[ Just around an hour later, Rose can be found in the outskirts of the garden. Strapped to her back is a guitar that's actually not the usual one she totes around. It's a cherry red electric Fender; the instrument was also a gift from the lovely evil overlords during her time here in Haven. Naturally, she'd won it by murdering someone who she used to call her friend so it makes sense Yao would reward her for that.
The garden used to be a place she loathed. Now though? It was... peaceful. Quiet. A place to clear her mind when nowhere else seemed to do. She won't forget how the vines choked the life straight out of Sam and she watched the light from his eyes fade. Dean and her could only watch, useless to stop them. He'd never come back. Her Sam wouldn't anyway. There were those that came after him with no recollection of Haven and nothing but neutrality towards her. But she remembers her versions of people, the ones she came to care for.
She wonders if Sam and Dean both would be disappointed in what she's become?
As she reminisces, a quiet song floats from her lips - 99 Red Balloons - as it usually does. An Audrey II nearby sways to the tune mindlessly and she smiles. Her hands stay planted firmly in the front pocket of her jacket as she stands there. ]
[ True to his word, Peter shows up five minutes late. No chocolates, no flowers. Just himself and a healthy dose of wariness, because-- you know. The garden.
He thought it was odd that she wanted to meet here, but, hey, maybe she had a thing for crazy Venus flytraps from outer space?
He's known weirder women, for sure.
Naturally, her voice carries to him before he sees her, and-- he thinks he recognizes that song. "99 Red Balloons." He remembers it from when he was a kid, anyway, and he remembers liking the German version better. He was never really sure why -- he couldn't understand a word of it. ]
Hey. [ He's careful to make some noise as he approaches -- he's found most people don't like being surprised, especially not in a place like this. ] You wanted to see me?
[ A good call on Peter's part since she just happens to be a bit more skittish than usual. Understandable, considering she hasn't really slept or... done much of anything normal people should do since her visit with R.
Her song stops and she turns to look at him with a smile ready. ]
That I did, Star-Lord. [ With little effort, she drops the guitar sling off her shoulder and onto her good arm. It's lifted over head with a little awkward then she turns to hand it to him. Her other hand, he may note, is kept tucked away in that front pocket carefully. ]
So, don't think too much into it but - I wanted you to have this. I can teach you how to play. Or at least, uh, try to.
[ And before he can say anything, there's a little explanation for what prompted this even if it's still vague- ]
I just want someone who I know likes music like I do to have it, I guess. I'm not gonna' get much out it anymore and I can't stand the sight of two guitars sitting around sad and unused.
Okay, Peter looks immediately suspicious, if only because-- this is seriously out of the blue. Peter doesn't get gifts, not for no reason anyway. There's always a hitch. There's a quickly added, and by the way...
That, and he doesn't miss the way she looks -- how ragged and tired, worn around the edges she appears. He doesn't miss the way she awkwardly pulls the guitar off with one hand, when she could've easily used two.
Peter was raised to be a paranoid bastard, and he puts it to good use when it matters.
He takes the guitar if only so she doesn't have to keep holding it out to him, but he rests its base on the ground, holds it by its neck so it doesn't fall over. She provided him an explanation, sure, but rather than make him feel better? It just sets off a shitton more warning bells.
There are a lot of alarms going off, is what we're saying. A whole fucking lot. It's like all the banks in a tri-state area are being robbed in unison.
His eyes are still narrowed, his brows knitting together, and when he speaks, his voice is stern as fucking hell. His rarely used Star-Lord voice. ]
[ Try to make a kind gesture and get rewarded with skepticism! Though his suspicions are completely fair. There is another reason behind the handing down of her guitar but she seems hesitant - to say the least - about actually explaining.
The tone he takes makes her shrink a little. Yeah. That's... understandable. It's good, too, because anger whether it be hers or someone else's is easiest for her to cope with. ]
So. You gotta' promise you won't freak out. Alright?
[ SHE'S TRUSTING HIM HERE. Cue more awkward uncertainty before she very, very slowly pulls her other hand out from the pocket it was resting in.
Only he'll immediately see that where her hand should be, there's simply nothing. Past her jagged wrist is empty space. Her physiology has already allowed it to mostly heal but what's left is still not a pretty sight. She lets her arm fall to her side, gaze averted to the ground because she can't bring herself to see what Peter's reaction might be. ]
[ He just. Freezes. And his face goes blank, and-- mostly he's kind of horrified. ]
Oh, fuck. [ And it comes out on an exhale. ] Rosie--
[ Because shit, that looks painful. He knows a fucking hack job when he sees one, has seen the end results more than once while he was on the Eclector. On instinct he reaches out to inspect her injury more closely, but he stops himself, clenches his hand into a fist instead. ]
What the hell happened? [ And he's angry, certainly, but it's a quiet sort of rage warring with concern. ]
[ It's incredibly painful. It's a lot of the reason why she hasn't slept. That and they took her while she was sleeping so there's just a tiny bit of trauma there. Add on the nightmare fuel, it's cool. Rose is nothing if not strong though; she's powered through being nearly clawed to death by a werewolf. She can handle this. ]
I... tried to make a deal with Yao.
