[ He's not surprised when she finally decides to get to what's bothering her, nor is he surprised at the form it takes. He doesn't look away from her as she lays it out, half silhouetted in the gloom of the warehouse and the faint glow of the underground city that's the closest they get to sunlight, light reflected off the rippling water running over her face and up around the walls. He stays still and silent, letting old and new memories emerge like uncovering stones on the bottom of a deep cold pond.
He doesn't remember dying, exactly, though he knows it was a bad way to go. His brain has healed over the trauma and the pain, so it's blurry. He does remember the days before it happened, and coming back. Slowly reintegrating himself into the world, staying at the edges for far too long. Regretting it when he came home too late and found them all gone. And then that mess with Loki, and then Krakoa, and he hadn't really had time to stop and think before he'd been facing them all again, his kids all in the same place, looking to him for guidance. Or not.
He remembers further back, to Laura as a kid and the promises he'd made her. How devastated she'd been when he'd left. How she'd followed him all the way to the Savage Land, clinging to him like a burr. The old compound of guilt and desperate sorrow at what she's been through still lingers in him and probably always will, the product of knowing that he'd failed long before she'd been born, in the very fabric of his existence.
And now she's here, and suffering again because of him. Kurt would probably point out that he's being selfish to claim her grief, but he does it anyway, because it's always been the sharpest knife, the easiest way to hurt himself.
He swallows roughly around a knot rising in his throat. He forces himself to unclench his fists with a faint creak of Krakoan-manufactured leather, glancing down at the flooded gym floor. ]
I know. You.. from what you said when you first got here. I should've told you sooner, Laura, I'm sorry. I didn't know how and that's a goddamn stupid excuse, I know --
[ He clears his throat again and tries for an explanation that makes sense. Not that any of it really does. ]
I was back before anythin' with Krakoa happened. Brought back by someone who could resurrect the dead with her powers. She wanted to use me like they always wanna use us. I ended her, then I was just.. back. Whole. Able to heal again.
[ He turns to look at her again, knowing he's going to try to make excuses, hating himself for it, but wanting her to understand. His daughter, the child he knows best. ]
When I died.. that wasn't how I pictured goin' out. It was a mistake. I messed up and couldn't come back from it. But I think part of me knew it had to happen. I'm.. not meant for a peaceful life, Laura. When I lost my healing factor, I couldn't stop throwin' myself headfirst into fights like always, even though it was stupid. Over and over again. I coulda just gone off the grid, gone to Japan or out to the Rockies, stayed there. Settled down. Hid away for years waitin' for the inevitable. But even when I tried, it still all kept catchin' up to me. The violence and the death. It's my legacy. So I tried to draw it away from the people I cared about. I didn't stop to think what I was leavin' behind.
[ Slowly, he lifts up a hand, extending it out to her. ]
I know sorry ain't enough. But I am sorry, sweetheart.
no subject
He doesn't remember dying, exactly, though he knows it was a bad way to go. His brain has healed over the trauma and the pain, so it's blurry. He does remember the days before it happened, and coming back. Slowly reintegrating himself into the world, staying at the edges for far too long. Regretting it when he came home too late and found them all gone. And then that mess with Loki, and then Krakoa, and he hadn't really had time to stop and think before he'd been facing them all again, his kids all in the same place, looking to him for guidance. Or not.
He remembers further back, to Laura as a kid and the promises he'd made her. How devastated she'd been when he'd left. How she'd followed him all the way to the Savage Land, clinging to him like a burr. The old compound of guilt and desperate sorrow at what she's been through still lingers in him and probably always will, the product of knowing that he'd failed long before she'd been born, in the very fabric of his existence.
And now she's here, and suffering again because of him. Kurt would probably point out that he's being selfish to claim her grief, but he does it anyway, because it's always been the sharpest knife, the easiest way to hurt himself.
He swallows roughly around a knot rising in his throat. He forces himself to unclench his fists with a faint creak of Krakoan-manufactured leather, glancing down at the flooded gym floor. ]
I know. You.. from what you said when you first got here. I should've told you sooner, Laura, I'm sorry. I didn't know how and that's a goddamn stupid excuse, I know --
[ He clears his throat again and tries for an explanation that makes sense. Not that any of it really does. ]
I was back before anythin' with Krakoa happened. Brought back by someone who could resurrect the dead with her powers. She wanted to use me like they always wanna use us. I ended her, then I was just.. back. Whole. Able to heal again.
[ He turns to look at her again, knowing he's going to try to make excuses, hating himself for it, but wanting her to understand. His daughter, the child he knows best. ]
When I died.. that wasn't how I pictured goin' out. It was a mistake. I messed up and couldn't come back from it. But I think part of me knew it had to happen. I'm.. not meant for a peaceful life, Laura. When I lost my healing factor, I couldn't stop throwin' myself headfirst into fights like always, even though it was stupid. Over and over again. I coulda just gone off the grid, gone to Japan or out to the Rockies, stayed there. Settled down. Hid away for years waitin' for the inevitable. But even when I tried, it still all kept catchin' up to me. The violence and the death. It's my legacy. So I tried to draw it away from the people I cared about. I didn't stop to think what I was leavin' behind.
[ Slowly, he lifts up a hand, extending it out to her. ]
I know sorry ain't enough. But I am sorry, sweetheart.