nysalogs | closed; dive down deep to save my head

Entry tags:

closed; dive down deep to save my head

Who: Peter Quill (

uglybug)
What: finally addressing what they saw during the memory share
When: Ma...y? End of May.
Where: the Guardians' place
Warning(s): mentions of child abuse and child murder and possible rampant use of outdated pop culture references

[ It's not that Peter has been avoiding Mantis.

Because— obviously, he isn't. He hasn't been. And that's impossible to do, considering they live in the same house, under the same roof.

His routine doesn't change much, and he still speaks with her, jokes with her, teaches her random tidbits about his life on Earth; things don't really change. So it's a complete coincidence that they haven't been in a room together without Rocket and/or Gamora there as a buffer. And it's a coincidence that Peter frequently found a reason to excuse himself if it became clear that it would just be the two of them. Sometimes he just wanted some alone time, you know? Or sometimes he forgot about that "Thing" he needed to go pick up from a store, or some random errand that he needed to run before it got too late.

He's had a lot to process, and he's needed time to do it – though, admittedly, the first couple weeks of the month were spent aggressively ignoring the Ego-sized elephant in the room, pretending nothing had happened, pretending that he hadn't been witness to the ugly truths about Ego and all the children that came before Peter. It's how he reacted to the bullshit when he woke up on Thesa Station, after all – by pretending there wasn't a problem, by ignoring and ignoring and ignoring, because there wasn't any good way to deal with it, so why bother?

Now, though, his mind drifts to it, even if he wants to pretend it never happened. He thinks of the terrified wails of that child whose name he'll never know, and he thinks of the thousands and thousands of half-siblings he might have had, strewn across the galaxy, and he thinks of—

He thinks of Mom, smiling up at the night sky as she and Peter stargazed, tousling his hair and telling him, "Your daddy'll be back, one of these days, and he's just gonna adore you."

... So, alright. Maybe he has been avoiding Mantis.

And maybe he hasn't been processing it all as well or as thoroughly as he could have.

And maybe one night, he wakes, sweating, gasping, clawing at his chest and neck to yank out the tendrils of Light Ego had slammed through him, and he sobs with relief when he realizes there's nothing there. That it was just a dream. That he's fine. He's fine. He's totally fine.

(He's not.)

There's a lot on his mind. And it occurs to him if there's a lot on his mind, there must be a lot on Mantis' mind, and if anyone is going to get how fucked up this whole thing was, they're going to find that person in each other.

After exploring Khalo Village, Peter returns some time after sunset, bearing gifts – a shear, sparkly shawl and a dark wooden lacquered bracelet to replace the items Mantis had lost during the riots, all those months ago. The aero-rig Rocket had given him brings him up to the balcony, and he climbs over the railing to enter the mess that is their place.

Because front doors are for losers. ]

Mantis? You here?

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[Mantis is naive and gullible. Even now, after spending time on this planet and among many different people, she hasn't lost that naive way of thinking the best of people (and it's a wonder she has that outlook at all, all things considered.)

But she's not dumb.

It hadn't taken her long at all to figure out that Peter's has avoided being alone with her. Honestly, she actually expected far more than that, so she hasn't tried to address it for fear of losing what small friendship they still had after he stumbled into her memories. For her, it's a small and unexpected blessing that he still at least speaks to her when the others are around.

If Peter is having trouble sleeping peacefully, then Mantis isn't sleeping much at all. Everything around her feels tense and sad; she can't sleep with it whirling around her mind. The events shown in her memory -- and a million others -- just won't go away.

She has been exploring Khalo Village - especially the library - but even that didn't hold the draw that simply being at home did after awhile. She's taken refuge in the main room, quietly repairing a small ripped seam in a favorite shirt, but pauses in her work and looks up as the telltale quiet thud of someone landing on the balcony sounds.

She automatically looks for either Rocket or Gamora when Peter calls her name.]