[ As he can guess, it didn't work out in her favor. ]
They have something I need [ a quick fix, an end to a problem they'd created in the first place ] but couldn't make it worth it. So when I said I 'no deal' their representative basically said I stole their time and money. And apparently this [ a vague movement of her arm and a glance to her wrist before she finally looks up at Peter ] is what they do to thieves.
[ For a second? He's kind of pissed. Because that's the fucking stupidest thing he's heard today, and it shows in a brief flash across his face.
But she doesn't need that lecture. She clearly has that lesson on her body in spades.
So the need to do something overtakes his worry and his anger. He hefts up the guitar and slips the strap over his head, grabbing her gently by the elbow of her good arm. ]
C'mon. [ His voice softens by only a bit, but it's still tense with concern. ] You've gotta go see one of the doctors. Those Yao assholes fucked this up bad.
[ Now it's her to turn to freeze, to lock up; she suddenly seems way more tense than is comfortable. ]
I haven't told but a couple people about this yet. I mean. Only one person knew I was actually going to try talking to Yao and, I just. I don't want everyone finding out and - [ Take a breath, Rose. Calm down. ] I don't trust any of the doctors or healers or whoever to keep quiet.
I'll tell people. I just need to find the right way. [ Wade and Hiruma and Jesse even are
going to be so pissed. Or, even worse, disappointed in her for being so stupid. So she's still trying to figure out the best way to break it to them. ]
- I'll be alright. [ So yeah. She really did just make the weakest attempt at playing the 'I'm fine' card when she's clearly not. ]
Rose. [ He's tense. Worried as fuck, because-- he hasn't seen anyone hurt like this in a long time. Certainly not anyone he's considered a friend, anyway (and that's a funny sort of admission, to think of her as a friend where he has no clue where he stands with her).
He swallows, licks his lips, and glances down at her wrist. Her skin looks raw and red, but healing, and he grimaces. It-- he's not a doctor, but it doesn't look infected, even if it does look rough as fuck. Painful. He lets go of her elbow and uses that same hand to scrub his face. ]
You need to at least keep this bandaged, okay? It'll just get worse otherwise. Jesus, dude--
[ Fuck, this is screwed up. This is so fucking screwed up. She told him not to freak out, and he's not, not quite, but shit, this is so fucked up. ]
The hell did you go to those assholes for, anyway? What the hell did you need so bad that you'd fuck around with those shitmongers?
Yeah, I will. The... uh. The first aid stuff is at house one though.
[ As in, she hasn't been there much since coming back from her bargain gone wrong with Yao. Sakamoto kind of tipped her off that she wouldn't get sick anymore if she didn't stay there so she's just been kind of meandering around for the past couple of days. Getting her guitar without being seen had been awfully difficult to pull off, actually. And who knows when she'll actually gather up the courage to face her housemates.
This is probably not the time to ask if she can crash at his place though. Best that she shouldn't crash at anyone's, really, because of the whole 'oh my god what happened to your hand' scenario with just about everyone she might run into. She trusts Peter to keep quiet but not his roommates. ]
They kind of... screwed me over in a big way once already. Kite did, anyway. I figured if they had the power to mess me up, they had the power to fix me. [ The best reasoning. ] Nothing else was working and I... I was desperate.
[ After devouring Wade's heart and thinking she'd murdered the only person who could help, she was willing to do anything to make this stop. In reality, losing her hand actually isn't the worst thing that could have happened so... thank goodness for them not pulling one of the other stunts she's seen in her time here. ]
[ Okay. Okay. This-- isn't a conversation they should be having here. He's pretty sure his housing block is currently empty, so-- ]
C'mon. [ This time he doesn't take her arm, but he walks backwards a few steps, trying to get her to follow. ] I've got bandages and shit back at my place. Not too many people there, so even if someone is there, we can get in and out without having to fuck around with chit-chat.
[ He's quiet on their way to housing block 17 (because what the fuck does he even say that won't make him sound pissed or frustrated or really, really, really freaked out, because that's totally his mental state right now, just a weird yogurt swirl of everything), and he motions for her to wait as he peeks in.
Luck is on their side, for once -- looks like the place has been vacated for the time being, and he leads her into the center room he shares with Cheriour. If these were normal circumstances? He'd make a joke about leaving a necktie on the doorknob as he shuts the door behind them. But these aren't normal circumstances, these are seriously fucked up circumstances. Like, seriously fucked. Like, Jesus.
But he swallows down that urge to panic, busies himself with pulling bandages, cloth, and disinfectant out of the storage cabinet at the foot of his bed. As long as he's moving and has something to do, he can keep himself from totally flipping the fuck out at Rosie what the fuck was she thinking what the fuck what the fuck why didn't you tell me you were having trouble earlier.
