[ There's an instinctive tensing at the hands on her shoulders; it's nothing he's done wrong but she did just come out of a pretty intense brawl. He knows what to say to make her laugh though, to make her relax however slightly that may be. ]
Considering the people I usually do business with, you are kind of a sight for sore eyes I gotta' admit.
[ The word 'hospital' sparks a sudden visceral anxiety in the blond. Hospitals meant people poking and prodding; hospitals meant knives and needles to her skin and drugs pumped through her veins so she 'wouldn't feel a thing.' ]
Woah, wait, no - No hospitals. Please? Not a huge fan. I promise I won't nap [ though she's not actually certain how in control of keeping that promise she is as the edges of her vision darken ], just no go on the hospital.
[ He doesn't know what's going through her head, but he at least understands a reluctance for hospitals. He spent more than enough time there as a kid, remembers the smell of disinfectant and medicine in the air, the shades of pale green on the walls and the humming of fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling, the quiet noise of machinery. The memory is inextricable from loss and death, from quiet sobs and screams when the constant beeps turned into a blaring squeal, from familiar faces turned pale and wane, fingers moving weakly across too-thin sheets like spiders.
--He gets it.
But even still, Peter shakes his head. ]
I'm sorry, but we need to get you somewhere with people who actually know what the fuck they're doing. [ Peter knows there are backalley quacks who will do these sorts of operations for a guy on the cheap -- he has the scars to prove it. But with how extensive Rose's injuries are, how difficult it is to find doctors with knowledge on Terran anatomy and biology, Peter's mind is already made up. ]
I'll be there the whole time, okay? You gotta trust me.
[ Distress is written plainly on her features as she turns everything over in her foggy mind. Her initial kneejerk thought is run but, even if she truly wanted to, she couldn't. In more than one sense. Physically, it would be literally impossible to try and escape. Mentally and emotionally, she can't actually bring herself to want to leave. Even if it would be better, even if it meant that they'd be safer-
You gotta trust me.
The implications of 'trust' don't paint pretty pictures in Rose's mind. Trust me, a dulcet voice hums in her head before a squick of blood followed by a thump. Just trust me! comes a sing-song saying before the silence of a sniper rifle snuffs out two lives before her eyes. Trust is merely a tool to be used against her; trust is only something that ends up hurting far more than its worth in all the worst ways. ]
Promise you won't leave?
[ And yet despite herself, she wants to. Maybe it's naive, maye it's too idealistic. She wants to believe in him because the woman wouldn't be here in this moment if she hadn't allowed herself to all the times before. For all the scars on her heart, for all the grief that it's caused, Rose wouldn't be where she is without trust. She would have never said 'yes' to his help the first time and might instead be suffering from a likely similar fate only to die cold and alone. So for as terrifying and trying as trust is, the latter is far more grim and not the path she wants to take even if it might be the path she deserves. ]
Promise m-
[ Her eyes roll back - taking the rest of her with them - as she chokes on the words still on her tongue. Muscles go from taut to slack in seconds as she stars to lose her battle with consciousness. So much for 'no sleeping.' ]
[ For a second, with the way her face twists, he thinks she's going to fight him the whole way on this, and while she's in no position to argue, seeing as how she's on the verge of unconsciousness, he still wants to give her the choice, still wants to let her have agency in the decision. It was Gamora's advice -- and the assassin hadn't been a slave in so many words, but she had been as good as one, she had told him.
So when she finally relents, he doesn't bother to hide his relief. He nods, lips parting to answer, but--
--she suddenly goes, like a marionette with its strings cut. He catches her before she hits the ground and calls her name, desperate and panicked, bracing her against him carefully. Peter has strength enough to pick her up, but-- with the way she's bruised and beaten, with the way her skin is marred with deep bruises and the way her chest rattles with each breath, he's afraid of causing more damage. So he holds her, murmuring quiet reassurances that fall on deaf ears.
It comes as a relief when Groot and Rocket reappear in the alleyway, and the former keens in distress at the sight of Rose slumped against Peter. The Flora colossus extends his arms, ropey vines twisting and twining around her, carefully supporting her neck and shoulders; he lifts her up into a sort of cradle, and Rocket nods sharply before turning and heading down the alley to a waiting ambulance. It's lucky the Nova Corps has a presence on this planet, luckier still that the Guardians were known here, so when he climbs into the vehicle after Rose, the personnel know better than to ask questions.