I'm here. [She doesn't put her work down, nor does she continue sewing.

... Of all the things that she had not expected today...]

[ When she answers, he—

Falters.

In true Peter Quill fashion – hell, in true Guardians fashion – Peter apparently didn't think this far ahead. Planning has never exactly been his strong suit, if he's honest; usually, he has an end goal in mind (in this case, smoothing things over with Mantis is the idea, here), and a few of the first steps (a couple of gifts by way of apology for being all weird with her), but all the steps in between? Usually he just... improvises.

He clears his throat, reaching for the aero-rig trigger between his shoulder blades. He twists it, disengaging the device, and sticks the trigger into his pocket in a smooth, practiced motion.

... that was supposed to buy him a bit of time, but that was, what, five seconds? Ten? And his tongue darts out to wet his lips – a nervous sort of tic. ]

What, uh.

[ a beat. ]

What's up?

[ NAILED IT. ]

[She blinks at him.

Just... stares and blinks for a second, because when Peter enters a room with any of his friends in it, he tends to just start talking about whatever comes to mind. Little icebreakers aren't his style.

She puts her feet on the floor, uncurling from her comfortable position but not standing up yet, and holds up the mending she's doing.]

I tore one of my shirts.

Oh. Um. [ A heartbeat of silence. ] That... sucks.

[ ... yeah, okay, he can tell this isn't going well. And he can tell that Mantis can tell this isn't going well, and he rubs at the back of his neck, visibly floundering.

But, okay. He's good at talking. If he just— gets going, he can circle around to it, which is why he sort of glances around the living space for inspiration before realizing he still has the little paper-wrapped package tucked under his arm. ]

I, um. That Khalo place— I was walking around, and I, uh, saw a couple things that I thought you might like.

[ ... much like planning, gift-giving is also not exactly in Peter's wheelhouse, but he powers through it anyway, closing the space between them to offer the little wrapped bundle to her. ]

You and me never got around to getting that celebratory drink for the hero-of-the-hour thing, so, um. I kinda hoped this would make up for it.

[She's not sure if she should be worried or not that he's standing in front of her, searching for words during long pauses of Really Awkward silence. Mantis is not even sure how to react to any of it, so she sits there, still holding her mending a bit awkwardly in her hands, and staring up at him.

But he produces the gift and she eyes it for a moment before setting the shirt and needle (carefully tucked into the seam) into her lap. She's been given so many gifts that she's hardly been able to keep track of them all, though it's slowed down as they become more removed from the incident on the mountain.]

Too many people bought me drinks anyway. [She takes the package, but doesn't set to unwrapping it just yet.] This is better.

[ Avoiding Mantis as he had been, he wonders, briefly, how good her tolerance might be. Maybe a little better, now, considering he's reasonably sure Rocket was taking advantage of her newfound fame to milk a few drinks out of it all. ]

Still. Consider this a rain check on that drink.

[ He eases down in a nearby chair, shrugging out of his jacket. ]

You can open it, if you want.

[Rocket is, of course, making use of her newfound fame. It's the best thing that's ever happened to Rocket.

But what's a rain check? Brief confusion flickers across her features, both at the phrase and at the fact that Peter's actually sitting down nearby. This is usually the point where he realizes that they're alone together and needs to make some excuse to go. She never says anything about it; he shouldn't have seen what he did and she is sorry that he has to live with that memory of hers rattling around in his head.

The day that they all realize what she's done and leave her to own devices might be coming anyway. This might just be the start of it.

But the gift that he gave her doesn't feel like a suitcase.]

All right. [She does want. Sort of. She regards it for a moment before gently unwrapping it. As the gifts are revealed, her expression of light confusion and worry lifts to easy happiness. She lifts the bracelet -- and immediately it goes on her wrist while the shawl is wrapped around her shoulders.

The smile she offers Peter is bright and wide.]

