When he'd first gotten here, he'd just been glad to be alive. His last memory was what he'd thought was his death. He'd been missing an arm. But he was alive and so it'd been good for a while. Then things had gotten bad - real bad - when he'd discovered the truth about when he'd been pulled from and what nightmares he'd been carrying with him.
But now he's... himself again. Maybe not his old self, but this new self can make it. While he still carries the hurt it's got its positives, like making him want more than ever to not have to see other people hurt. And it's made him stronger. If he could survive that, he can survive damn near anything.
Most importantly of all: the little voice has gone quiet, the one that used to tell him he was never good enough. The one that somehow survived the war, even despite him killing Annihilus and basically saving his universe. Over the years, it'd gotten quieter since his teens, of course, especially with the way the New Warriors had treated him, but it'd never really been this quiet.
He's heard too much. He's heard too many people treat him as worthwhile. He's heard the pleading and anger in the voices of his friends when they were trying to talk him down from hurling himself into a black hole. And that was all much louder.
Rich stands there, arms folded, helmet collapsed in his belt, watching people say their goodbyes and saying his whenever someone comes close that he wants to say goodbye to. And he thinks about how his universe will try to top this somehow, but he's not sure it can.
It doesn't get much bigger than saving the entire multiverse, sooo they've basically all peaked.
They've done a hell of a thing here. Hell of a thing. And for once, instead of looking to the horizon for the next cosmic crisis, he's looking at an actual future where he's alive, and where things might be just a little bit brighter.
cw: mention of suicide
But now he's... himself again. Maybe not his old self, but this new self can make it. While he still carries the hurt it's got its positives, like making him want more than ever to not have to see other people hurt. And it's made him stronger. If he could survive that, he can survive damn near anything.
Most importantly of all: the little voice has gone quiet, the one that used to tell him he was never good enough. The one that somehow survived the war, even despite him killing Annihilus and basically saving his universe. Over the years, it'd gotten quieter since his teens, of course, especially with the way the New Warriors had treated him, but it'd never really been this quiet.
He's heard too much. He's heard too many people treat him as worthwhile. He's heard the pleading and anger in the voices of his friends when they were trying to talk him down from hurling himself into a black hole. And that was all much louder.
Rich stands there, arms folded, helmet collapsed in his belt, watching people say their goodbyes and saying his whenever someone comes close that he wants to say goodbye to. And he thinks about how his universe will try to top this somehow, but he's not sure it can.
It doesn't get much bigger than saving the entire multiverse, sooo they've basically all peaked.
They've done a hell of a thing here. Hell of a thing. And for once, instead of looking to the horizon for the next cosmic crisis, he's looking at an actual future where he's alive, and where things might be just a little bit brighter.