After that, everything's a blur -- but Peter's as good as his word, sticking with Rose every step of the way, an unwelcome presence in the corner of every room. (The first time a nurse told him to leave, he snapped back at him that he had made a promise, that he still had his blasters holstered at his hips, and that he had no qualms in showing-off just how excellent his aim was. The fact that it was Drax who had to apologize to the shaken man spoke volumes.) At some point, the doctors announced that Rose was stable, and she was admitted into a room, (private, courtesy again of Nova Corps' clout), and by then, the first few rays of morning are lightening the sky.
The team quietly urges Peter to get some rest, but he refuses every time. ("I asked her to trust me. What kind of asshole would I be if I ditched her now?") Instead, he pulls up a chair next to the foot of Rose's bed, folds his arm on the edge of the mattress, and rests his chin there. It's like visiting Mom all over again, the sharp tang of disinfectant hanging in the air; machinery humming quietly; listening to the quiet murmur of nurses and doctors and patients in the halls. Peter has never slept well in hospitals, though that wouldn't stop him from spending the weekends with Mom when he was younger.
So even now, some twenty years later, Peter still stays the night, catching a few moments of sleep here and there and jumping awake when an unfamiliar noise catches him off-guard. The rest of the time, he alternates between staring at the wall (pale green here, too) or listening to his mix tapes. Whenever Rose wakes, he'll be half-asleep at the foot of her bed, headphones skewed on his head while "O-o-h Child" plays softly. ]
[ Lucidity comes in seemingly random spurts. Later she'll recollect splintered bouts of consciousness: the weightlessness of being carried, reassuring words that she can't place beyond the intention, the rumble and clatter of the inside of an ambulance rushing to its destination, quick yet level voices spilling out medical jargon she doesn't even begin to try and pretend to understand. These hazy and disjointed memories are all she'll have to piece together what exactly happened later; they're the only things not lost when she finally does succumb to a completely unconscious state.
Blackness envelops her in the form of spindly arachnid legs and she becomes caught in a mental web of her own design. Sticky spider silk makes way for silken sheets just as confining yet uncomfortable in much different ways. Constraints keep her wrists and feet bound to the bed as if she's the threat instead of those keeping her captive. Familiar beeps and buzzing of medical equipment perforate her thoughts. Quiet fire roars along her back in branching paths. Smoke sears her nostrils above the already harsh smell of disinfectant. 'Sir?' a distant voice questions followed by a pause of palpable contempt. 'Teach her a lesson,' comes the resolute reply before the start her own screams as quiet fire becomes a blaze burning her to the core. 'She needs to learn.'
Torrential waves wash the scene away yet do anything but bring relief; Rose starts to sink like a rock to the bottom of an inky black sea. Just as her lungs begin to burn because water is filling them to burst instead of air a hand clasps her own and yanks her forward. She breaks the surface with a sputtering gasp and catches only a glimpse of Ren's distraught face before bobbing back under. His grip is too slick to keep latched on for long. A second hand splashes beneath the waves and she's pulled out of the blackness to see Peter Quill this time instead.
You gotta trust me.
Her struggling ceases and in turn his grip tightens enough to pull her to shore. Stars alight a crystalline sky and shine back on themselves in a perfection reflection upon the glassy sea surface despite her struggle just seconds before. It mimics the sensation of being suspended in space but it's cathartic instead of perturbing. The light sprinkling her vision begins to pulse in time with a fuzzy beep, beep, beep that begins to gain clarity with each succession. Rose casts one final glance at Peter with a silent 'thank you' before it all inexplicably melts away.
Slender fingers twitch and an audible inhale that breaks the rhythmic breathing from before are the first signs that Rose is climbing back to consciousness. Her eyes flutter open and try to adjust to the mix of artificial and natural light. She recognizes the beeping that had invaded her dreams as one of a holter monitor. Holter monitors mean hospitals. That same anxiety that had shot through her before strikes again with just as much intensity; her instincts scream at her that she needs to escape because this isn't safe.
