to spill out everything, but the words won't come; they keep evading his grasp, and he has no idea how to say any of it. It's so hard to think. He doesn't know how to tell her she's his best friend; that she means so fucking much to him; that she's the smartest and most gorgeous person he's ever known; that she helped him to learn to trust and be honest again, with himself and with her; and God, why didn't he say any of this earlier, so he wouldn't have to try to do it now, when he's bled nearly dry and his insides are mess?
It takes him a half-second to realize his eyes have slipped shut and that his head is starting loll forward, but he tilts back, forces his eyelids open again. He focuses his eyes on her face and grasps her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers as tightly as he can -- which isn't very tightly at all. ]
I love you. [ It's not even a tenth of everything he wants to say, but it's all that comes to him, and he imbues it with all the meaning he can. He hopes she understands. ] I wish-- I wish we had more time.
-- Is this a roundabout way for you to sneak in a jab to call me a monster? 'Cause that's kind of a low blow, and I have access to an airlock.
I-- ... huh. [ It sounds an awful lot like mind reading to him, actually, which is something Maya said she couldn't do. But she'd probably argue and make a valid point and make him realize just how new he still is to all this stuff, so he keeps the comment to himself. ]
Then-- guess the next question is, is it something I'll like seeing.
Then-- guess the next question is, is it something I'll like seeing.
... No. I doubt it will be.
But if you want to understand what you're capable of, then it's something you need to see.
But if you want to understand what you're capable of, then it's something you need to see.
[ He's reluctant to say yes, but he knows he's going to. He just-- for a long time, he's lived in ignorance of this, and he thinks, what's another couple of decades?
But he nods in spite of that thought, swallowing down the nervousness that's creeping up his throat. ]
What do we do?
But he nods in spite of that thought, swallowing down the nervousness that's creeping up his throat. ]
What do we do?
I know. [ She tries to make it a joke, but the dam breaks and tears start flowing down her cheeks in earnest. A small, choked sob escapes her. ] I know.
[ But she understands- there's so much to say and no time to say it. He's the best thing that's ever happened to her- he's brought her so much joy that she thinks she couldn't put it into words even if she wasn't in her current state.
She would have liked, she thinks, one last dance. It's impossible now, given that they're both barely hanging on as it is. But it's nice to imagine. With whatever strength she has left in her, she moves to rest her forehead against his, and she hums quietly. It's not perfect, by any means, and the tune is occasionally interrupted by small, choked noises of pain and grief, but she knows he'll remember. It's one of his mother's songs, and the first song they ever danced to. ]
[ But she understands- there's so much to say and no time to say it. He's the best thing that's ever happened to her- he's brought her so much joy that she thinks she couldn't put it into words even if she wasn't in her current state.
She would have liked, she thinks, one last dance. It's impossible now, given that they're both barely hanging on as it is. But it's nice to imagine. With whatever strength she has left in her, she moves to rest her forehead against his, and she hums quietly. It's not perfect, by any means, and the tune is occasionally interrupted by small, choked noises of pain and grief, but she knows he'll remember. It's one of his mother's songs, and the first song they ever danced to. ]
You can feel it, right? The way we're connected?
Think of it as a stream- it's can only take so much water, or it will flood. That's why we can only feel what each other is feeling, and not hear each other's thoughts or anything else.
I can temporarily enhance its capacity, which will allow you access to my memories.
So, in essence, you sit there. Sit there and focus on our connection and I will send you what you need to see.
Think of it as a stream- it's can only take so much water, or it will flood. That's why we can only feel what each other is feeling, and not hear each other's thoughts or anything else.
I can temporarily enhance its capacity, which will allow you access to my memories.
So, in essence, you sit there. Sit there and focus on our connection and I will send you what you need to see.
What? No! Also don't be a dumbass. I have welding tool and a killer robot.
[ God, he hates seeing her cry, and he wishes he could do anything to stop it, to wipe away her tears, but it's hard enough staying conscious.
(He doesn't want to leave her alone, in the end. If they have to go, he wants them to be together, but it's getting so hard to stay awake.)
And he recognizes the song as she sings it, because of course he would, and as grief-stricken as it is, he thinks her voice is still the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. And he thinks of their first almost-kiss on the Milano, and their first awkward date and first real kiss on Xandar, and all the firsts they shared together since then.
And try as he might not to, he thinks about everything they haven't done yet, all the places he wanted to show her. And strangely, he wishes she had met Yondu, because as much tension as there was between himself and the man, Yondu was as close to a dad as he'd ever had. And he thinks Yondu would like her, in a begrudging sort of way.
