riverview | video; @star.lord

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video; @star.lord

[ Distinguished and not-so distinguished residents of Riverview, hello.

Currently, you are graced with a mugshot of one Peter “Space-Duke” Quill and a view of the messier half of his shared apartment. In his hand is his trusty mp3 player – which boasts at least three hundred songs, holy crap, y’all – and while he has one bud in his ear, the other dangles from the wire. ]

So. Apparently if nothing else, this place has, like, all the music ever. So if I’ve gotta be stuck here, might as well make the most of it, right?

I’m on the hunt for somethin’ new. Tryin’ to play a whole lot of catch up. If anyone’s got any music recommendations, I’m all ears. Songs, artists, albums, weird, avant-garde stuff with a guy saying “number nine” over and over – hit me with your best shot. I’ll try anything once.

Also, uh.

[ A pause, and he turns the mp3 player’s face toward the camera. The screen happily displays the album art of The Best of Earth, Wind & Fire, Vol. 1 while “September” plays. Zunes, man!! Aren’t they rad? ]

Don’t suppose anyone here’s familiar enough with this that they can show me how to add stuff?

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[ Gamora's lips twist, her expression somewhat flat. ]

I was the one who suggested we go out. You chose the preferable option, so I'm not bothered.

[ This isn't some loud club or bar where she can barely pick out Peter over the music; maybe that's worse, because it means the silence leaves room for cluttered thoughts, but—

There's no smothering their darker reality with alcohol and loud beats here. That's for the better. ]

You have no need to apologize for struggling.

[ She glances to a bush of bright red flowers, pausing to admire the layered petals – a Terran rose, though she doesn't recognize it for herself. ]

Being this way is honest.

[ He makes a scoffing sound on instinct and puts on slightly disbelieving look. ]

I'm not "struggling." I just got pissed off earlier. There's a difference.

[ What was that about honesty, Gamora?

But at length he relents, letting out a soft breath to force the tension out of his frame. ]

I'm just saying. When I suggested we go on these walks together, this isn't exactly what I had in mind.

[ Two steps forward, three steps back on the honesty front, apparently.

However, insisting that he's simply being stubborn and trying to ignore how serious everything was back home isn't her strategy. She knows it wouldn't go over well, and though Gamora may be willing to push in certain directions, she knows when to relent.

But she nods, at least willing to concede that this isn't ideal. ]

That means we'll have to do it again – at another time.

[ When things aren't so heavy between them.

But she says it with such certainty, like she's offering him a simple fact – Xandarians bleed blue, Elvin Bishop is a talented musician, and there will be more walks together. ]

[ Those words, that tone, give him pause, and he finally drags up his gaze to look at her. His smile isn't much of one, once it creeps onto his face; it's small and tight-lipped, but it's also soft and relieved. Those little invitations she keeps offering him – he doesn't know where they're going to lead, exactly, but he's content to follow them without pushing.

Most of his life has been spent just going where it leads him, after all. Why wouldn't he just try more of the same, here? ]

I'll have to take you up on that.

[ He falls quiet a few more seconds as they walk the paths, as they glance over the alien flowers. Some of the plants are vaguely familiar, but it's the sort of vaguely familiar where Peter's not sure if they're some half-remembered breeds from his childhood on Earth, or plants he saw out in the galaxy and never bothered to examine.

They're pretty, though. Well-maintained. Peter's not much of a garden-stroll sort of guy, most of the time, but it's nice with Gamora.

At length he gives her a gentle nudge with his shoulder. ]

The offer I gave still stands, you know. [ Softly, earnestly. ] If you need to talk...

[ She doesn't bristle at the nudge, though she doesn't look over at him either – like the moment on Knowhere, where she'd told him so plainly about her life under Thanos's control. Staring out into the stars, not making eye contact, with that matter-of-fact tone of hers.

This time, there's something softer when she speaks. ]

I don't think I know where to begin.

[ So much happened on Ego's planet, but more than that, so much happened in hers and Nebula's lives – all throughout their childhoods. ]

[ He presses his lips together, and a part of him wishes she'd look at him. But— he gets it. How not making eye contact makes things a little easier. It's a tactic he employs often, not meeting someone's eyes because it helps to put some distance between himself and whatever he's saying.