Her head feels like it's full of cotton but in her panic she forces herself to sit up regardless. It's a good thing she does, however, for as soon as she's sitting she spots Peter and those fragmented memories rush to the forefront of her mind and bring into focus the situation at hand. That's right. Pain finally catches up with her brain and she winces harshly where she sits. She definitely remembers why she's here now. ]
Woah. They must've given me the really good stuff because I had the trippiest dreams.
[ He's not sure what wakes him up first -- the change in her breathing, or the moment she sits up, or the second she speaks -- but wake he does. There's a funny crease on his right cheek from the way he rested against his sleeve (his signature red leather jacket is draped over the back of his chair), and it's clear enough that he's tired from the way his eyes are slightly puffy, with skin darkening beneath them.
But even so, he's up and out of his chair and at her side in an instant, carefully pressing her back into a reclining position. His eyebrows knit together in clear concern, and his voice is soft but stern when he speaks. ]
Yeah? I might have you tell me about 'em when you're not liable to split yourself wide open. Take it easy, okay? Doc says the best medicine right now is to rest.
[ How much she doesn't like that idea is clear the second he says it. Rose gives a practically indignant pout as he presses her back towards the bed. ]
I don't want to stay here longer than I have to. [ Huff!!
Beyond her discomfort, she technically can't. Without a tracker, she's thankfully been able to keep under the radar rather easily. Hospitals require information though. Legitimate ones do. anyway. They would have checked her in in and now there's record that she's been here, that she's still here. It feels about the same as being a sitting duck.
She's also - as Nova Corps no doubt knows - a criminal, which is just another thing that doesn't bode well the longer she stays put. ]
I know, but right now you're not in really any condition to rush off. [ He nearly adds, again, but he cuts himself off. Pulling his chair closer to the head of the bed, he plops himself down. ]
If you're worried, I had Gamora talk to Nova Prime. We'll see to it they destroy any records of you bein' here. Can't have that trail floating around, right? Not with Hiromitsu prob'ly lookin' for you.
[ He's right - even Rose can recognize that - but she doesn't have to like that he is. Her injuries may stop her from leaving but they don't stop how horribly uncomfortable this entire place makes her. There's a phantom ache in her back as she recalls fragmented bits of her (likely) drug-induced dream sequence. ]
Nova Prime herself issuing the order to erase my records? [ Well. She can't argue with that, can she? ] That's some pretty impressive influence, Star-Lord.
[ There's an awkward pause on her end before a quiet- ]
Thanks.
[ Guilt starts to settle in gradually. Rose realizes that she'd not only ran off without a word originally but then he'd had to find her half-dead in alleyway. Probably not the best way to show her gratitude to the person who essentially gave her her freedom. ]
[ He shrugs a shoulder. ] They kinda owe me, what with the saving their lazy asses a while back. [ A handful of purged criminal records is only a drop in the bucket, after all. Reluctant as they may be to do so, the Nova Corps friggin' owes them.
At her gratitude, Peter hesitates, eyes flicking down to his lap, then, with another delicate shrug, ]
[ There's a lot of weight behind those words for Rose; she's never been considered part of a crew. In the ring, it was kill or be killed. Only Ren had ever looked out for her and once he was dead -
Well. She'd had to start looking out for her. And that was just really the way things went for a long, long time. There was no one but herself and she'd resigned herself to the fact that would never change. Being a lone wolf - literally and metaphorically - was just how it was supposed to be. How it would always be. That was what she'd believed.
Until she met Peter, anyway. He'd reminded her what it means to rely on people, to allow them to help. He'd reminded her that sometimes she can't take the world upon her shoulders try as she might to. When he didn't have to, when he shouldn't have he'd saved her from Hiromitsu. Let himself consider her to be part of his crew despite the brief time she'd been around.
Yet she'd only managed to fuck that up. As she always does. As she always will.
When it really comes down to it, Rose isn't sure she knows how to be part of a crew. She isn't sure she knows how to truly let people in anymore. It's why she ran, why she runs. For as much as she wants to try and believe maybe she could be part of his crew - It's just easier to be alone than to try and figure out how she fits with others. So that's why what she says next rings with a certain sincerity. ]
I'm not... really crew member material. I'm - You don't want someone like me in your crew, trust me.