[ He fidgets as she opens the gift. Living with the Ravagers meant that giving and receiving gifts were rarities, and that usually only happened after jobs exceptionally well done. Plus, you know. He hated a lot of those assholes, so unless there was a much needed favor on the line, he never really saw reason to buy his fellow Ravagers anything, and vice versa.

So this? Is weird. And new. And he casts his gaze over to some random, half-made device of Rocket's design. (Is it a radio? Is it a bomb? It's a fun game they can play later.) The crackle of paper shifting away and the whisper of cloth draws his attention back to her, and—

Oh. Yeah. Okay. That definitely seems like a good smile, and Peter echoes it a little sheepishly. ]

I, uh. Figured you could use something in more neutral colors.

[ Sure, Wyver and Olympia seemed to chill out lately, but that didn't mean they wouldn't get weird again. ]

[Her smiles dims a bit, touched by a bitter understanding of the relations between the cities and her own place in it all. Even so, the gift is both thoughtful and appreciated.]

Thank you, Peter. They are beautiful. [There's a beat of silence while she very obviously tries (and fails) to figure out why anyone would just bring her a gift out of the blue -- well, anyone who is not thoroughly enchanted by her strange status as a hero.] I can bring you something home, the next time I'm out. Do you want anything in particular?

[Mantis, that's not how you do gifts.]

I—

[ His mouth tends to move faster than his mind, which is why he starts talking before he can properly think on what it is that Mantis said.

But once it clicks, he shuts his mouth again, giving a shake of his head. ]

You don't have to do that. Really. I just— saw that stuff and, you know. Thought of you. That's all.

[That surprises her almost as much as Peter actually willingly spending time in her presence.] That is very kind of you. [And also completely unexpected.

She's left floundering a bit in the immediately awkward pause that follows. She has all the things that she should say to Peter -- the foremost among them being I'm sorry -- but none of it seems appropriate to the situation.

Or maybe that's just what she's telling herself when she can't seem to find the wherewithal to bring it all up again.]

I really love them.

[ He visibly relaxes at that, offering a small, quick smile. ]

Good. I'm glad.

[ He ducks his head for a second, fidgeting a little, messing with the sleeves of his shirt. The offering of the olive branch is out of the way, which mostly leaves the awkward part. The difficult part. And maybe he could just leave it as it is now, could just let the gift stand for itself to show that, hey, they're cool again! Pretend none of the early stuff happened! But—

That's not really fair to Mantis.

So Peter takes a deep breath, lets it out between his lips.

Then, slowly, ]

Listen. About what happened the other day.

[ No point specifying which "day" he means. He suspects they've both been thinking about it. ]

I, um. Wanted to... talk about it. If that's okay.

[Oh.

They're going to talk about it. Mantis slowly spins the bracelet around her wrist; it's a tangible reminder that he probably wouldn't have brought her nice gifts if his next action is to tell her to leave him alone forever.] Okay.

[It can't just hang in the air between them forever.] I'm sorry. [Those words are as difficult as she imagined that they would be.] You know that I didn't mean for that to happen?

[She's almost certain that he knows it had been completely accidental. In fact, she's actually sure that's the case, but there's a tension building that won't let her go until she hears confirmation of it.]

Yeah, no, I know. It wasn't like anything about what happened was in your control.

[ And it comes out on something of a sigh. He drags a hand down his face, mulling over his own words, and— ]

I'm sorry, too. I, uh...

[ Deep breath, Peter. You can do this. You're a big boy. You're completely capable of a genuine apology. ]

I... shouldn't have talked to you like that while it was happening. I just— I freaked out, and it wasn't your fault, but I was being a total dick and took it out on you, and—

[ He loses steam a little, shoulders dropping. ]

I'm sorry.

[She worries her lip while he's speaking. She did get mad at him during the incident and let her temper overwhelm whatever else she was feeling at the time -- which, in all likelihood, had probably helped her recover a more even keel.

