041 | SPAM

[myresponsibility]

[Open Spam]

[Peter's actually been back for about a day.

He remembers where he is. He does. The infirmary's on the second floor, the library's on the fifth, his neighbor's a redheaded woman named Jean who can hear people's thoughts and move things with her mind. So he knows. Everything just feels like... fog. Walking through fog.

Which is how it's felt for months now, honestly. He's not sure what took the Admiral so long - he hadn't really remembered the Barge when he'd been home, but he'd talked to him right after Captain Stacy died, and he'd been alone and desperate and numb when he'd held Gwen's body - but he'd asked, and Peter had said yes, yeah obviously, please, and so he's here.

Except he wants to be here just as much as he wants to be anywhere, which is to say he doesn't want to be here at all.

Everyone's in port when he gets back, and he's grateful for the space the not-quite Endor provides. He just walks, walks, walks, because he hasn't been Spider-Man since that day, and he doesn't think he wants to be anymore. One of the natives sneaks up on him, and apparently, even off brand Ewoks can sense when someone's walking around with a hole in their chest. The hug he receives is bizarrely one of the most comforting things he's experienced since the funeral.

A hug isn't going to fix everything, though, so Peter's back to feeling sullen and empty and numb when port's over. He goes through the motions: stopping by the maintenance office, staring at the pen formation in the ceiling he'd made a lifetime ago last time he was here, eating mechanically in the dining hall, staring over the rail on deck watching the stars with a thousand yard stare that shows he's not really all here. He looks older - not much, but older - and tired and worn, and his reactions are dulled, but it could be worse. At least he remembers.

So Peter's back, but he's not really the same, and it shows. Something's broken. He's not sure it's ever going to be fixed, even if he gets his deal.

It gets worse when he realizes Gwen's room isn't here anymore.]

[ooc: multiples, fuzzy time, old and new cr all welcome. c:]

Comments

[sickjoke]

[ Jack sees him, before he wanders off to Endor, from boat to port. Jack has no intention of following him down. He's grateful in a bittersweet sort of way, all of a sudden. That's two out of three... Abigail. Peter. ...Maybe, can he allow himself to hope, that Gary might come back? ]

[ But how did that song go? Two out of three ain't bad. Three out of thee... might be too much to hope for. ]

Peter?

[ He stands, faceless, in the doorway to the warden area. ]

That is you, isn't it, Peter?

[myresponsibility]

[It takes a second to get a reaction from him, he's that lost in his own head. It's worse right now, honestly, because he still feels a little off balance just being here, readjusting, trying to piece together how much time has passed.

Man, how much time has passed? He has no idea.]

Hey. [It's him, even though he can't quite smile. The expression he manages looks about as hollow as he feels.] How- [He stumbles, remembering how things were, last time he was here, and wonders if it's been more than a year for him, too.] How's things, man?

[sickjoke]

[ It's been two weeks, and the Red Hood is still aching on the inside. As hollow as Peter's smile. ]

They're... things.

You.

You don't look so hot. Are you feeling okay? Remembering everything?

[myresponsibility]

I'm fine. [Which is a lie a toddler could see right through. Peter's not fine. He's pretty sure he's never going to feel fine ever again.] I think so?

[He remembers James, and Scott and Tim, Chris, Alex and Snow. Mirrorverse, Silent Hill, his daemon.

He swallows, trying to find something else to say.]

It's been a really long time. For me.

[sickjoke]

Probably for the best. Two weeks ago I thought--

I thought I killed you.

[ He's glad to see he didn't. ]

you wanted pain and sadness right???

[videocamera]

[Andrew's been working the maintenance shift for a while now. Not all that well but he's learning stuff, pushing himself out of his shell a little, testing the waters of the whole group thing, like Needy had said maybe he should try to do. With Peter and Chase disappearing, with being paired up with Lydia and all the paranoid insecurity that brought up in him, the distraction has been kind of nice.