[ Peter just-- sighs. Her reaction, surprisingly, isn't unlike how the others had felt at some point -- even him. All of them had fucked up a job more than once, made a dumb move that nearly jeopardized everything, and when Peter went to talk to them -- or when Gamora had gone to speak with him, in his own case -- they had all told him the same thing.
"I'm sorry, Quill. I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can work with a team."
Every time, he would reach over -- as he does now, pressing a hand gently over Rose's forearm -- and say, as he says now, ]
Stop. Shut up.
[ Peter looks her straight in the eye as he speaks, voice and gaze steady. ]
I don't care what fucked up past you had. I don't care what ghosts are chasin' after you. I don't care that you think you're too dangerous or too untrustworthy, or that you've been flyin' solo too long to know what it's like to have people you can depend on.
If we didn't want you with us, you wouldn't be. Gamora is the most deadly assassin in the galaxy. Drax can pull out a guy's thorax through his mouth. Groot could spear a dude with his arm, and Rocket could figure out six different ways to turn a calculator into a bomb.
So what I care about is this: you're part of my crew, whether you wanna be or not. And that means you'll get our help even if you push us away. I mean, imagine if our roles were switched. Imagine you found me in that alley, or Gamora, or Drax, or anyone. Would you or would you not have helped us, like we helped you?
[ The 'shut up' definitely gets her attention; she doesn't break his gaze as he speaks.
It's something to consider, isn't it? When looking at what everyone else's stories were, hers didn't seem all that out of place. It actually almost appeared to fit right in. ... Though Rose isn't necessarily sure if that's actually a good thing. Hm.
Then she thinks over the next point he makes. The answer comes easier than expected: Of course she would have. She would because, well. Rose cares about them. It just hadn't occurred to her - and is still a difficult concept to wrap her head around - that they'd potentially felt the same way. Why would they? Why would anyone?
While difficult to believe, she wants to because the implications of that - people similar to her, people who understand, people who get it - makes her heart swell in wonderful ways she doesn't quite understand just yet. ]
I would. But that doesn't mean... I just. [ Mm. She would, and yet- ] I'm still not - entirely sure how to be part of a crew, but... Looks like I don't really have much of a choice in figuring it out.
[ ... ]
Besides, I really want to see some of this cool bomb calculator, spearing, assassinating, and thorax-ripping action now so I guess I'll just have to stick around.
[ Her answer makes him laugh a little -- mostly out of relief, but also because, yeah, his team is crazy and fucked up in some really wonderful, yet horrifying, ways. His team, which includes Rose. ]
It takes time to adapt, I can tell you that much. All of us were doin' the lone wolf thing for a while, took us a while to figure out the teamwork thing.
My advice? Stick with it. You'll never learn if you don't try, you know?
All I really can do is try. Sorry if I suck at it though. I think I'm done with 'entertaining' [ Can he sense the air quotes she doesn't actually have the energy to make? She wasn't lying when she said her 'job' for Hiromitsu had been entertainment; it just wasn't the type most people immediately thought of. ] for a while, at least.
And if I'm gonna' try to stick around this time, I wanna' be useful. I was kind of working in information gathering before, uh. This happened. So once I'm back up to snuff I can get to doing that again if it'll help you all out.
[ He nods. ] No, yeah, the information gathering would definitely help. But we'll figure it out once you're healed up, okay? Don't worry 'bout it till then.
[ He falls silent for a second, pulling his hand back to cross his arms on the edge of her bed. His eyes flick to one side of the room -- an empty wall, save for a large board the nurses were probably meant to use to mark their visits. Licking his lips, he mumbles quietly, ]
[ Knowing herself, it won't be. Staying idle isn't one of her fortes; no matter how badly beaten down in the ring she might have been, she'd always bounce back as soon as possible. This'll likely be no different.
When was the last time someone was glad she was alright? Ren, she recalls, was probably the only one that ever genuinely seemed to care about her well-being. Even more than she did, sometimes. So this feeling of being cared about, being worried over is almost absolutely alien.
