[ Punched out of him as she starts to fade away, and he’s distantly aware of the noise of activity down the corridors, of voices coming closer. But who the shit cares, because Gamora is fading on him fast, and he knows she’s just— falling asleep. Just— losing consciousness.
But it feels too familiar, lands too close to home—
(alarms wailing and family and friends bursting into sobs around him—
ice crystallizing over blue skin and red eyes as the life in them fades away— screaming and screaming and screaming at the top of his lungs. no, please, god. no—)
—and he grips her hand, the other curling against her cheek. ]
Gamora, no. C’mon. Gamora, don’t— don’t do this to me—
[ The doors open, and people in red suits that cover them from head to toe file into the infirmary. Someone calls his name but he doesn’t notice them with the way his head swims, with the way his vision dims at the edges, with the way heat floods his nerves, burning him from the inside out. Someone’s shouting, and they should really stop, they should really be quiet, because Gamora is asleep, but—
It’s him. It’s him. Telling Gamora to wake up, please, wake up, and his breathing goes ragged, each inhale harder earned than the last, and someone’s pulling him away and why would they do that? Why would they— he needs to be here, with Gamora, because she’s going to wake up any second now, any fucking second, and—
He swipes at someone. He doesn’t realize he does it, but someone’s hand wraps around his bicep and he lashes out, red rage flooding his vision, and there are alarmed shouts and commands and suddenly there are strong grips around his wrists, keeping him pinned, and he struggles and snarls and then the tiniest pinprick in the side of his neck and—
The world grows hazy after that. Someone speaking quiet reassurances in his ear, someone telling him it’ll be fine, they’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, she’ll be fine, just sleep, just rest, they’ll fix this—
no subject
Gamora—
[ Punched out of him as she starts to fade away, and he’s distantly aware of the noise of activity down the corridors, of voices coming closer. But who the shit cares, because Gamora is fading on him fast, and he knows she’s just— falling asleep. Just— losing consciousness.
But it feels too familiar, lands too close to home—
(alarms wailing and family and friends bursting into sobs around him—
ice crystallizing over blue skin and red eyes as the life in them fades away—
screaming and screaming and screaming at the top of his lungs. no, please, god. no—)
—and he grips her hand, the other curling against her cheek. ]
Gamora, no. C’mon. Gamora, don’t— don’t do this to me—
[ The doors open, and people in red suits that cover them from head to toe file into the infirmary. Someone calls his name but he doesn’t notice them with the way his head swims, with the way his vision dims at the edges, with the way heat floods his nerves, burning him from the inside out. Someone’s shouting, and they should really stop, they should really be quiet, because Gamora is asleep, but—
It’s him. It’s him. Telling Gamora to wake up, please, wake up, and his breathing goes ragged, each inhale harder earned than the last, and someone’s pulling him away and why would they do that? Why would they— he needs to be here, with Gamora, because she’s going to wake up any second now, any fucking second, and—
He swipes at someone. He doesn’t realize he does it, but someone’s hand wraps around his bicep and he lashes out, red rage flooding his vision, and there are alarmed shouts and commands and suddenly there are strong grips around his wrists, keeping him pinned, and he struggles and snarls and then the tiniest pinprick in the side of his neck and—
The world grows hazy after that. Someone speaking quiet reassurances in his ear, someone telling him it’ll be fine, they’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, she’ll be fine, just sleep, just rest, they’ll fix this—
And then he’s out. ]