He opens the door to the office a little early, camera rolling - he's trying to build up a record of the Barge, his days - and stops short. People come back sometimes, sure, he knows that, but he totally didn't expect to just walk in and see Peter standing there.]

Whoa, dude, Peter?

ALWAYS

[myresponsibility]

[Peter startles at the door opening, and startles worse at the voice, whipping around to stare at Andrew, and for a second, all he can see is Harry, Harry from before things got shitty, Harry laughing like a psychopath, Harry-]

H- [He stops, takes in the video camera and the clothes, and feels like he's going to be sick. He swallows thickly, choking back whatever else he was going to say, and tries to recover.

Tries.] Hey.

GOOD

[videocamera]

[Yeah, the greeting is okay, but there's still this look in Peter's eyes, like he's looking at a ghost, or maybe like he's seeing something horrifying. Andrew's half-smile falters and dies on his lips, turning hollow. All his old insecurities scream at him, just as strong and loud and present as ever. He stops looking at Peter in real life and drops his head to watch Peter through the filter (behind the shield) of the tiny screen of his camera, raising the camera up a little higher, putting it more obviously between them. You can bet he's going to be scouring this video obsessively later.]

Um. You, uh, you came back.

SORRY GUYS

[myresponsibility]

[Peter's gaze nervously tracks away from Andrew and settles back on the cluster of pens stuck into the ceiling tile, rubbing a hand over his mouth and trying, trying to just stay rooted where he is, to not let on how bad this feels, because it's not fair at all. At all, but.]

Yeah. Yeah, I- It's- [His eyes flick back to Andrew again, and there's the same sort of haunted expression on his face before he turns away again, barely resisting the urge to run his hands through his hair and tug at it a bit, like that's going to make him feel any better.]

It's been a really long time. For me.

[mercurialize]

[Kylar's wandering around, calmly. He's strolling in an odd, comfortable way that once realized just how comfortable he is he'll likely be scolding himself and reinstating paranoia for the next week. But for now, it's nice.

He spots Peter on the deck, staring into nothing. He moves on, walks about the deck in a fine large circle. When he finds Peter still staring at nothing, he decides to stand close by on the edge, squinting into the distance beside him.]

Looking for something?

[myresponsibility]

[Peter looks at Kylar with enough surprise to make it clear that he really hadn't noticed he was there until he said anything, and while he's definitely not scared, he's startled. And then a little confused, looking back out at the stars and then turning to Kylar again, like it might take him a minute to process the question, and it sort of does.]

No. [He's not, he just... couldn't be in his room right now.] No, I was just. Looking.

[mercurialize]

[Looking or thinking? He wonders in his head but doesn't bother to say out loud. He can guess that answer.]

See anything interesting?

[myresponsibility]

[Peter shrugs, and tries to find something to say that isn't just... nothing.]

Just the same old stuff.

[lastrat]

[In one way or another, a lot of time has passed since Bond felt that way. He remembers, in the very depths of his thoughts, what it was like to watch Vesper die. To come so close to flouting her intentions. The desperate fear of watching someone you love remove herself from your life--

James doesn't think on it a lot, if ever. There is no reason for it. Despite the talk he had with Elena, despite knowing how it sent him on a dangerous mission of personal gratification and revenge - what's done is done. Bond has always lived his life that way. You can't change the past, you can only move forward.

The Barge throws a wrench he's not entirely sure how to hold into that mindset, though. Vesper is alive, and he's here to see M alive. And he thinks, more often than he used to, that this isn't moving forward. It's standing still.

When he sees Peter, Bond doesn't react emotionally. No one could expect it of him. Still, he can see the change, and he remembers what it was like, when he showed up soaking wet, years older. It's been some time. And something happened.]

Peter.

[He stops on the deck, drawing into arms reach to look up at his once-warden's face. He's not here for his uncle anymore. Bond would bet a small fortune on that.]