She should be thanking him, not accepting an apology.]

I think we both freaked out. [She sighs and laces her fingers together in her lap -- an effort to keep from wringing her hands.] I'm sorry, too.

[ Peter breathes out a quick, humorless sort of laugh. ]

No, uh. I'm pretty sure I had that coming.

[ The way she had returned fire had been totally warranted, and even Peter is willing to admit that. ]

I think...

[ And he pauses, frowning down at the floor as his hands clench into fists. ]

I think— I mean, I know I've kind of been— [ a dick ] —distant, lately. But, um. If you ever need to, like... talk about it. All the stuff with— you know. With... Ego.

[ there's more than a little venom when he says the name. ]

I'm willing to listen.

[One side of her mouth quirks upward, just for a tiny moment. Yes, he really had deserved that little show of temper and she's just so relieved that he's not angry with her over it that she allows the amusement to show, just for a second.

But she sobers very quickly as he stumbles through his next statement. Her gaze drops to her hands and she Very Deliberately keeps them clasped together. She will not wring her hands.

Ego is a difficult subject. For all that he had been a completely awful person, he was and is the only parental figure she'd ever known. Sometimes - just sometimes - she even misses him. (Perhaps it's not him that she misses. Maybe it's the idea of having a family, those moments when he wasn't being so completely self-absorbed that she could almost pretend that he loved her.)

She nods, doesn't look up.] Me too. If you ever want to ask questions... [She nods again.] Me too.

[ The corner of his mouth pulls a little – a thoughtful little quirk, as he weighs whether or not to take Mantis up on that offer. There's a part of him that thinks it might be best for both of them if he leaves it alone, wonders if it would be easiest if they leave their apologies where they lie.

But another part of him, the part that had looked up in wonder at the dioramas floating around in Ego's museum, dedicated to himself, feels... curious. A little terrified, sure, but mostly curious.

Then, slowly, reluctance obvious in the careful cast of his words, ]

Did you... did you ever, um. Make friends with any of them?

[She looks up at him, honestly mildly startled that he actually decided to ask her a question. She nods before she finds the words.]

At first, when I was younger. [She worries at the heel of her hand with her thumb, not quite wringing her hands, but barely keeping from it.] I was so happy to have visitors.

[Existence on Ego's planet had been lonely on a good day.] After awhile, I stopped trying.

[The reason for that should be fairly obvious.]

[ He winces, nodding as she finishes – a signal that he understands, at least a little. ]

Right. Yeah.

[ just to fill the quiet, even if his voice is a little rough.

The next question is harder, and he has to work his way up to it, dredging up the courage with a few rallying breaths. ]

... How many of them did you see?

[She shrugs. He wants so many specifics and she's wiped them from her mind as thoroughly as she possibly can.]

He never stopped trying. Sometimes, there would be long periods when none would come. Sometimes, they would arrive one right after another. [And sometimes, she would go with him when he took it upon himself to seek out one of his children.

But she doesn't think that is what Peter wants to know.] Once, when I was very young, I remember a boy who was older than me. I followed him everywhere. He told me stories about Ravagers and cosmic storms and creatures in the dark places and how he would fight them off. I wanted to go to all these fantastic places he told me about.

[There's a burning behind her eyes.] I think Ego thought that I was too fascinated by the idea of having a friend. He made me go stay in my room one day.

[And that was the end of that budding friendship.] I miss him.

[ The mention of the Ravagers makes him go rigid, straightening in his seat.

... Ego had told him, of course, about how he had tasked Yondu with retrieving some of the children he had sired across the galaxy. Peter wonders if the kid Mantis is talking about is one of the many Yondu had brought to Ego's planet.

Would it matter if it was? Probably not, but the thought still drifts across his mind.

When he catches the anger in her eyes, when he sees the regret that darkens her face, Peter casts her a quick, sympathetic look. ]

He sounds like he was a good kid.

