[ Peter doesn't wish. He watches, and he appreciates; he thinks about how strange it is that something as small as a grain of sand could cause such a stir, could flare to life and burst across the night sky.
And he thinks about Mom and Earth and feels that pang of nostalgia, bittersweet and aching. He thinks of every night between leaving Earth and now, how the sky was different every time he looked, how the stars rearranged every time he turned away. Every night there were new constellations, new configurations for him to stare at, and he felt so small.
He misses looking up and seeing the same sky, sometimes. He misses the stability. He misses knowing where to look for the Big Dipper or Orion's Belt. There were so few things in his life he could be sure of, and even that was taken from him. He could only trust himself -- because everyone and everything would change. Shift. Leave. Disappear.
And then those idiots burst into his life. And then the Collector made the mistake of thinking Kasumi Goto, best thief in the galaxy, needed back-up. And aside from a few hiccups along the way, they've stayed. They've stuck by him. And Kasumi's the biggest surprise of all; someone who slips from sight so easily but stays around with his stupid ass because-- she likes him, he guesses. Lord knows he's not exactly useful to her.
But that's not what it's about, is it? Sometimes he forgets that relationships aren't about equivalent exchange. Sometimes he forgets that people don't need a concrete reason to just-- stick around. He's never quite sure what it is that gets Kasumi to stay, but whatever it is? He's glad for it. He's glad she's here. Warm and alive and here.
His hand moves down to find hers, and he squeezes it, turns to catch her gaze. ]
Hey. [ His voice is quiet, small. Like he's not sure of his words or where he's going with this. ] Thanks for-- this. For-- being here.
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And he thinks about Mom and Earth and feels that pang of nostalgia, bittersweet and aching. He thinks of every night between leaving Earth and now, how the sky was different every time he looked, how the stars rearranged every time he turned away. Every night there were new constellations, new configurations for him to stare at, and he felt so small.
He misses looking up and seeing the same sky, sometimes. He misses the stability. He misses knowing where to look for the Big Dipper or Orion's Belt. There were so few things in his life he could be sure of, and even that was taken from him. He could only trust himself -- because everyone and everything would change. Shift. Leave. Disappear.
And then those idiots burst into his life. And then the Collector made the mistake of thinking Kasumi Goto, best thief in the galaxy, needed back-up. And aside from a few hiccups along the way, they've stayed. They've stuck by him. And Kasumi's the biggest surprise of all; someone who slips from sight so easily but stays around with his stupid ass because-- she likes him, he guesses. Lord knows he's not exactly useful to her.
But that's not what it's about, is it? Sometimes he forgets that relationships aren't about equivalent exchange. Sometimes he forgets that people don't need a concrete reason to just-- stick around. He's never quite sure what it is that gets Kasumi to stay, but whatever it is? He's glad for it. He's glad she's here. Warm and alive and here.
His hand moves down to find hers, and he squeezes it, turns to catch her gaze. ]
Hey. [ His voice is quiet, small. Like he's not sure of his words or where he's going with this. ] Thanks for-- this. For-- being here.