He wishes they could've gone back to Terra, looked for Peter's family. He wonders if Grandpa's still alive, and he wonders, not for the first time (but it seems to be the last) if they looked for him, and he wonders what they must think happened to him. He's sorry he couldn't go back to set it straight, kept putting it off out of fear, and now it's too late. He's sorry he couldn't introduce Maya to the Quill family, sorry that he couldn't make her a Quill officially.
(Peter's not a traditional man in any sense of the word, and if someone had asked him the day he found the Infinity Stone if he ever thought things like "steady relationships" or "marriage" were a possibility for him, he would've probably laughed in their face and stolen their wallet. But it makes sense to him now, he thinks. Because Maya is the only one for him.)
He wishes for a lot of things right now. Wishes they weren't on a crashing ship, wishes that Maya wasn't here, or at least wishes he had it in him to pull a plan out of his ass to get Maya to safety, but he's spent, he's tired, and it's hard enough to keep his eyes open. He can feel his head tipping forward, even with Maya's forehead against his, and he thinks he's fighting a losing battle.
And he thinks he's crying now. At least, he thinks he feels something wet falling down his face, and it would logically follow. ]
Wish Mom could've met you. [ It's barely a murmur. ] She would've... loved you...
(He doesn't want to leave her alone, in the end. If they have to go, he wants them to be together, but it's getting so hard to stay awake.)
And he recognizes the song as she sings it, because of course he would, and as grief-stricken as it is, he thinks her voice is still the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. And he thinks of their first almost-kiss on the Milano, and their first awkward date and first real kiss on Xandar, and all the firsts they shared together since then.
And try as he might not to, he thinks about everything they haven't done yet, all the places he wanted to show her. And strangely, he wishes she had met Yondu, because as much tension as there was between himself and the man, Yondu was as close to a dad as he'd ever had. And he thinks Yondu would like her, in a begrudging sort of way.
He wishes they could've gone back to Terra, looked for Peter's family. He wonders if Grandpa's still alive, and he wonders, not for the first time (but it seems to be the last) if they looked for him, and he wonders what they must think happened to him. He's sorry he couldn't go back to set it straight, kept putting it off out of fear, and now it's too late. He's sorry he couldn't introduce Maya to the Quill family, sorry that he couldn't make her a Quill officially.
(Peter's not a traditional man in any sense of the word, and if someone had asked him the day he found the Infinity Stone if he ever thought things like "steady relationships" or "marriage" were a possibility for him, he would've probably laughed in their face and stolen their wallet. But it makes sense to him now, he thinks. Because Maya is the only one for him.)
He wishes for a lot of things right now. Wishes they weren't on a crashing ship, wishes that Maya wasn't here, or at least wishes he had it in him to pull a plan out of his ass to get Maya to safety, but he's spent, he's tired, and it's hard enough to keep his eyes open. He can feel his head tipping forward, even with Maya's forehead against his, and he thinks he's fighting a losing battle.
And he thinks he's crying now. At least, he thinks he feels something wet falling down his face, and it would logically follow. ]
Wish Mom could've met you. [ It's barely a murmur. ] She would've... loved you...
[ For a little while, Peter frowns -- he still has a chance to back out of this, after all. Maybe he shouldn't see this. Maybe he should wait until tomorrow, or a week from now, or some other time when he's feeling more himself.
Granted, "himself" is now a fluid term, apparently, so maybe that's not the best criteria.
But eventually he nods, lets his eyes slip shut as he focuses on the invisible threads linking them together. ]
Granted, "himself" is now a fluid term, apparently, so maybe that's not the best criteria.
But eventually he nods, lets his eyes slip shut as he focuses on the invisible threads linking them together. ]
[ He wags a finger at her. ]
Did I or did I not say no unleashing killer robots on the Milano?
Did I or did I not say no unleashing killer robots on the Milano?
[ Coming from Peter Quill, there's no higher compliment. And suddenly she's so sad that she never got to meet his family, the way he had met hers. (Her adopted Pandoran family anyway, because the Order was no family at all.)
Her hand clenches around his, but she's quickly running out of the strength to stay upright. ]
I would have loved to meet her.
Her hand clenches around his, but she's quickly running out of the strength to stay upright. ]
I would have loved to meet her.
[ She puts her hands on his shoulders, pressing their foreheads together. Her tattoos flair to life as she pours magic into their connection- it's something of a strenuous process, and her brow furrows in concentration.
After a few moments she gives one final push, one final surge of power, and then she remembers. The scene plays back in her mind's eye- hiding behind the tree, confused and weak and oddly frightened. And then Peter.
Peter with lines flowing across his skin, Peter with inhuman sounds coming out of his throat. Peter wielding hellfire and dark magic, and killing the bandits quickly, messily, one by one.
