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Matthew Howard [Pietro Maximoff] ([info]highspeed) wrote in [info]crossover,
@ 2008-11-22 08:38:00

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Entry tags:gilda dent, quicksilver

Who: Gabrielle (Gilda Dent) and Matthew (Quicksilver)
What: Finding someone to hide with turn to
When: After this
Where: Gabrielle's pad
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of violence


Standing outside her door, more than a little shell-shocked, Matthew noted absently that the power was out not just in Queens but in parts of the city as well. It struck him as a little odd that he and Magneto could cause such destruction in this world. Some things never changed.

He knocked on Gabrielle's door with his good arm. The one that had been clipped by Wally's weapon was hanging limply, some blood trickling down to his fingers. It hurt. With all the little cuts that decorated his body, just standing there hurt. He knocked again stiffly and loudly, almost shaking the door on its hinge.

"Please be home." Matthew's voice was thin. "Please."

He swayed on his feet. The use of his power and having watched Magneto tear down half of a power plant was starting to get to him. When the door finally opened, Matthew exhaled in relief. Before he even caught full sight of her, he was speaking. "Sorry," was the first thing he said. "Wasn't fast enough. Need..." he stumbled forward, almost falling into her arms. He righted himself at the very last minute and caught her eye. He knew he looked pathetic. Gone was the normal, arrogant man that Matthew always strove to be. Standing in his place was a broken boy. He had the shame to glance down at his feet. Part of him expected she'd turn him away.



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[info]ibelieveinhim
2008-11-22 08:29 am UTC (link)
Before she even noticed she was doing it, Gaby was instinctively responding with an "It's alright". She accepted his weight without a second glance, her body looking unusually small and fragile next to his gangly height; but with the tables turned, she helped him limp into the living room and towards the nearest seat: her couch, faintly illuminated by candles on the coffeetable and a flashlight lying on the bookcase.

As horrific as the situation was, as frightening the spectre and name of Magneto, she still liked being there for someone. A part of her experienced an exquisite little thrill at having a man needing her for once--

"How badly hurt are you? I can't really see." Her fingertips lightly splayed across his arm, delicately, trying to assess the damage.

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