[myresponsibility]

[Peter barely reacts when he hears footsteps approaching - honestly, he might not have even really noticed or processed them, or realized he had until James speaks. But then he does, and Peter turns around, and he still feels like he's dead or sleep walking, or having some really, really long out of body experience, but there's something like relief to see James is still here.

(Sort of, but Jack had said it's only been two weeks, so at least Bond hasn't been here for two years.)

James has been a lot of things to Peter in his time here, chief among them a pain in the ass, but he's a friend, too. A good one, and Peter's never had an older brother and doesn't think Bond would appreciate the comparison, but yeah, sometimes he does kind of feel like the older brother he'd never had, or asked for. And Bond probably wouldn't want to spend too much time thinking about it, but they have a fair amount in common. Now, even more so. And Peter is really, really glad he has someone around who knows what this is like, even if he knows he's probably not going to be able to compartmentalize like James did.

(More than one someone, if Scott's still here, he realizes vaguely, and how depressing is that?)

So he still looks wrecked when he turns around, but he tries to signal he's (however much he's capable of this emotion anymore, anyway) glad to see him. Your call on how well that works out.]

Hey. [And then Peter hesitates and swallows, like that's about the only word he remembers how to speak, and sometimes, it does kind of feel like he doesn't remember how to talk.]

I'm really glad you're here.

[lastrat]

[It works about as well as to be expected, and there's no point in betting anymore: the odds are too certain, no one would take the bet, knowing they would lose. For a few seconds, Bond studies his face, picking out the marks of age, and grief, and loss. He's seen them often enough to recognize them now.

While he looks, he nods quietly, accepting the greeting, agreeing, all silently. Then he exhales, and looks out at the stars.]

A year? More?

[He watches from the corner of his eye, half afraid in the back of his mind that he'll stumble on the question that will make Peter crumble, half pursuing it.]

[myresponsibility]

Two and a half? [Thereabouts. He mostly sounds unsure because he's just so incredibly at sea right now about everything, and being here hasn't really helped solidify anything.

James looks the same, and he doesn't push, and he knows he's not going to like it if he just bursts into tears on him, and it does help, a little. It's been a long time for him, and everything's so uncertain and weird and awful, having something consistent is good.

Thank God he wasn't gone for that long on this end, too.

He clears his throat and looks out at the stars too, like the space will make it easier for them to talk.]

A lot of stuff happened.

[fireincarnate]

[Jean is, to say the least, enjoying herself far more in this port than the last one. She was wary, at first - even with all her power, there are things you can't prepare for. But after a day spent in the forest, she's become ridiculously relaxed. The natives are genuinely peaceful; their minds are direct, simple, soothing. There are no hulking tyrannosaurs or bloodthirsty butterflies to watch out for.

So she's smiling, as she walks through the trees. Exploring, experiencing. She wearing clothes that vaguely resemble a potato sack, and her hair is braided with flowers. (She's got bigger ones in a basket; she can replant them on the Barge.

At first, her smile deepens when she sees Peter. She's glad to see him back, and safe.

But it doesn't take a telepath, really, to see he isn't whole.

Her steps slow, and she's not sure if she should approach or not, but - to heck with it. She walks closer, and she smiles again - softer, sadder.]

Welcome back.

[myresponsibility]

[Peter almost doesn't recognize her, and it has nothing to do with amnesia and everything to do with the fact that he hadn't expected Jean to look like she'd gone native.

A lifetime ago, he would have thought it was funny, and fun, and probably asked her a ton of questions about how life with the Ewoks has been treating her, but instead, he barely manages even an attempted smile. The resulting expression is pained and confused more than anything else, like he's trying to remember how to make the motion and his facial muscles aren't quite cooperating.]

Hi.

[... He should say something else. He nervously threads his fingers together and twists his hands uncomfortably instead.]

[fireincarnate]

[Yeah, it's just as bad as she thought. The Peter she knows would laugh and ask for fashion tips.