(But that's her business. It's not usually in Peter's nature to pry, but right now? He really fucking wants to.)
Strangely, his expression stays pretty grim, pretty serious throughout his silent meltdown; the only indication of his worry is the way his jaw clenches when he glances over at her injured arm. He pours some of the disinfectant onto a waded-up piece of cloth and moves over to her. ]
[ This is exactly the kind of reaction she was afraid of. Everything feels so heavy; she'd much rather have the jokes and nonchalance any day. That's what helps her. Otherwise, it's just a lot of quiet anger and too much time spent lost in her own twisted thoughts about this all.
She wants to say something, anything to break the silence that pervades everything. All she actually does though is sit and wait. ]
You got it.
[ Though she's been trying to hide it behind the hem of her jacket collar, he'll likely notice as he comes in close that her neck is bruised all the way round. They're blue and black - so a couple days old, like her surprise amputation - and ache plenty too. But she's good at powering through pain; she's good at acting like it doesn't matter that her hand was lobbed off and she was nearly asphyxiated by vines and that she's bone deep tired and screwed up beyond any fathomable sense of the expression. ]
[ He sees the bruises peeking just above the collar of her jacket, feels something flare in his chest at the thought of those fucking assholes, those goddamn fucking bastards, and for a brief second, he just hears the questions he wants to ask (why? What the fuck did they do to you? Why the fuck would you go to them? Why didn’t you say anything?) and sees red. His hands shake as they tighten over the wad of cloth and bandages.
(The thing about Peter? He has a long fuse. He's quick to annoy, quick to frustrate, but all out anger? It's a slow burn. Words don't hurt him, and neither does physical pain (though that sucks no matter what). It takes knowing his weakness. It takes fucking with anything that means a lot to him. His Walkman. His family. His friends.
And right now, Peter's furious.)
He takes a breath, wills himself to calm down and for his vision to clear -- because those fucking Yao shitstains aren't here right now. They don't have eyes and ears here anymore. Right now it's just him, Rosie, and wounds that needs taking care of. So he focuses on this. Focuses on her. Focuses on now. Focuses on the problem he can solve and leaves the bigger problems to the men and women better handled to tackle it.
He thinks, Those motherfuckers will regret this.
He takes her injured wrist as gently as he can and pauses before he touches the cloth to her skin. ]
Sorry, man. [ His voice is still a little strained, but not as badly as before. He's trying to get himself under control. ] This is gonna sting like a motherfucker.
[ It's the only warning she gets before he sets about the work of disinfecting the injury. He's silent for a few seconds before swallowing thickly, and fuck, he feels sick. He feels terrible for her. He wants to know what the fuck drove her to go to those sadistic fuckers, but-- it'll come out in time.
Focus on this. Focus on her. Focus on now.
After the quiet settles awkwardly over them, he licks his lips, forces some levity into his voice. ]
[ Though it does occur to her ( and has, several times since she woke up ) that the Yao Corporation is a bunch of psychotic bastards, what doesn't occur to her immediately is that Peter is acting the way he is because of her. She figures he must be angry because she's an absolute idiot or that she didn't tell him anything and, well, she's right to a certain degree. But it doesn't even cross her mind yet that he's also upset at the fact that she's been hurt unnecessarily. Because to her? It isn't.
Part of her, as fucked up as it is, believes that this is deserved. All the pain, suffering, mental, physical, and psychological torture that Haven puts her through is her penance for the lives that have ended by her hands. She can try to convince herself all day long that there was no choice - that it was her life or theirs - but it's difficult to truly believe that most days. So these almost two years now she's been waiting for absolution. Sometimes she's sure it will never come because this is Hell and where she's meant to rot for eternity.
But then the people she's met here, good people like Sakamoto or Wally or Wade or even Peter that make her think otherwise. They may be 'good' in unorthodox ways but they still are, at least to her, and they don't deserve any of this. So it begs the question: Why does she? There's a plethora of reasons she could come up with to justify why but, ultimately, the same things didn't apply to several others here and her logic simply collapsed upon itself.
So she considers this. If put in Peter's position, there wouldn't be words for how furious she'd be. There's the memory again of the garden and the vines choking Sam - had that been R's work, too? - and how devastated she'd been because he was her friend; she cared about him and they hurt him, took him away, and it was so painful but rage-inducing all at the same time because how could they.
And there's realization that she's felt what Peter's feeling now. How could they. How could they hurt her like this. But that means he cares about her, doesn't it? It's a silent startling wonder of a thing that he and Wally and Sakamoto and Wade and others care about her like she does them; that she's important to them and though she can't fathom why ( what was so great about her? there were so many better people out there ) they do and it's all that matters. That they do, that some people - no matter how much they shouldn't - find something worthwhile in her gives her hope that maybe she will as well. It's a hope that gets her through most days, through things like this. A hope that maybe, despite what she may tell herself, she can still fight back and not be the monster everyone said she would, that her life seems determined to make her out to be.
