The thought of time stretching out in front of him, endless and purposeless made him pale just a bit, though as shaken as he already was from the day, it seemed unlikely that any new pallor would even show. Always, always, there had been a purpose. The incarceration 30 years ago he'd managed to see as a temporary setback, but somehow this seemed like so much more. If the virus had fallen, been released, someone would have said so. Hiro would not have said "he tried" to do it. He would have said exactly what Adam had done and how many people were now at risk.
Or Hiro would have gone back and stopped it.
But Peter would have destroyed the virus, which meant it was gone. No Plan B, not in this lifetime. Hiro's words had taken the edge off of his rampant desire to carve him into little pieces and bring him back just to do it again until he screamed how sorry he was and promised to never cross Adam again. How do you strike out at someone who placed their life in your hands? How was there any...there was no fight there either.
For years all he had done was fight to keep himself focused. Fight to keep himself sane. Fight to keep himself on track. Fight to keep the dream alive, and now it was gone, everything slipping away except the man in front of him. That Jack still wanted anything to do with him made his knees almost weak in gratitude.
He managed more of a smile that didn't twist back onto itself in something like a grimace, loosening the death grip he had on the sword enough to return the slight brush of fingers against Jack's. "Home...sounds good," he said, voice soft. It was an unfamiliar word, and not his, but it felt good on his lips.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-12-05 09:57 pm (UTC)Or Hiro would have gone back and stopped it.
But Peter would have destroyed the virus, which meant it was gone. No Plan B, not in this lifetime. Hiro's words had taken the edge off of his rampant desire to carve him into little pieces and bring him back just to do it again until he screamed how sorry he was and promised to never cross Adam again. How do you strike out at someone who placed their life in your hands? How was there any...there was no fight there either.
For years all he had done was fight to keep himself focused. Fight to keep himself sane. Fight to keep himself on track. Fight to keep the dream alive, and now it was gone, everything slipping away except the man in front of him. That Jack still wanted anything to do with him made his knees almost weak in gratitude.
He managed more of a smile that didn't twist back onto itself in something like a grimace, loosening the death grip he had on the sword enough to return the slight brush of fingers against Jack's. "Home...sounds good," he said, voice soft. It was an unfamiliar word, and not his, but it felt good on his lips.