That doesn't mean she doesn't like it though. It's definitely strange, but nice all in the same breath. It brings a small yet earnest smile to her face. ]
[ He manages a small smile at that -- and tries very hard not to have those dark thoughts like, What if I hadn't? or What if I had been too late? And he tries not to think about how the site of Rose in this hospital bed reminds him so vividly of Mom, surrounded by machinery and dim lights and unfamiliar sheets.
Peter's eyes flick down to the bedspread (a plain, solid thing that grounds him a little) before returning to her. If he had seemed pensive just a moment before, all evidence of it is wiped from his expression. ]
[ Even though her train of thought is along the same lines as his, she does her best not to show outwardly how the dark corners of her mind supply the horrors of 'what if.' It won't do her any good to speculate. ]
The only thing I need is to get out of here as soon as possible. [ Sorry, Peter, she's just a tad bit stubborn. ] ... Though I guess I'm a little hungry, too. [ She refrains fro, almost letting a truthful 'joke' slip out out that she hasn't been able to afford to eat regularly. Even if she had, however, she doubts she would have kept up a steady meal schedule. She'd never been particularly good at caring for herself for a myriad of reasons.
But this isn't the time to get into that. Hopefully they never have to. ]
[ He reaches over, giving her arm a gentle squeeze -- as much to express, I know, we'll leave when we can, as it is to provide some comfort. ]
I'll go scrounge somethin' up. Probably won't be much better than toast and fruit, though, if that's alright.
[ He stands, stretching, and there's a couple of soft pops of his joints. Clearly he's been sitting here for a while, and he shoots her a sheepish grin before he heads out. ]
Hang tight, okay? I'll be back before you can even miss me.
[ The touch gets a small smile in return. She trusts him (truly does) to get her out of here as soon as possible. Hopefully she can keep herself together until then.
Disassociating hospital environments with horrible torture is a little easier said than done, unfortunately. ]
[ A quick thumbs up is the only answer he gives before exiting the room entirely. And true to his word, he's back after maybe ten minutes or so holding a tray laden with toasted bread, various fruits, and a couple glasses of juice. ]
I couldn't remember which of these you liked. [ He nods down at the different types of fruits on the tray. ] So I figured the best bet would be to grab whichever.
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Considering the people I usually do business with, you are kind of a sight for sore eyes I gotta' admit.
[ The word 'hospital' sparks a sudden visceral anxiety in the blond. Hospitals meant people poking and prodding; hospitals meant knives and needles to her skin and drugs pumped through her veins so she 'wouldn't feel a thing.' ]
Woah, wait, no - No hospitals. Please? Not a huge fan. I promise I won't nap [ though she's not actually certain how in control of keeping that promise she is as the edges of her vision darken ], just no go on the hospital.
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--He gets it.
But even still, Peter shakes his head. ]
I'm sorry, but we need to get you somewhere with people who actually know what the fuck they're doing. [ Peter knows there are backalley quacks who will do these sorts of operations for a guy on the cheap -- he has the scars to prove it. But with how extensive Rose's injuries are, how difficult it is to find doctors with knowledge on Terran anatomy and biology, Peter's mind is already made up. ]
I'll be there the whole time, okay? You gotta trust me.
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You gotta trust me.
The implications of 'trust' don't paint pretty pictures in Rose's mind. Trust me, a dulcet voice hums in her head before a squick of blood followed by a thump. Just trust me! comes a sing-song saying before the silence of a sniper rifle snuffs out two lives before her eyes. Trust is merely a tool to be used against her; trust is only something that ends up hurting far more than its worth in all the worst ways. ]
Promise you won't leave?
[ And yet despite herself, she wants to. Maybe it's naive, maye it's too idealistic. She wants to believe in him because the woman wouldn't be here in this moment if she hadn't allowed herself to all the times before. For all the scars on her heart, for all the grief that it's caused, Rose wouldn't be where she is without trust. She would have never said 'yes' to his help the first time and might instead be suffering from a likely similar fate only to die cold and alone. So for as terrifying and trying as trust is, the latter is far more grim and not the path she wants to take even if it might be the path she deserves. ]
Promise m-
[ Her eyes roll back - taking the rest of her with them - as she chokes on the words still on her tongue. Muscles go from taut to slack in seconds as she stars to lose her battle with consciousness. So much for 'no sleeping.' ]
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So when she finally relents, he doesn't bother to hide his relief. He nods, lips parting to answer, but--
--she suddenly goes, like a marionette with its strings cut. He catches her before she hits the ground and calls her name, desperate and panicked, bracing her against him carefully. Peter has strength enough to pick her up, but-- with the way she's bruised and beaten, with the way her skin is marred with deep bruises and the way her chest rattles with each breath, he's afraid of causing more damage. So he holds her, murmuring quiet reassurances that fall on deaf ears.