Part of her feels like she should apologize to him. It wouldn't do much good now though, would it? Too little, too late. She'll work on, instead, maybe being a bit more honest. Open. ... Well, aside from the bit about being a monster that eats human flesh. At least for right now. Thankfully, she's exclusively eating one person so it shouldn't ever really be an issue. Maybe she's lucky and he actually likes a little bite to his ladies.
Ahem. She digresses.
Her epiphany is interrupted by him grabbing her wrist and she registers the 'sorry' a little too late. She lets out a low, quiet groan of pain but compared to actually losing the damn hand? This is nothing. ]
You know, they actually played a movie here once. Toy Tale? Toy Saga? There was a three in there somewhere too, I think.
It wasn't half bad for an animated film. Not my thing but not half bad.
[ He winces the moment she groans, murmuring a quiet apology. ]
Can't say I've seen it.
[ Which, well, he can say that about a lot of movies, really. He swaps the cloth for bandages and starts wrapping her arm. ]
Tell me if it's too tight. [ Focus on this. Focus on now. And his voice is a little distant as he works. He really wants to say, Tell me what happened, but he can be patient when it's necessary. Being raised a thief means knowing when to wait for his moment. ] Tell me about the movie. Any good parts?
It was... about toys that came to life when people weren't looking. Kind of creepy, really.
[ Her voice kind of wavers in and out at the moment; it's like she's talking just to make noise. And really? She is. She can't stand anymore of the silence. Or the pain radiating from her wrist as he works. ]
I don't remember it really well. I think at some point the toys are donated to a daycare... that's run by an evil pink stuffed teddy bear. So they have to escape and get back to their owner. Shenanigans and adventure ensue.
[ He hums in response -- the only acknowledgement that he's listening. He's concentrating on this. Concentrating on wrapping the bandage, because this is what he can fix. This is easy, this is simple.
(This is fixing a tiny leak when half the hull is gone. This is missing the forest for the trees.)
He ties off the bandage, careful not to tie it too tightly. Life as a thief meant injuries, and solo work meant having to patch himself up. The bandage maybe isn't wrapped as nicely as a professional would do it, but it's secure, at least, and he was careful not to make it too tight or too loose.
He looks up, gaze catching on the bruises on her neck again, and he grimaces. He should've-- he's not sure. Should've pressed more, he guesses. He should've asked what the fuck was going on with her instead of sitting back and waiting. Peter's not used to the idea of being a friend -- hell, he doesn't even know if they are friends. He's just the guy who keeps showing up to slap on a band-aid and send her on her way. ]
[ There's no complaint on the workmanship of his bandaging on her end. She's grateful for his help, really, even if she isn't the best at expressing that sort of thing. Right now, she's hardly capable of expressing much besides being ridiculously exhausted.
Being a fighter meant patching herself up on more than one occasion too but since the sight of her hand did ( and still slightly does ) make her want to lose her lunch just about every time it's probably for the best someone else handled it. ]
Newt does. [ But she'd told him not to tell; she said she'd figure it out and kind of... ran off in a panic. ] Sakamoto. Wally. And you. But that's it.
You-- you know how you're gonna break the news to 'em yet?
[ As he's asking, he moves to sit beside her on the bed -- not too close, since he knows she has personal bubble issues, but not so far that she'd feel like a leper or something.
He's-- pretty fucking concerned, still, and his gaze keeps flicking to her neck. It-- fuck, that looks painful, and he wishes he knew even a teensy bit of what was going through her head that made her go to Yao.
[ A distinct pause follows his question as if she's carefully considering it. Finally, she exhales slowly and her head drops a little. Not without a slight grimace from the pain in her neck though. ]
Not a clue. [ Wade is who she's most scared of coming clean to, admittedly. But after what she'd done to him, she... she was terrified. Desperate. It couldn't happen again because what if it wasn't him next time.
Normal people don't pop back up like daisies after getting their hearts eaten. ]
I'll probably wait until I heal a bit more. So they aren't as freaked out. [ ... ] Sorry about that, actually. I probably should've waited to tell you too.
[ Newt got the worst of it actually. He saw her right after she woke up and had to deal with her being a traumatized trainwreck of emotions. ]
Nah. Better you told me now. I, um. [ He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. His gaze flicks to her bruises (obvious signs of strangulation, and he feels that heat flaring in his gut again), and his jaw clenches briefly. ]
I wish you had said somethin' earlier, is all. [ His voice is quiet again, tense. ] About whatever problem you were dealing with. I mean, I know you probably don't trust me much-- [ considering the on-again, off-again silent treatment she's been giving him ] --and that I'm not exactly the poster child for, like, bein' particularly open, either, but-- I dunno. Just saying I would've wanted to help.
[ And-- that little bit is a lot more honest than Peter's been in a long, long while, and he directs his attention to the floorboards. ]
There's a moment of silence that follows his words as she contemplates them. Letting people in has always been bad news. Not for her but for them. Haven was different but... old habits die hard, as the saying goes. But when she sees her friends, people she cares about, worry for her ( even though she can't comprehend why, her chest feels tight and her heart weighs heavy with guilt.