He was. [She's pretty sure that they all were, in some way, good. Not that they would ever know. She presses her lips together, clearly uncomfortable in this conversation -- but not so anxious that she is on the verge of running away.

It's a step up.]

I'm sorry, Peter. For all of it. I wish there had been something I could do.

Hey, no.

[ He moves forward to the edge of his seat, ducking his head a little to better catch her gaze. ]

Listen. None of that was on you, okay? You were just a kid, trying to get by. I mean, I get that. I lived that.

None of that was your fault.

[She raises her gaze to meet his, silently assessing his words and his lack of condemnation. To hear it means more to her than she can say, after walking on eggshells and constantly wondering where she stands after all of that.]

You lived it?

[ He hesitates with the question – there’s a whole lot of complicated shit between him and Yondu, and maybe if they had defeated Ego, maybe if the Storm hadn’t arrived when it had, maybe (maybe, maybe) the two of them could have gotten gloriously drunk and finally just... hashed out what the hell they meant to each other. Maybe if they had had time, Peter would have grabbed Yondu by the arm to keep the old bastard from running off, and the two of them could have gotten it all out on the table and reached some sort of understanding.

(Apparently, Peter takes it for granted that everyone would have survived the encounter with Ego. The Guardians have gotten by on pure, dumb luck so far. Why shouldn’t that keep holding for them?)

Instead, Peter has decades of a shitty childhood under his belt. He has a blue asshole who looked after him for nearly thirty years of his life, who, in spite of everything, came to help rescue him.

... It’s fucking complicated. And Peter wishes Yondu were awake so they could just. Figure it the hell out.

But, right. Easier things to tackle – for a given value of “easier,” considering how thorny this all is. ]

I... well. When Yondu took me, he made it pretty clear that I needed to do what I was told, or else they’d kill me. And the Ravager lifestyle wasn’t exactly— I mean, you could hardly call it “wholesome.”

So I stole things, and I fought, and I killed, and— I mean, admittedly, I’m pretty good at it now, but back then, I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to be a good guy, you know? The kinda guy who helped the helpless and solved problems and did the right thing, like Captain Kirk or Luke Skywalker. But it was either fall in line, or get chucked out of an airlock.

So... you know. Not amazing choices.

[She understands.

Okay, she might not understand the particulars of his situation and she might not be familiar with overt threats - Ego always implied more than he directly stated, but Mantis had very quickly learned to parse meaning between his words.]

All I remember is Ego. [A story for a story. Sort of.] He found me. I do not know where I am from or why he decided to bring me home. Good behavior was rewarded. Bad behavior was punished.

Not amazing choices. [She repeats it with a wry, humorless little quirk of her lips.] I think that we both did the best that we could.

[ Some day, his jaw will stop clenching at the sound of Ego's name, and at some point, he'll stop feeling that sour curl of disgust in his gut for it.

Today definitely isn't that day, and this conversation is bringing that particular quirk to light pretty often. ]

Yeah.

[ a little roughly, a little quietly. He takes a breath, letting it slowly, then, ]

We played the hands we were dealt. Obviously they weren't great, but— they're what we had.

[ He pauses, thinking it over, before catching Mantis' gaze. ]

It took a lot of guts, telling Drax everything and going against Ego.

[She shakes her head. Telling Drax of Ego's plans had been born solely of fear; it had been the only way some of them might have survived. If Ego caught her, she would have been dead. If Ego succeeded in his plan, she would have been dead.]

Drax let me feel what he felt when he spoke of his daughter. I-- I had never known... [She falters a bit. She still wonders what it might have been like if Ego had actually loved her.]

If Ego had caught me, I think he would have killed me. But his Expansion would have done the same thing. I didn't want to be party to another death, especially not after knowing what it's supposed to feel like. [There's a part of her, though, that knows she wouldn't have been able to keep doing it. If she had reached a point where facing death didn't faze her anymore, then it wouldn't have taken much of a push to take care of that herself.