It comes as a relief when Groot and Rocket reappear in the alleyway, and the former keens in distress at the sight of Rose slumped against Peter. The Flora colossus extends his arms, ropey vines twisting and twining around her, carefully supporting her neck and shoulders; he lifts her up into a sort of cradle, and Rocket nods sharply before turning and heading down the alley to a waiting ambulance. It's lucky the Nova Corps has a presence on this planet, luckier still that the Guardians were known here, so when he climbs into the vehicle after Rose, the personnel know better than to ask questions.
After that, everything's a blur -- but Peter's as good as his word, sticking with Rose every step of the way, an unwelcome presence in the corner of every room. (The first time a nurse told him to leave, he snapped back at him that he had made a promise, that he still had his blasters holstered at his hips, and that he had no qualms in showing-off just how excellent his aim was. The fact that it was Drax who had to apologize to the shaken man spoke volumes.) At some point, the doctors announced that Rose was stable, and she was admitted into a room, (private, courtesy again of Nova Corps' clout), and by then, the first few rays of morning are lightening the sky.
The team quietly urges Peter to get some rest, but he refuses every time. ("I asked her to trust me. What kind of asshole would I be if I ditched her now?") Instead, he pulls up a chair next to the foot of Rose's bed, folds his arm on the edge of the mattress, and rests his chin there. It's like visiting Mom all over again, the sharp tang of disinfectant hanging in the air; machinery humming quietly; listening to the quiet murmur of nurses and doctors and patients in the halls. Peter has never slept well in hospitals, though that wouldn't stop him from spending the weekends with Mom when he was younger.
So even now, some twenty years later, Peter still stays the night, catching a few moments of sleep here and there and jumping awake when an unfamiliar noise catches him off-guard. The rest of the time, he alternates between staring at the wall (pale green here, too) or listening to his mix tapes. Whenever Rose wakes, he'll be half-asleep at the foot of her bed, headphones skewed on his head while "O-o-h Child" plays softly. ]
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Blackness envelops her in the form of spindly arachnid legs and she becomes caught in a mental web of her own design. Sticky spider silk makes way for silken sheets just as confining yet uncomfortable in much different ways. Constraints keep her wrists and feet bound to the bed as if she's the threat instead of those keeping her captive. Familiar beeps and buzzing of medical equipment perforate her thoughts. Quiet fire roars along her back in branching paths. Smoke sears her nostrils above the already harsh smell of disinfectant. 'Sir?' a distant voice questions followed by a pause of palpable contempt. 'Teach her a lesson,' comes the resolute reply before the start her own screams as quiet fire becomes a blaze burning her to the core. 'She needs to learn.'
Torrential waves wash the scene away yet do anything but bring relief; Rose starts to sink like a rock to the bottom of an inky black sea. Just as her lungs begin to burn because water is filling them to burst instead of air a hand clasps her own and yanks her forward. She breaks the surface with a sputtering gasp and catches only a glimpse of Ren's distraught face before bobbing back under. His grip is too slick to keep latched on for long. A second hand splashes beneath the waves and she's pulled out of the blackness to see Peter Quill this time instead.
You gotta trust me.
Her struggling ceases and in turn his grip tightens enough to pull her to shore. Stars alight a crystalline sky and shine back on themselves in a perfection reflection upon the glassy sea surface despite her struggle just seconds before. It mimics the sensation of being suspended in space but it's cathartic instead of perturbing. The light sprinkling her vision begins to pulse in time with a fuzzy beep, beep, beep that begins to gain clarity with each succession. Rose casts one final glance at Peter with a silent 'thank you' before it all inexplicably melts away.