That's the exact opposite of what she wants.
What Peter might think of her if he knew what she was, the things she'd done also scares her more than she'll likely ever admit. Because she likes him and she likes what they have going and although it might be selfish of her she doesn't want to lose it.
There was no way he could help but she can't tell him that without explaining everything and, well. The bottom line is she's just not sure she's ready to. It had taken her nearly a year to tell Sakamoto that she wasn't human, then even longer about her struggle after Kite willingly and he was probably one of her - maybe only - best friends in this place.
She scoots closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his. ]
Hey. I'm sorry for not letting you know. It's... a little late now, really, to try and get into it all since it's been going on for a while but. Trust me when I say there wasn't much you could do to stop things from happening the way they did. No one could. I'm kind of ridiculously stubborn like that. Once I get my mind made up on something, it's gonna' happen. [ Here is a weak attempt at a smile that fades as fast as it appears. ]
I can promise you this though. I'll be more honest from now on, alright? Nothing should ever get this bad again. I mean, I can never say never in this place but... I'll let you know. You don't have to worry about me getting all creepy and sharing every detail of my life, but. I won't shut you out anymore.
[ At least, she'll try her damn hardest not to. It's instinct to deflect, to avoid, and use half-truths to cover up what's really going on but if he asks... she won't, at least, outright lie anymore. That's the least she can do for putting him through all this. ]
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[ Just around an hour later, Rose can be found in the outskirts of the garden. Strapped to her back is a guitar that's actually not the usual one she totes around. It's a cherry red electric Fender; the instrument was also a gift from the lovely evil overlords during her time here in Haven. Naturally, she'd won it by murdering someone who she used to call her friend so it makes sense Yao would reward her for that.
The garden used to be a place she loathed. Now though? It was... peaceful. Quiet. A place to clear her mind when nowhere else seemed to do. She won't forget how the vines choked the life straight out of Sam and she watched the light from his eyes fade. Dean and her could only watch, useless to stop them. He'd never come back. Her Sam wouldn't anyway. There were those that came after him with no recollection of Haven and nothing but neutrality towards her. But she remembers her versions of people, the ones she came to care for.
She wonders if Sam and Dean both would be disappointed in what she's become?
As she reminisces, a quiet song floats from her lips - 99 Red Balloons - as it usually does. An Audrey II nearby sways to the tune mindlessly and she smiles. Her hands stay planted firmly in the front pocket of her jacket as she stands there. ]
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He thought it was odd that she wanted to meet here, but, hey, maybe she had a thing for crazy Venus flytraps from outer space?
He's known weirder women, for sure.
Naturally, her voice carries to him before he sees her, and-- he thinks he recognizes that song. "99 Red Balloons." He remembers it from when he was a kid, anyway, and he remembers liking the German version better. He was never really sure why -- he couldn't understand a word of it. ]
Hey. [ He's careful to make some noise as he approaches -- he's found most people don't like being surprised, especially not in a place like this. ] You wanted to see me?
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Her song stops and she turns to look at him with a smile ready. ]
That I did, Star-Lord. [ With little effort, she drops the guitar sling off her shoulder and onto her good arm. It's lifted over head with a little awkward then she turns to hand it to him. Her other hand, he may note, is kept tucked away in that front pocket carefully. ]
So, don't think too much into it but - I wanted you to have this. I can teach you how to play. Or at least, uh, try to.
[ And before he can say anything, there's a little explanation for what prompted this even if it's still vague- ]
I just want someone who I know likes music like I do to have it, I guess. I'm not gonna' get much out it anymore and I can't stand the sight of two guitars sitting around sad and unused.
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Okay, Peter looks immediately suspicious, if only because-- this is seriously out of the blue. Peter doesn't get gifts, not for no reason anyway. There's always a hitch. There's a quickly added, and by the way...
That, and he doesn't miss the way she looks -- how ragged and tired, worn around the edges she appears. He doesn't miss the way she awkwardly pulls the guitar off with one hand, when she could've easily used two.
Peter was raised to be a paranoid bastard, and he puts it to good use when it matters.
He takes the guitar if only so she doesn't have to keep holding it out to him, but he rests its base on the ground, holds it by its neck so it doesn't fall over. She provided him an explanation, sure, but rather than make him feel better? It just sets off a shitton more warning bells.
There are a lot of alarms going off, is what we're saying. A whole fucking lot. It's like all the banks in a tri-state area are being robbed in unison.
His eyes are still narrowed, his brows knitting together, and when he speaks, his voice is stern as fucking hell. His rarely used Star-Lord voice. ]
Rosie. Tell me what's wrong.
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The tone he takes makes her shrink a little. Yeah. That's... understandable. It's good, too, because anger whether it be hers or someone else's is easiest for her to cope with. ]
So. You gotta' promise you won't freak out. Alright?
