[ 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.
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. ]
[ 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...
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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.
[ 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: ]
His head lolls forward and his fingers go slack, and Maya has no more energy left to cry. She laughs instead, though it's a quiet, broken sound. ]
Yeah. Okay. Just this once, you can be Han.
[ He can't hear her- she knows he can't, but she says it all the same.
God, she's so tired. Her clothes are soaked with fresh blood- her own, leaking steadily from the open wound in her side, and she's ready. She's ready to just sleep.
She settles back against the wall where Peter's pinned, and she leans her good shoulder against his. Her eyes fall shut and she lets the exhaustion and the blood loss ease her slowly, steadily into the darkness.
Her thoughts are fleeting, flickering like the lights of a passing train. She has no idea how long she's out, but she feels herself smile when the cool, calm grip of nothing begins to take hold of her.
I'll catch up, Peter, she thinks, serene and somehow detached. Not even lions can tear us apart.
She goes limp, head dropping against Peter's still form, blue hair falling in dirtied curtains around her face. The ship continues its free fall, but there's no one left on board to witness it crash. ]
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no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
(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...
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Her hand clenches around his, but she's quickly running out of the strength to stay upright. ]
I would have loved to meet her.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
His head lolls forward and his fingers go slack, and Maya has no more energy left to cry. She laughs instead, though it's a quiet, broken sound. ]
Yeah. Okay. Just this once, you can be Han.
[ He can't hear her- she knows he can't, but she says it all the same.
God, she's so tired. Her clothes are soaked with fresh blood- her own, leaking steadily from the open wound in her side, and she's ready. She's ready to just sleep.
She settles back against the wall where Peter's pinned, and she leans her good shoulder against his. Her eyes fall shut and she lets the exhaustion and the blood loss ease her slowly, steadily into the darkness.
Her thoughts are fleeting, flickering like the lights of a passing train. She has no idea how long she's out, but she feels herself smile when the cool, calm grip of nothing begins to take hold of her.
I'll catch up, Peter, she thinks, serene and somehow detached. Not even lions can tear us apart.
She goes limp, head dropping against Peter's still form, blue hair falling in dirtied curtains around her face. The ship continues its free fall, but there's no one left on board to witness it crash. ]