Peter staring at her, eyes dark as night and without even a hint of recognition.
She remembers being scared, as he pinned her to the tree and blocked her airway. But mostly she remembers knowing that even if he kills her, that she owes it to him to not let him loose like this. Knowing that if she did, he would never forgive her.
He doesn't kill her, though, and in the moment she doesn't know why. But it gives her the opportunity to slip the silver chain over his head.
That's where it ends, and she pulls away ]
After a few moments she gives one final push, one final surge of power, and then she remembers. The scene plays back in her mind's eye- hiding behind the tree, confused and weak and oddly frightened. And then Peter.
Peter with lines flowing across his skin, Peter with inhuman sounds coming out of his throat. Peter wielding hellfire and dark magic, and killing the bandits quickly, messily, one by one.
Peter staring at her, eyes dark as night and without even a hint of recognition.
She remembers being scared, as he pinned her to the tree and blocked her airway. But mostly she remembers knowing that even if he kills her, that she owes it to him to not let him loose like this. Knowing that if she did, he would never forgive her.
He doesn't kill her, though, and in the moment she doesn't know why. But it gives her the opportunity to slip the silver chain over his head.
That's where it ends, and she pulls away ]
[ She rolls her eyes and gives an exaggerated, ] But daaaaaaad.
Yeah...
[ His gaze is starting to wander, eyelids fluttering, and he thinks he hasn't got too much longer. He can barely feel the way her hand is tightening around his.
Still, he tries for a smile, just the barest twitch of the corner of his mouth, even as his eyes start drifting shut, even as his breath slows. ]
I'm so glad I met you, Maya.
[ His gaze is starting to wander, eyelids fluttering, and he thinks he hasn't got too much longer. He can barely feel the way her hand is tightening around his.
Still, he tries for a smile, just the barest twitch of the corner of his mouth, even as his eyes start drifting shut, even as his breath slows. ]
I'm so glad I met you, Maya.
You can play with your toys outside. Inside is no place for floating metal death machines. Got it, young lady?
I-- Me too. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
[ She knows she's losing him- it's no small wonder that he made it this far at all. It's only a matter of time for both of them, but he's gotten quite the head start.
She kisses his cheek ] Go ahead, Peter. I'll catch up.
I love you.
[ She knows she's losing him- it's no small wonder that he made it this far at all. It's only a matter of time for both of them, but he's gotten quite the head start.
She kisses his cheek ] Go ahead, Peter. I'll catch up.
I love you.
But all my friends get to play with their floating metal death machines in the house!
[ It's weird, to say the least, to watch himself through eyes that aren't his, even weirder to see his own body acting in a way wholly unlike himself.
He keeps thinking, That's not me, as he watches himself kill those men, tearing and charging and destroying them where they stand.
And the memory ends with him nearly killing her, and even if he knows how it ends, he can hear himself thinking, no, please, not her, and it seems to stay his other self's hand.
He's a shade paler when she pulls away, lips slightly parted as he takes deep breaths to steady himself. He didn't know what to expect, but that certainly wasn't it.
After a few seconds, he thinks he should probably say something. So, with more levity than he feels, he says, ]
... So. That was sort of terrifying.
He keeps thinking, That's not me, as he watches himself kill those men, tearing and charging and destroying them where they stand.
And the memory ends with him nearly killing her, and even if he knows how it ends, he can hear himself thinking, no, please, not her, and it seems to stay his other self's hand.
He's a shade paler when she pulls away, lips slightly parted as he takes deep breaths to steady himself. He didn't know what to expect, but that certainly wasn't it.
After a few seconds, he thinks he should probably say something. So, with more levity than he feels, he says, ]
... So. That was sort of terrifying.
[ He really wished they could go together, but life isn't fair, he guesses, not even in the end. But he holds onto her hand for as long as he can, until he can't feel his fingers anymore, until everything goes numb and he feels like he's floating.
He wishes they had more time, in the end, but he's glad they had time at all. At least they had each other for a while.
His fingers tighten of their own accord one last time, then his whole body slowly goes limp and his eyes close. There's still that bare hint of a smile on his face, though, and when his last breath leaves his body, it takes the form of a few last words: ]
I know, Maya.
He wishes they had more time, in the end, but he's glad they had time at all. At least they had each other for a while.
His fingers tighten of their own accord one last time, then his whole body slowly goes limp and his eyes close. There's still that bare hint of a smile on his face, though, and when his last breath leaves his body, it takes the form of a few last words: ]
I know, Maya.
And if all of your friends decided to jump into a black hole, does that mean you'd do it too?
[ A nod is the only response he has to that for a little while. But then he asks slowly, ] If it happens again-- you'd stop me, right?
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