[ SHE'S TRUSTING HIM HERE. Cue more awkward uncertainty before she very, very slowly pulls her other hand out from the pocket it was resting in.
Only he'll immediately see that where her hand should be, there's simply nothing. Past her jagged wrist is empty space. Her physiology has already allowed it to mostly heal but what's left is still not a pretty sight. She lets her arm fall to her side, gaze averted to the ground because she can't bring herself to see what Peter's reaction might be. ]
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Oh, fuck. [ And it comes out on an exhale. ] Rosie--
[ Because shit, that looks painful. He knows a fucking hack job when he sees one, has seen the end results more than once while he was on the Eclector. On instinct he reaches out to inspect her injury more closely, but he stops himself, clenches his hand into a fist instead. ]
What the hell happened? [ And he's angry, certainly, but it's a quiet sort of rage warring with concern. ]
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I... tried to make a deal with Yao.
[ As he can guess, it didn't work out in her favor. ]
They have something I need [ a quick fix, an end to a problem they'd created in the first place ] but couldn't make it worth it. So when I said I 'no deal' their representative basically said I stole their time and money. And apparently this [ a vague movement of her arm and a glance to her wrist before she finally looks up at Peter ] is what they do to thieves.
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But she doesn't need that lecture. She clearly has that lesson on her body in spades.
So the need to do something overtakes his worry and his anger. He hefts up the guitar and slips the strap over his head, grabbing her gently by the elbow of her good arm. ]
C'mon. [ His voice softens by only a bit, but it's still tense with concern. ] You've gotta go see one of the doctors. Those Yao assholes fucked this up bad.
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[ Now it's her to turn to freeze, to lock up; she suddenly seems way more tense than is comfortable. ]
I haven't told but a couple people about this yet. I mean. Only one person knew I was actually going to try talking to Yao and, I just. I don't want everyone finding out and - [ Take a breath, Rose. Calm down. ] I don't trust any of the doctors or healers or whoever to keep quiet.
I'll tell people. I just need to find the right way. [ Wade and Hiruma and Jesse even are
going to be so pissed. Or, even worse, disappointed in her for being so stupid. So she's still trying to figure out the best way to break it to them. ]
- I'll be alright. [ So yeah. She really did just make the weakest attempt at playing the 'I'm fine' card when she's clearly not. ]
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He swallows, licks his lips, and glances down at her wrist. Her skin looks raw and red, but healing, and he grimaces. It-- he's not a doctor, but it doesn't look infected, even if it does look rough as fuck. Painful. He lets go of her elbow and uses that same hand to scrub his face. ]
You need to at least keep this bandaged, okay? It'll just get worse otherwise. Jesus, dude--
[ Fuck, this is screwed up. This is so fucking screwed up. She told him not to freak out, and he's not, not quite, but shit, this is so fucked up. ]
The hell did you go to those assholes for, anyway? What the hell did you need so bad that you'd fuck around with those shitmongers?
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[ As in, she hasn't been there much since coming back from her bargain gone wrong with Yao. Sakamoto kind of tipped her off that she wouldn't get sick anymore if she didn't stay there so she's just been kind of meandering around for the past couple of days. Getting her guitar without being seen had been awfully difficult to pull off, actually. And who knows when she'll actually gather up the courage to face her housemates.
This is probably not the time to ask if she can crash at his place though. Best that she shouldn't crash at anyone's, really, because of the whole 'oh my god what happened to your hand' scenario with just about everyone she might run into. She trusts Peter to keep quiet but not his roommates. ]
They kind of... screwed me over in a big way once already. Kite did, anyway. I figured if they had the power to mess me up, they had the power to fix me. [ The best reasoning. ] Nothing else was working and I... I was desperate.
[ After devouring Wade's heart and thinking she'd murdered the only person who could help, she was willing to do anything to make this stop. In reality, losing her hand actually isn't the worst thing that could have happened so... thank goodness for them not pulling one of the other stunts she's seen in her time here. ]
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C'mon. [ This time he doesn't take her arm, but he walks backwards a few steps, trying to get her to follow. ] I've got bandages and shit back at my place. Not too many people there, so even if someone is there, we can get in and out without having to fuck around with chit-chat.
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But hrrrgghhh, her hand hurts a metric fuck ton still too. There's a moment of indecision and awkward pause before she lets out a resigned sigh. ]
Alright. [ She shoves her hands in her pocket and starts to follow him, however hesitant her steps may be. ]
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Luck is on their side, for once -- looks like the place has been vacated for the time being, and he leads her into the center room he shares with Cheriour. If these were normal circumstances? He'd make a joke about leaving a necktie on the doorknob as he shuts the door behind them. But these aren't normal circumstances, these are seriously fucked up circumstances. Like, seriously fucked. Like, Jesus.
But he swallows down that urge to panic, busies himself with pulling bandages, cloth, and disinfectant out of the storage cabinet at the foot of his bed. As long as he's moving and has something to do, he can keep himself from totally flipping the fuck out at Rosie what the fuck was she thinking what the fuck what the fuck why didn't you tell me you were having trouble earlier.
