STICKS AND STONES LET ME ATONE

This chapter was a bit of a bitch to write. I passionately hate dialogue, and this chapter doesn't give me much of a break from it. I can only describe these buggers so many ways. Just... Take it already. I'm done.

The second time it happened, it was two days later. Denarian Dey asked to show him around the Nova Corps, and Peter was surprisingly well behaved for an ex-con-we won't talk about the marker incident that he was totally and completely uninvolved in. They were having a great time, talking up a storm, when Peter's head started hurting, and he started to wobble like a newborn fawn.

"Peter?" Dey, only receiving a grunt in response as Peter leaned against the wall, face in the crook of his arm, was not deterred. "Peter. Throw me a bone, here. I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"Headache." Peter curtly responded, not wanting to say what he thought it really was, more for his own sake than the newly promoted officer's. "Can we just head back to my room?"

"Well, we could, but my office is closer, and I may have some pain killers in there." If Peter had been willing to remove his eyes from their dark haven, he would have seen a very concerned Dey, and probably wouldn't have flinched when the man laid his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Pain killers sound lovely right now." The Terran hybrid groaned, allowing Dey to lead him to the man's office. Peter was uncharacteristically quiet, understandable, considering that the man currently felt as though his entire body was on fire.

"Now, here we are. My office." The man paused, looking around proudly, before remembering why he was there. "I know I left those painkillers somewhere around here..." The Xandarian scrambled about the room, leaving peter on his own.

"If you can't find them, I'll be fine, just let me go back to my room and sleep it off," The Terran hybrid was facing rapidly increasing pain, and to be frank, he just wanted to pass out.

"No, it'll only be a minute," came a muffled voice, almost completely overshadowed by the shuffling of drawers. The shuffling ceased, however, when Peter let out a moan. "Peter?" When the ex-ravager didn't respond, Dey looked up. The Terran didn't look all too good. He was shaking, back pressed against the wall, head slumped down and arms limp at his sides. "Peter!" Dey called out, his tone sharp and worried. It jolted Peter enough that he opened his eyes for a moment, seeing only blinding purple. He let out a small whine, crumpling to the ground instantly. Dey rushed over to the younger man, kneeling down beside Peter before he could try and get up. Dey grabbed the Terran's hand and nearly dropped it when he saw his eyes. They weren't the normal earthy green color, but instead, a bright, burning purple color. "Shit."

"Dey? What..?" His voice was slurred,

"Your eyes are purple." Distress laced the official's voice.

"Figured." The word came out as a moan, it was the best he could manage, considering his entire body felt like it was burning.

"Should I call someone?" Dey voice had a worried tone, as if he was already planning on calling in a medic. "Your team?"

"No need. There's really not that much they can do." Peter's voice was tight, eyes now scrunched shut in a vain attempt to blind himself to the purple light.

"You sure? Your team should know. It might happen to them."

"I will. Just-ugh" Peter groaned through clenched teeth. "Not. Now." His voice was strained and halting, the edges of his vision were dancing with darker shades of purple. He groans, wanting the darkness to spread and claim him already, but it was resisting. "Just... Let me be." He grates out, panting.

"Are you sure?" Dey stares intently at the prone figure, looking for any sign that he would accept help.

"Yesss," hissed Peter. "I'll be-fine" he panted out.

"I'll just stay here. If you need me to get someone-something, just let me know. Slap my leg or something."

"Gotcha." Peter rolled over to his side, attempting to curl in on himself as the pain rapidly rose to debilitating levels. He lost himself in the pain, though, occasionally, he would come back down to feel Dey's hand on his shoulder, or his leg against his back. Peter didn't know if it helped the pain or not, but it gave him something to ground himself with. After some time passed, Peter finally moved, stretching his sore body. "How long?"

"About a half hour." Dey spoke quietly, as if a loud enough tone would set peter back into a fit.

"Really. Felt longer." Peter sat up slowly, bracing himself against the wall. "You're not about to let me off without some answers, are you."

"That's correct, Peter." Denarian Dey looked down at him from where he stood, offering a hand. "What exactly was that?"

"Honestly? I really don't know." Peter took the proffered hand, pulling himself up on unsteady legs. "Best guess is that the stone isn't ready to let me go."

"How many times? The Xandarian lead him to his desk, sitting the Terran down in his plush office chair.

"Once. Right before the meeting with Nova Prime." After the fit, he was far too exhausted to even consider sugarcoating it. "It lasted longer last time. Might be slowing down. Or it could be proportional to the distance from the stone." Peter pauses in thought before continuing, "I honestly don't know."

"If I leave you to your own devices, you will tell your team." It was more of a demand than a question.

"I don't think I have a choice," Peter explains. "What happens if we're fighting against the next genocidal maniac, and I just collapse? They'll find out. I'll tell them."

"They deserve to know. Don't take too long."