She's careful not to delve into his mind, tempting as it is, but it's hard not to feel it. There's an aching emptiness there, that she recognises intimately.]

Do you want to talk about it? [Her voice is soft. It's okay if he doesn't. They may like each other a lot, but they're not best friends, not family.

But sometimes that helps.]

[myresponsibility]

[Something in Peter's expression twists, and doesn't quite fracture, because it really already is.]

I'm not really good at- [He has to stop and clear his throat, shoving his hands deeper into his jacket pockets as he does so.] That.

[And he never has been, but right now, this is worse than it ever has been.]

It's been a really long time.

[semifreakingnormal]

[Internal, emotional agony has a smell. It's thick, and it's heavy, and it's so bitter it might make you sneeze. It trails behind you and wafts ahead of you. It paints a picture that Scott can see with his nose almost as clearly as he could see it with his eyes. He knows that smell. It clung to everyone, the night at Oak Creek.

He's slow to follow it at first, not sure who it will lead him to - but while he's paying attention to his nose, other scents filter in. When he realizes who he's following, Scott has to stop and lean against the wall. He can't think straight - is it his aunt? Was it - oh, God.

Scott hates that he knows because he read a couple comic books as a kid. He hates that Peter's life is following those general story lines, because this isn't a story, this is his life, this is - this is Gwen's life--

He has to swallow hard when he continues, pushing it all back. Trying to. He can feel Allison in his arms again, blood on her mouth, none in her cheeks--

He finds Peter in the maintenance office, steps inside and closes the door behind him. For a moment, he doesn't think he can talk. His throat is too tight.]

Hey. [It sounds strangled, and he swallows again.] Do you, uh - do you remember me?

[myresponsibility]

[It's strange to be back here. His memories have sort of slotted right back in place, like a missing puzzle piece he hadn't really noticed was gone until he got back here, but it's still strange to be standing somewhere he'd last been two years ago, or two weeks.

But at least it's a slight distraction.

Peter startles a little when the door opens, but he doesn't bolt, and he doesn't stare at Scott like he's a stranger. It just takes a second for his throat to unstick too, and he doesn't quite manage it.

So his voice sounds just as strangled, just as choked, but it could be worse. He could have just burst into tears, because he knows Scott's going to be able to tell what happened. Peter's got a harder time hiding this kind of thing, and Scott's gone through all of this already, and how not fair is that? Allison and Gwen don't deserve this.]

Yeah. [He nods quickly, shakily, swallows like he's afraid something dangerous or embarrassing is going to burst out of him if he's not careful, and maybe it is. Of course he remembers. Scott's one of the best friends he's ever had, and he's kind of desperately in need of one of those right now.] Yeah. Hey.

[He might not look it, but he is really, really glad to see you, Scott.]

[semifreakingnormal]

[Some relief washes over him when Peter confirms: they don't have to rebuild this, he doesn't have to try to comfort someone who thinks he's a stranger.

It makes it easier to step right up to Peter, to wrap his arms around the taller boy, to hug him tight. He doesn't ask, maybe he should have asked, but how can he need anything else right now? Scott needed the comfort, and barely had a chance to take it. He doubts it's any different for Peter.

God knows Gwen Stacy wouldn't have died in an accident. Not - not a normal accident. Scott closes his eyes and swallows hard, steadying his voice.]

What can I do?

[myresponsibility]

[Peter doesn't flinch or move to pull away, or even stand there stiffly while Scott puts his arms around him and holds on tight. Instead, he more or less just melts into the hug, bringing his arms up to hang on to the other teenager and settles his chin on his friend's shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to fight past the growing sensation of tightness in his throat, because he knows he's teetering on the edge of out and out sobbing, and the idea of going through it again just... exhausts him.

And then he feels like a selfish asshole for thinking like that, and it just makes everything ten times worse.]

I don't know, [He chokes out, and his next breath is shuddery and wet. Staying calm is a losing battle and has been for weeks. This shouldn't be surprising anymore.]

I really messed up.