(But that's her business. It's not usually in Peter's nature to pry, but right now? He really fucking wants to.)
Strangely, his expression stays pretty grim, pretty serious throughout his silent meltdown; the only indication of his worry is the way his jaw clenches when he glances over at her injured arm. He pours some of the disinfectant onto a waded-up piece of cloth and moves over to her. ]
Let me see. [ Command, not a question. ]
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She wants to say something, anything to break the silence that pervades everything. All she actually does though is sit and wait. ]
You got it.
[ Though she's been trying to hide it behind the hem of her jacket collar, he'll likely notice as he comes in close that her neck is bruised all the way round. They're blue and black - so a couple days old, like her surprise amputation - and ache plenty too. But she's good at powering through pain; she's good at acting like it doesn't matter that her hand was lobbed off and she was nearly asphyxiated by vines and that she's bone deep tired and screwed up beyond any fathomable sense of the expression. ]
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(The thing about Peter? He has a long fuse. He's quick to annoy, quick to frustrate, but all out anger? It's a slow burn. Words don't hurt him, and neither does physical pain (though that sucks no matter what). It takes knowing his weakness. It takes fucking with anything that means a lot to him. His Walkman. His family. His friends.
And right now, Peter's furious.)
He takes a breath, wills himself to calm down and for his vision to clear -- because those fucking Yao shitstains aren't here right now. They don't have eyes and ears here anymore. Right now it's just him, Rosie, and wounds that needs taking care of. So he focuses on this. Focuses on her. Focuses on now. Focuses on the problem he can solve and leaves the bigger problems to the men and women better handled to tackle it.
He thinks, Those motherfuckers will regret this.
He takes her injured wrist as gently as he can and pauses before he touches the cloth to her skin. ]
Sorry, man. [ His voice is still a little strained, but not as badly as before. He's trying to get himself under control. ] This is gonna sting like a motherfucker.
[ It's the only warning she gets before he sets about the work of disinfecting the injury. He's silent for a few seconds before swallowing thickly, and fuck, he feels sick. He feels terrible for her. He wants to know what the fuck drove her to go to those sadistic fuckers, but-- it'll come out in time.
Focus on this. Focus on her. Focus on now.
After the quiet settles awkwardly over them, he licks his lips, forces some levity into his voice. ]
So. Seen any good movies lately?
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Part of her, as fucked up as it is, believes that this is deserved. All the pain, suffering, mental, physical, and psychological torture that Haven puts her through is her penance for the lives that have ended by her hands. She can try to convince herself all day long that there was no choice - that it was her life or theirs - but it's difficult to truly believe that most days. So these almost two years now she's been waiting for absolution. Sometimes she's sure it will never come because this is Hell and where she's meant to rot for eternity.
But then the people she's met here, good people like Sakamoto or Wally or Wade or even Peter that make her think otherwise. They may be 'good' in unorthodox ways but they still are, at least to her, and they don't deserve any of this. So it begs the question: Why does she? There's a plethora of reasons she could come up with to justify why but, ultimately, the same things didn't apply to several others here and her logic simply collapsed upon itself.
So she considers this. If put in Peter's position, there wouldn't be words for how furious she'd be. There's the memory again of the garden and the vines choking Sam - had that been R's work, too? - and how devastated she'd been because he was her friend; she cared about him and they hurt him, took him away, and it was so painful but rage-inducing all at the same time because how could they.
And there's realization that she's felt what Peter's feeling now. How could they. How could they hurt her like this. But that means he cares about her, doesn't it? It's a silent startling wonder of a thing that he and Wally and Sakamoto and Wade and others care about her like she does them; that she's important to them and though she can't fathom why ( what was so great about her? there were so many better people out there ) they do and it's all that matters. That they do, that some people - no matter how much they shouldn't - find something worthwhile in her gives her hope that maybe she will as well. It's a hope that gets her through most days, through things like this. A hope that maybe, despite what she may tell herself, she can still fight back and not be the monster everyone said she would, that her life seems determined to make her out to be.
Part of her feels like she should apologize to him. It wouldn't do much good now though, would it? Too little, too late. She'll work on, instead, maybe being a bit more honest. Open. ... Well, aside from the bit about being a monster that eats human flesh. At least for right now. Thankfully, she's exclusively eating one person so it shouldn't ever really be an issue. Maybe she's lucky and he actually likes a little bite to his ladies.
Ahem. She digresses.
Her epiphany is interrupted by him grabbing her wrist and she registers the 'sorry' a little too late. She lets out a low, quiet groan of pain but compared to actually losing the damn hand? This is nothing. ]
You know, they actually played a movie here once. Toy Tale? Toy Saga? There was a three in there somewhere too, I think.
It wasn't half bad for an animated film. Not my thing but not half bad.
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Can't say I've seen it.
[ Which, well, he can say that about a lot of movies, really. He swaps the cloth for bandages and starts wrapping her arm.
