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[toldyouso]

[It's a new guy who some people might recognize from the Cancerverse field trip, except he's now clean-shaven and doesn't look like he's just come from spending years wandering around a hell dimension.]

Very serious question: what's the best bar around here?

[Pete doesn't need a drink. He just wants a drink.]

[private to Rich]

Pick up the phone, man.

Comments

[toldyouso]

Your turn. Don't lie, because you're terrible at it and you'll embarrass yourself.

[iamresponding]

[He lies and is a smartass about it.]

i'm okay.

[toldyouso]

You can't tell, but I'm laughing.

There. Now I'm a liar too.

[iamresponding]

what do you want me to say peter?

"it was terrible but thanks to that stellar 31st century mental healthcare i'm on the mend"?

[toldyouso]

Well, you could yell at me for trapping you and Worldmind in hell.

[He hasn't forgotten it was all his idea.]

[iamresponding]

yeah because you were the only thing that convinced me to do a noble sacrifice when thanos wanted to tear our entire universe apart. before that i'd never made a stubborn choice or been too self-sacrificing in my entire life.

it's not like i would've done the exact same thing if i'd been facing the situation alone.

oh wait.

come on peter. do you realize how many new friends i've picked up here who scream at me to stop being so self-sacrificing? or how many of my old friends do it on the regular?

all of them. they all do it because i've got a compulsive ass-risking problem.

[Grif's words. Not his.]

you weren't the one that got me stuck there any more than you were the one calling down orbital strikes on my power signature during the war.

[Yes, it was one of the only ways that guaranteed they could get a lock on the right area, but it was still insane.]

you're not the reason that i'm ptsd somebody squished into a vaguely human shape. i've never needed your help or your permission to be a reckless idiot with no regard for my own life.

[toldyouso]

[For all he'd deny it, even to himself, Pete can be pretty manipulative, and openly blaming himself for the Cancerverse showdown had been just that. He'd also deny there are many things that could hurt him and that at least wouldn't be a lie, but Rich being genuinely, bitterly angry at him would be one of them. Maybe on some level he did want to be yelled at about the Cancerverse a little (you know, by someone other than Gamora) but Rich telling him off for this instead suddenly makes everything a hell of a lot better.

Now he can just feel vaguely background guilty about being an ass to his friends, or: business as usual.]

Fine, fine, it was a joint stupid idea.

So. Is 31st century mental healthcare helping?

[iamresponding]

"ptsd somebody squished into a vaguely human shape."

[Repeated. With emphasis.]

i'm not knocking it because i'm at least upright and talking instead of catatonic or incoherent like i was at a few points, but that's after a cocktail of psych meds that'd probably kill an elephant.

[And that's all it's managing. Keeping him present and almost functional. Almost. (Not quite).]

it's not like the war. during the war i went from being rich rider, boy idiot to rich rider the man but i was still rich rider.

but with this i don't even remember what he was like. he's a stranger. i might as well be a couple of squids in a trenchcoat for all i have left in common with him.

[Talking about himself like he's someone else entirely is...probably not a good sign.]

so there you go.

[toldyouso]

[Pete has some not-entirely-orthodox ideas about the nature of self, given he hangs around with Adam Warlock. Also he thinks it sounds perfectly reasonable to regard a Cancerverse puppet version of you as a different person.]

Rich. I asked around and it's only been a few days on your end. You get to be a mess for a while.

[iamresponding]

i'm not allowed to be a mess.

[toldyouso]

I hate seeing you go through this and I'm the last person you should be taking advice from on coping strategies [and yet he's gonna give some anyway] but take it from someone who's been there: if you can still pull it together when the klaxons go off, the rest doesn't matter so much.

[Peter Quill: super-functional.]

cw: mental health stuff, ptsd

[iamresponding]

yeah, that's the thing.

i don't know if i can.

[And Peter knows what that means. Rich puts everything into being Nova, into helping, into jumping into action when those distress calls go off.

And if he can't do that anymore, if the slightest bit of sensory input that reminds him of one of the many ways he died kicks off a crushing, crippling flashback...

Then what is he? Who is he?

In the past, times like this had happened when he'd lost his powers. Now it's his own mind that's the enemy. And he doesn't know if that can be fixed.]

[toldyouso]

[Until now, Pete's replies have had roughly the lag you'd expect from someone reading Rich's half of the conversation and then dictating a response to the omnicomm.

This one? This one's a good ten seconds.]

Would seeing me make it better or worse?

[iamresponding]

There is no "better" or "worse" right now.

[Everything is just a haze of misery.]

But Dr. Ry'kerr says apathy's bad and I should be around my friends, so I guess I'll go with that.

[He gives him the location of his quarters.]

sliding into [action]

[toldyouso]

There is always a "worse."

[Rich, why are you friends with this guy, again?]

I'll be there in a few.

[Pete heads for the mess first, to pick up a meal of Rich's favorites, or as close as the 31st century gets. Fortunately, the staff are happy to help, from recommendations to boxing it all up, and Pete has to take a moment to accustom himself to the unfamiliar sensation of people going out of their way to help him.

Soon he's poking Rich's doorbell, doggy bag and his helmet dangling from the other hand. Yes, he asked the Legion at large where to get a drink before he even swung by his own quarters.]

[iamresponding]

[His quarters aren't that much of a mess. He's got people that care about him, from friends to Legion staff members, and people have been keeping his room clean, checking on him. The TV remote's within arm's reach, his omnicom is there too, loaded with media.]

[When Peter comes in, he's laying on the couch, wrapped in blankets. The TV is off. The lights are only on because the last person that checked on him left them that way. He hasn't shaved in few days and there are circles under his eyes. (His sleep has been restless and there hasn't been a break in the nightmares.)]

[Peter has only ever seen him moving. The only times he ever stopped were when he was straight up unconscious or half-dead, recovering from getting blown up or beaten down. And he'd always been antsy while recovering, raring to get back on his feet and back into the action.]

[Right now he's just very quiet and still, and those still waters run deep.]

Hey.

[It's barely more than a whisper.]

[toldyouso]

[Pete's got a damn good poker face and manages not to react visibly, but he doesn't think it matters. Rich likely wouldn't have noticed if he'd walked in dressed like Medusa.]

You don't need me to tell you this, but you look like hell.

[Since Rich is taking up the entire couch, Pete seats himself on the coffee table, bag and helmet beside him. He's seen PTSD before, in everyone from civilians to soldiers to other prisoners in the Kyln. Sometimes he'd tried to help, especially back when he'd been Star-Lord the first time and infected with a terrible mixture of idealism and overconfidence. Later, he hadn't. Neither choice had made much difference in the scheme of things.

But now it's Rich, and this is not how it's supposed to go. Where's Mantis or Moondragon when he needs them? Or hell, even Cosmo. The telepathic dog would probably be more help here than Pete.]

C'mon. Sit up.

[iamresponding]

[He responds to the command with the obedience of a small child. It's like the idea of sitting up and taking care of himself, of moving and talking and being a person, isn't even occurring to him as an option.]

[Every gesture is slow, like it's a struggle to have the energy to even move. His mental energy is sapped and he feels like he's constantly struggling to move through running water.]

[He manages to sit up on the couch and face Peter, but when he does it's still almost like he's looking through him, like he's barely there.]

[For a second he wants to say that he feels like hell but the effort it would take is too much for him to force past his lips. This is why he's been relying so heavily on texting. It's easy to do while barely moving, a way of talking to others despite feeling like a vegetable.]