#tostardust

      𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍. the girl, the apartment, everything that was built on complete revenge -- could vanish right in front of her. the apartment can go but it was shelter for her daughter. how does one spill the beans about that? despite the trust that’s been built, it’s the only secret that couldn’t be shared, for his sake and hers. palms rubbed together, dry as warmth overtakes the safe house. lacing her fingers, there was no telling on whether or not she would be able to face john and tell him everything he needed to know. it shouldn’t be his burden. this was hers,  “  i don’t know if that’s true,  ”  she finally spoke, soft with caution. rolling in her lips, moistening in prep to speak further, eyes closed for a brief moment so she could sort out her thoughts,  “  i need a place to lay low. somewhere out of the city. i’m sorry to ask you, john. i really am.  ”

         𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒, 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. quiet, tucked away places like diners with home cooked meals that not many people bother with anymore gave her a sense of comfort, a brief second in time that reminded her of dog days and sleepless nights. two cups of fresh coffee, the scent crawling up her nose and filling her lungs warmly displayed everything she had left on the table. there were no more lies to tell now. not a drop was told to john, there hadn't been a chance in life to do so. his own agenda didn't allow her, there was no point. with a tighter jaw, she inhaled some bravery and exhaled her stress,  "  okay,  "  starting off carefully, eyes scanned for more droplets on the window pane,  "  i fell off the map. i wanted to settle. all of this... warfare, became too dangerous... for my daughter. changed my name, left the country. and slowly i came back because i knew i wasn't completely 'off the map'.  "

 another  iteration  of  himself  leaves  peter  wondering  what  everyone  else's  alternate  universe  versions  of  themselves  were  like.  it's  a  wonder  enough  that  they  all  had  similar  stories  —  that  small  details  made  the  biggest  differences.  it's  the  implication  that  the  butterfly  effect  was  very  real;   a  seemingly  unimportant  decision  could  have  been  the  difference  between  him  and  another  version  of  himself.  which  leads  him  to  wondering:  what  decisions  did  this  peter  make  differently  than  him?  he's  clearly  at  a  different  stage  in  his  life,  farther  along  in  his  journey  than  the  most  recent  version  he'd  met  had  been  —  but  the  sense  of  humor  is  a  distinct  parker-ism.  he  raises  a  brow,  tilting  his  head  as  he  considers  the  words,  rubbing  his  palm  over  his  face  before  shaking  his  head  with  finality.   “ no  —  no,  um  —  i'm  not  —  i'm  not  seeing  it.  maybe  it's  the  uh,  multiverse  thing? ”   he  crosses  his  arms,  curling  his  fingers  into  a  fist  and  resting  his  chin  on  the  knuckles  of  one  hand.  “ or  —  or  it's  just. . . not  a  thing. . .?  maybe. ”

 she  remembers  the  smell  of  gunpowder.  she  remembers  the  iron  taste  of  blood  in  her  mouth,  the  numbness  that  swallowed  her  whole,  her  mother  holding  her  hand  and  kissing  her  on  the  head.  the  pain  has  long  since  passed,  whether  because  of  stubbornness  or  the  inability  to  feel  it  anymore.  there's  a  warmth  that  envelopes  her  and  then  suddenly  the  world  is  quiet.    the  dream  plays  on  repeat,  always  ending  with  her  mother's  soft  smile  and  the  warm  flash  of  light  that  surrounds  her.  she's  interrupted  by  moments,  flashes  of  darkness:  a  snarling  beast  with  red  eyes,  the  tearing  of  flesh,  echoing  screams. but  these  are  mere  moments  --  moments  where  jo  nears  waking  from  her  fevered  sleep  and  the  pain  starts  to  surface  again.  it  feels  like  an  eternity,  the  dream  on  repeat,  when  in  reality  it's  mere  hours  that  are  passing  by.  she  doesn't  remember  the  shouts  directed  toward  her  to  stay  awake,  that  they  were  going  to  get  help.  she's  already  dreaming  when  they  carry  her  to  safety,  wounds  temporarily  wrapped  in  spare  clothing  as  they  lay  her  down  in  a  bed.    hours  pass  again,  her  dream  replays,  and  the  next  time  she  hears  the  screaming  interrupting  her  dream,  jo  wakes.  too  quickly,  she  attempts  to  sit  up,  forgetting  that  her  dreams  had  been  based  in  truth,  forgetting  that  numbness  that  swallowed  her  up  had  also  been  protecting  her  from  feeling  the  great  tear  in  her  abdomen.  she's  quick  to  lay  back  down,  exhaling  loudly  as  her  heart  rate  quickens.  fear  sets  in  as  she  realizes  she's  awake  in  a  foreign  place,  dark  but  warm,  safe  but  unfamiliar. hand  presses  to  the  now  properly  dressed  wound,  and  memories  start  coming  back  in  pieces.  words  come  out  first  as  a  whisper,  followed  by  a  croak.  “ jesus. . . hello? ”   if  this  were  a  prison,  then  at  least  the  dream  would  continue.

Nodding, Gemma put the rifle down and looked over at the woman. She was right sometimes (and very rarely) shooting off the bat was not the best idea. “Okay… You seem to know him better than me, so what do you have on him?” Gemma sometimes was willing to take the second in command on a job that she did not know much about, especially when the person isn’t a dick about it. “Because if we just take him, I assume he has precautions, and the organization will go on.” Ducking down, she stayed out of sight, “should we pull back and then come back when we have a better plan?”

It was an odd thing to blurt out to someone. Especially in the situation, the two found themselves in. “And just what kind of ‘weird’ phone calls would  I be getting, Topher?” Gemma turned to face him, locking her computer on her way around. “Because it seems to me you are keeping things from me… And that isn’t going to work out well for you.” Standing up, arms crossed over her chest, “what is going on? Because I would hope after all the shit we’ve both been through you would have some trust in me… Unless…” A devilish grin danced across her face “it would happen to be a phone call from my father. Because I could turn you over to him if you want to keep secrets.”

Gemma is kind of on the fence about morals. On one hand, Gemma does have a line and morals she follows. But on the other hand, she does what has to be done to get the operation and or job done. DELTA, unlike most military kind of operate in the dark, many of them not telling what they did. So from the start, Gemma learned that there were laws that people did not need to follow. Much like Loki, she does believe that freedom is a lie and that laws are not for everyone. This is why she tends to wobble on the whole ‘doing what I want' and ‘I have a line I will not cross.’ (I know that is confusing. But, Gemma herself is kinda confused about her morals sometimes. Haha)