]
Tell me if it's too tight. [ Focus on this. Focus on now. And his voice is a little distant as he works. He really wants to say, Tell me what happened, but he can be patient when it's necessary. Being raised a thief means knowing when to wait for his moment. ] Tell me about the movie. Any good parts?
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[ Her voice kind of wavers in and out at the moment; it's like she's talking just to make noise. And really? She is. She can't stand anymore of the silence. Or the pain radiating from her wrist as he works. ]
I don't remember it really well. I think at some point the toys are donated to a daycare... that's run by an evil pink stuffed teddy bear. So they have to escape and get back to their owner. Shenanigans and adventure ensue.
[ Hmm. ]
It was kind of silly. But cute.
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(This is fixing a tiny leak when half the hull is gone. This is missing the forest for the trees.)
He ties off the bandage, careful not to tie it too tightly. Life as a thief meant injuries, and solo work meant having to patch himself up. The bandage maybe isn't wrapped as nicely as a professional would do it, but it's secure, at least, and he was careful not to make it too tight or too loose.
He looks up, gaze catching on the bruises on her neck again, and he grimaces. He should've-- he's not sure. Should've pressed more, he guesses. He should've asked what the fuck was going on with her instead of sitting back and waiting. Peter's not used to the idea of being a friend -- hell, he doesn't even know if they are friends. He's just the guy who keeps showing up to slap on a band-aid and send her on her way. ]
Your friends don't know yet, huh?
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Being a fighter meant patching herself up on more than one occasion too but since the sight of her hand did ( and still slightly does ) make her want to lose her lunch just about every time it's probably for the best someone else handled it. ]
Newt does. [ But she'd told him not to tell; she said she'd figure it out and kind of... ran off in a panic. ] Sakamoto. Wally. And you. But that's it.
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[ As he's asking, he moves to sit beside her on the bed -- not too close, since he knows she has personal bubble issues, but not so far that she'd feel like a leper or something.
He's-- pretty fucking concerned, still, and his gaze keeps flicking to her neck. It-- fuck, that looks painful, and he wishes he knew even a teensy bit of what was going through her head that made her go to Yao.
But he waits. He's patient. ]
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Not a clue. [ Wade is who she's most scared of coming clean to, admittedly. But after what she'd done to him, she... she was terrified. Desperate. It couldn't happen again because what if it wasn't him next time.
Normal people don't pop back up like daisies after getting their hearts eaten. ]
I'll probably wait until I heal a bit more. So they aren't as freaked out. [ ... ] Sorry about that, actually. I probably should've waited to tell you too.
[ Newt got the worst of it actually. He saw her right after she woke up and had to deal with her being a traumatized trainwreck of emotions. ]
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Nah. Better you told me now. I, um. [ He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. His gaze flicks to her bruises (obvious signs of strangulation, and he feels that heat flaring in his gut again), and his jaw clenches briefly. ]
I wish you had said somethin' earlier, is all. [ His voice is quiet again, tense. ] About whatever problem you were dealing with. I mean, I know you probably don't trust me much-- [ considering the on-again, off-again silent treatment she's been giving him ] --and that I'm not exactly the poster child for, like, bein' particularly open, either, but-- I dunno. Just saying I would've wanted to help.
[ And-- that little bit is a lot more honest than Peter's been in a long, long while, and he directs his attention to the floorboards. ]
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There's a moment of silence that follows his words as she contemplates them. Letting people in has always been bad news. Not for her but for them. Haven was different but... old habits die hard, as the saying goes. But when she sees her friends, people she cares about, worry for her ( even though she can't comprehend why, her chest feels tight and her heart weighs heavy with guilt.
That's the exact opposite of what she wants.
What Peter might think of her if he knew what she was, the things she'd done also scares her more than she'll likely ever admit. Because she likes him and she likes what they have going and although it might be selfish of her she doesn't want to lose it.
There was no way he could help but she can't tell him that without explaining everything and, well. The bottom line is she's just not sure she's ready to. It had taken her nearly a year to tell Sakamoto that she wasn't human, then even longer about her struggle after Kite willingly and he was probably one of her - maybe only - best friends in this place.
She scoots closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his. ]
Hey. I'm sorry for not letting you know. It's... a little late now, really, to try and get into it all since it's been going on for a while but. Trust me when I say there wasn't much you could do to stop things from happening the way they did. No one could. I'm kind of ridiculously stubborn like that. Once I get my mind made up on something, it's gonna' happen. [ Here is a weak attempt at a smile that fades as fast as it appears. ]
I can promise you this though. I'll be more honest from now on, alright? Nothing should ever get this bad again. I mean, I can never say never in this place but... I'll let you know. You don't have to worry about me getting all creepy and sharing every detail of my life, but. I won't shut you out anymore.
[ At least, she'll try her damn hardest not to. It's instinct to deflect, to avoid, and use half-truths to cover up what's really going on but if he asks... she won't, at least, outright lie anymore. That's the least she can do for putting him through all this. ]
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