If Ego would have let her.] If you and your friends had stopped him... I didn't think that far ahead.

[Who is she to hope?]

[ She's definitely downplaying her contribution to the whole thing, he thinks. She played a big part in guiding them, in pointing them in the right direction. Peter's not entirely sure why she doesn't seem to recognize it, but maybe that's just... conditioning at work? He's not sure.

When she trails off, though, he shrugs. ]

You would've come with us.

[ And he says it with absolute certainty. ]

If you wanted to, anyway. I mean, obviously we're... kind of an acquired taste, so if you decided to go your own way, there wouldn't have been any hard feelings.

[Some of the weight seems to lift from her shoulders. Lately, here in Wyver, she'd wondered once in awhile if her part in this little group had been simply out of obligation. Some odd need to make sure that one other person they met from their previous lives turned out okay.

So to hear that she would have had the opportunity even if the Storm hadn't come lifts a weight from her shoulders that the remnants of the Storm, with its memories walking among the living, had given her.]

I don't want to. [Go her own way, she means.] You are my friends.

[ It’s such an oddly genuine and simple declaration, that Peter offers a small, pleased little smile for it. ]

Yeah. So there you go, then. You’re one of us, if you wanna be.

[ Simple as that.

The Guardians were in something of a habit of picking up strays, after all, considering that’s what they all were before the met. Just a bunch of lost, lonely people, who were startled to join up with something larger, more important than themselves.

It’s weird, and it’s messy, but that’s kind of how family is in the first place, right? So it works.

He falls quiet for a breath before he frowns, head tilting slightly. ]

Was that not obvious? I mean, you’ve been with us for a while now.

[She worries her lip and lets herself think about her response before she says anything. It's a complex question and she could answer in a thousand different ways. The only friends she had ever had were taken from her after a very short time and she never learned how to maintain an actual relationship.

The only lens she's ever viewed one through is Ego's.

She's learning and she's afraid she's fouling it up every time she speaks.]

I don't know how to have friends. I was very afraid that if I messed up being a friend somehow, you might decide that there were better people to be your friends.

[A breath.] I was part of some very bad things. I would not have blamed you if you decided to tell me to leave you alone.

[ He lets her work her way through it, staying silent to give her time. And when she finishes, he nods a little in understanding.

He licks his lips, eyebrows knitting together as he chooses his own words. Then, carefully, ]

You know— all of us have done some pretty awful things. Stuff we might be ashamed of. And... I think we're all still trying to figure this out, you know? Having friends. Having family.

[ He pauses for a second, before he leans forward, elbows resting on his legs and his hands clasping loosely together. ]

What I'm trying to say is, I think we've all got a good idea of how difficult this can be. It was pretty unfamiliar territory for a lot of us. We know how it is.

... So, I think you're kind of in good company, if that makes any sense.

[She has never spent much time around a person who lets her work through her own thoughts -- or even lets her have her own thoughts. She's learning to set aside a lifetime of conditioning in the not-quite year she's been in this place.

Sometimes, she still stumbles, as evidenced by the fact that she and Peter have to have this conversation.]

It makes sense. [She pauses, lips pressed together for a moment.] The only family I ever had was Ego. I don't think he gave me a good idea of what family actually is. I'm trying to learn, too.

Screw Ego.

[ And the words just— fall out of him, heated and sharp. He doesn’t even realize he’s thinking it before he hears himself say them.

He frowns at himself for a second, not quite embarrassed but something that might share a few blood relatives with it, but he quickly decides, Fuck it. It’s not like it’s any big secret how Peter feels about the guy. ]

I can tell you right now, whatever idea he had on family was messed up and totally wrong. Hell, Ego was just... wrong. About everything. Full stop.

And I’m not saying we’re perfect? But we’re definitely a lot better at this family thing than he ever was.

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closed; dive down deep to save my head

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