Slender fingers twitch and an audible inhale that breaks the rhythmic breathing from before are the first signs that Rose is climbing back to consciousness. Her eyes flutter open and try to adjust to the mix of artificial and natural light. She recognizes the beeping that had invaded her dreams as one of a holter monitor. Holter monitors mean hospitals. That same anxiety that had shot through her before strikes again with just as much intensity; her instincts scream at her that she needs to escape because this isn't safe.
Her head feels like it's full of cotton but in her panic she forces herself to sit up regardless. It's a good thing she does, however, for as soon as she's sitting she spots Peter and those fragmented memories rush to the forefront of her mind and bring into focus the situation at hand. That's right. Pain finally catches up with her brain and she winces harshly where she sits. She definitely remembers why she's here now. ]
Woah. They must've given me the really good stuff because I had the trippiest dreams.
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But even so, he's up and out of his chair and at her side in an instant, carefully pressing her back into a reclining position. His eyebrows knit together in clear concern, and his voice is soft but stern when he speaks. ]
Yeah? I might have you tell me about 'em when you're not liable to split yourself wide open. Take it easy, okay? Doc says the best medicine right now is to rest.
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I don't want to stay here longer than I have to. [ Huff!!
Beyond her discomfort, she technically can't. Without a tracker, she's thankfully been able to keep under the radar rather easily. Hospitals require information though. Legitimate ones do. anyway. They would have checked her in in and now there's record that she's been here, that she's still here. It feels about the same as being a sitting duck.
She's also - as Nova Corps no doubt knows - a criminal, which is just another thing that doesn't bode well the longer she stays put. ]
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I know, but right now you're not in really any condition to rush off. [ He nearly adds, again, but he cuts himself off. Pulling his chair closer to the head of the bed, he plops himself down. ]
If you're worried, I had Gamora talk to Nova Prime. We'll see to it they destroy any records of you bein' here. Can't have that trail floating around, right? Not with Hiromitsu prob'ly lookin' for you.
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Nova Prime herself issuing the order to erase my records? [ Well. She can't argue with that, can she? ] That's some pretty impressive influence, Star-Lord.
[ There's an awkward pause on her end before a quiet- ]
Thanks.
[ Guilt starts to settle in gradually. Rose realizes that she'd not only ran off without a word originally but then he'd had to find her half-dead in alleyway. Probably not the best way to show her gratitude to the person who essentially gave her her freedom. ]
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At her gratitude, Peter hesitates, eyes flicking down to his lap, then, with another delicate shrug, ]
Don't worry about it. You're part of the crew.
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Well. She'd had to start looking out for her. And that was just really the way things went for a long, long time. There was no one but herself and she'd resigned herself to the fact that would never change. Being a lone wolf - literally and metaphorically - was just how it was supposed to be. How it would always be. That was what she'd believed.
Until she met Peter, anyway. He'd reminded her what it means to rely on people, to allow them to help. He'd reminded her that sometimes she can't take the world upon her shoulders try as she might to. When he didn't have to, when he shouldn't have he'd saved her from Hiromitsu. Let himself consider her to be part of his crew despite the brief time she'd been around.
Yet she'd only managed to fuck that up. As she always does. As she always will.
When it really comes down to it, Rose isn't sure she knows how to be part of a crew. She isn't sure she knows how to truly let people in anymore. It's why she ran, why she runs. For as much as she wants to try and believe maybe she could be part of his crew - It's just easier to be alone than to try and figure out how she fits with others. So that's why what she says next rings with a certain sincerity. ]
I'm not... really crew member material. I'm - You don't want someone like me in your crew, trust me.
[ It'll only keep hurting them both. ]
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"I'm sorry, Quill. I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can work with a team."
Every time, he would reach over -- as he does now, pressing a hand gently over Rose's forearm -- and say, as he says now, ]
Stop. Shut up.
[ Peter looks her straight in the eye as he speaks, voice and gaze steady. ]
I don't care what fucked up past you had. I don't care what ghosts are chasin' after you. I don't care that you think you're too dangerous or too untrustworthy, or that you've been flyin' solo too long to know what it's like to have people you can depend on.
If we didn't want you with us, you wouldn't be. Gamora is the most deadly assassin in the galaxy. Drax can pull out a guy's thorax through his mouth. Groot could spear a dude with his arm, and Rocket could figure out six different ways to turn a calculator into a bomb.