There's a psychological reason there, he's sure. There's something scientific and academic to explain why that is. Peter's mostly content to just say it helps. ]

Well... [ A little carefully, still soft to avoid shattering the peace of the gardens. ] How 'bout you tell me how she even ended up on Ego's planet?

[ A factual retelling seems safe enough ground, and Peter has to admit he's genuinely curious about why the hell she was even there to start with. ]

[ Facts are easy. Facts allow her to be removed from the emotional component, something she's done for so much of her life.

(It's what made it so effortless to tell Peter about Thanos, about her parents. When she told him what became of her homeworld and what Thanos did to her, she said it all with a sort of practiced removal. She'd had years of experience, of course, of turning it over and over again in her mind to try and understand it.

... Though she doesn't ever think she'll understand it. The torture of a child is beyond the realm of the comprehensible.)

But facts? She can do that. ]

The Ravagers gave her a ship and our coordinates. She tracked us there, and after— [ our fight ] —I left, she showed up.

She tried to shoot me from the sky, and when I took refuge in the caverns, she continued trying to gun me down – but she was foolish enough to crash the damn ship.

[ It had been so reckless, too, so absolutely devoid of any concern for her own well-being. Nebula had just wanted to blast Gamora into smithereens. ]

I saved her life when she was trapped inside the wreckage, and she attacked me again. She could have killed me easily then; I was nearly unconscious and she had my sword.

[ He lets Gamora speak, listens intently to each word as they meander down the paths. It's the least he can offer, considering how often she's done the same for him.

A few other questions crop up as Gamora goes on, but those aren't particularly important, in the grand scheme of things. The important thing is to keep Gamora on track, to guide her to a spot where she might be comfortable talking out whatever weird shit is going on with her sister.

Assuming she even wants to. There's every chance Peter could walk her up to that point for her to turn away. That saying about horses and water. ]

And she didn't. [ Obviously, considering Gamora was still here. ] What made her stop?

[ It's a good question, one Gamora wasn't certain she would have been able to answer before. By all rights, Nebula could have killed her – and Gamora would have almost expected her to. She'd been so close, but— ]

We started to argue.

[ Her nose wrinkles at the memory – something like distaste and frustration. ]

She just suddenly let go and claimed that she'd bested in me in combat, that she'd won, even after I saved her life. We bickered— [ Which sounds absurd, giving what else had been going on. ] —and she said that I was—

[ She pauses, frowning. ]

... That I was always trying to beat her.

[ And Gamora is competitive; that's no secret. She wants to win, and she accepts that, but this was different. The tone of her voice is enough of an indicator, deviating away from that forcefully distant tone, and instead, to something heavier.

But what had really made Nebula stop? That's the greatest question, isn't it? She could have ended it all with so little effort, and she could have finally had the revenge she’d been dreaming of for years.

But why didn’t she take it? ]

... She stopped because for all those years, I was the one who wanted to win—

— and she just wanted a sister.

Oh, shit. [ Punched out of him, without any real thought. ] That's... heavy.

[ (she's not heavy, she's her sister.)

Peter isn't exactly Nebula's biggest fan, just based on what little he knew of her. It didn't help that she would have tried to kill them on the Dark Aster had it not been for Drax's itchy trigger finger, or that she was seemingly willing to help Ronan wipe out planet after planet.

But then again, there wasn't a lot he know about Nebula, in the same way there was a lot he didn't know about Gamora. He supposes he ought to give her the benefit of the doubt, except he's still, like, 65% sure she's a murderous psycho who'd shove him in front of a train if she had half a chance. ]

What'd you say?

[ Gamora's lips purse, and when she speaks again, she really can't bring herself to look over at Peter. ]

What could I say?

[ She shakes her head, her jaw clenching. ]

Every modification on Nebula's body is because of me. Every time we were pitted against each other as children, I would win, and Nebula's punishment would be the removal of another piece of herself.

I knew what she endured, and I never wanted to go through it more than I already had.

[ She'd experienced more than her fair share of it, after all, and whenever she could avoid it, she did. ]

I put my own survival above her life. She reached out to me, time and again, and I took advantage of it.