So what I care about is this: you're part of my crew, whether you wanna be or not. And that means you'll get our help even if you push us away. I mean, imagine if our roles were switched. Imagine you found me in that alley, or Gamora, or Drax, or anyone. Would you or would you not have helped us, like we helped you?
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It's something to consider, isn't it? When looking at what everyone else's stories were, hers didn't seem all that out of place. It actually almost appeared to fit right in. ... Though Rose isn't necessarily sure if that's actually a good thing. Hm.
Then she thinks over the next point he makes. The answer comes easier than expected: Of course she would have. She would because, well. Rose cares about them. It just hadn't occurred to her - and is still a difficult concept to wrap her head around - that they'd potentially felt the same way. Why would they? Why would anyone?
While difficult to believe, she wants to because the implications of that - people similar to her, people who understand, people who get it - makes her heart swell in wonderful ways she doesn't quite understand just yet. ]
I would. But that doesn't mean... I just. [ Mm. She would, and yet- ] I'm still not - entirely sure how to be part of a crew, but... Looks like I don't really have much of a choice in figuring it out.
[ ... ]
Besides, I really want to see some of this cool bomb calculator, spearing, assassinating, and thorax-ripping action now so I guess I'll just have to stick around.
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It takes time to adapt, I can tell you that much. All of us were doin' the lone wolf thing for a while, took us a while to figure out the teamwork thing.
My advice? Stick with it. You'll never learn if you don't try, you know?
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[ That's just a bit of an understatement. ]
All I really can do is try. Sorry if I suck at it though. I think I'm done with 'entertaining' [ Can he sense the air quotes she doesn't actually have the energy to make? She wasn't lying when she said her 'job' for Hiromitsu had been entertainment; it just wasn't the type most people immediately thought of. ] for a while, at least.
And if I'm gonna' try to stick around this time, I wanna' be useful. I was kind of working in information gathering before, uh. This happened. So once I'm back up to snuff I can get to doing that again if it'll help you all out.
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[ He falls silent for a second, pulling his hand back to cross his arms on the edge of her bed. His eyes flick to one side of the room -- an empty wall, save for a large board the nurses were probably meant to use to mark their visits. Licking his lips, he mumbles quietly, ]
I'm glad you're alright.
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[ Knowing herself, it won't be. Staying idle isn't one of her fortes; no matter how badly beaten down in the ring she might have been, she'd always bounce back as soon as possible. This'll likely be no different.
When was the last time someone was glad she was alright? Ren, she recalls, was probably the only one that ever genuinely seemed to care about her well-being. Even more than she did, sometimes. So this feeling of being cared about, being worried over is almost absolutely alien.
That doesn't mean she doesn't like it though. It's definitely strange, but nice all in the same breath. It brings a small yet earnest smile to her face. ]
I'm glad you found me.
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Peter's eyes flick down to the bedspread (a plain, solid thing that grounds him a little) before returning to her. If he had seemed pensive just a moment before, all evidence of it is wiped from his expression. ]
You need me to get you anything? Water? Food?
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The only thing I need is to get out of here as soon as possible. [ Sorry, Peter, she's just a tad bit stubborn. ] ... Though I guess I'm a little hungry, too. [ She refrains fro, almost letting a truthful 'joke' slip out out that she hasn't been able to afford to eat regularly. Even if she had, however, she doubts she would have kept up a steady meal schedule. She'd never been particularly good at caring for herself for a myriad of reasons.
But this isn't the time to get into that. Hopefully they never have to. ]
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I'll go scrounge somethin' up. Probably won't be much better than toast and fruit, though, if that's alright.
[ He stands, stretching, and there's a couple of soft pops of his joints. Clearly he's been sitting here for a while, and he shoots her a sheepish grin before he heads out. ]
Hang tight, okay? I'll be back before you can even miss me.
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[ The touch gets a small smile in return. She trusts him (truly does) to get her out of here as soon as possible. Hopefully she can keep herself together until then.
Disassociating hospital environments with horrible torture is a little easier said than done, unfortunately. ]
Okay. I'll hold you to that.
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I couldn't remember which of these you liked. [ He nods down at the different types of fruits on the tray. ] So I figured the best bet would be to grab whichever.