I destroyed her to save myself.

[ Oh, Jesus Christ. And he thought the last info bomb was heavy.

The words stun Peter into silence for a long while, and he stops walking to stare at her. ]

That’s not— [ He shakes his head sharply, his frown deepening. ] You don’t— actually think that, do you? That it was your fault?

[ Gamora hesitates, then shakes her head. ]

I was a child, and I was trying to keep myself alive. Intact.

But I rejected her, when she was far more family to me than anything else I'd experienced under Thanos's control.

[ And by the time she tried to appeal to Nebula, the wounds were too deep.

Nebula was already her sister, her family, and now with Guardians, she'd wanted to cling to that even more. To somehow heal what they are. She's learned so much about being a family, but she doesn't... know how to fix things. ]

But she was in pain and alone for all of those years.

[ Peter's head bows a little at that.

He knows a thing or two about pushing people away, after all, about refusing to see the folks around him as family. And he knows with far too much familiarity what happens when a guy realizes far too late how deeply those roots run.

Hesitating, he reaches out across the space between them, a hand resting on her shoulder. ]

Well, she's got you now, right? That's gotta count for something.

[ There's no sudden tension that springs into Gamora's shoulders at the touch – if anything, she seems to ease slightly. ]

If I see her again. She may have gotten herself killed trying to seek her revenge before we can even get back to our world.

[ That's what concerns her most. Nebula is so driven by her rage and her need to see Thanos suffer, but—

She doesn't believe Nebula has a chance in hell at taking down the Mad Titan. ]

[ She doesn't pull away, so Peter doesn't, either. Instead he runs his hand along her upper arm – a quiet, reassuring gesture. ]

Have some faith, huh? I think... I mean, I figure if she ever formulates a plan or anything, she'd probably want some help, right?

[ And who better to help than a team of half-crazed former criminals, some of whom have a vested interests in seeing Thanos taken down? ]

[ There's a twist in her expression, something darkening. She knows that Peter is trying to be comforting, but— ]

You don't understand what he's capable of.

[ There's a reason Gamora tried to warn Nebula away from her futile quest, why Gamora herself was intending to take the units from the Collector and run. ]

[ Maybe at another time he'd argue. Peter's heard stories, because who hasn't? A tyrant with the sorts of weapons at his disposal that most folks can only dream about. An unknown quantity, because for as however often as he appeared, wiping out planets full of people, he also stayed quiet, practically disappeared from the galactic theater without even a bow.

So he knows Thanos is terrifying. He knows Thanos is dangerous.

But he doesn't know like Gamora knows. ]

You're right. I don't.

[ He's quiet for a second, then, a little pensively, ]

... But I probably should. I mean, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy. We're gonna have to, you know, guard the galaxy from him eventually, don't you think?

[ She's admittedly grateful he doesn't try to argue with her; Peter hasn't experienced Thanos firsthand, he hasn't had to live under his reign of terror, and to assume he knows Thanos would be insulting.

Her jaw still tics minutely, her eyes narrowed as she looks across the trees. ]

I do not know how we could ever hope to fight him.

[ She believes in the Guardians, certainly, but she doesn't necessarily believe that they could deal with Thanos head-on. ]

[ He frowns at her, almost startled. It's— weird, hearing Gamora say something like that. He's heard her be pessimistic before, of course, like when they stood in the control room in the Kyln as she lamented the fact she was going to die in that stupid room. Or that day over Xandar, when they threw themselves into their suicide mission against Ronan like a band of idiots.

So, yeah, she's been pessimistic. She's been cynical, but it'd been borne out of irritation.

This— just sounds defeatist. ]

We just need more firepower. That's all.

[ "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

He pauses, stepping around to rest both of his hands on her shoulders, his touch light and careful. ]

We'll work our way up to it. But— I think... I think one of these days, he's gonna be a problem that's gonna fall on our plate, whether we're ready for it or not.

[ The hardest part about this is that Gamora knows Peter is right. Thanos is only growing more and more dangerous, and at some point, he's finally going to strike. They'll need more than just their own power if they intend to stand against him.

She draws her eyes up when Peter steps in front of her, and though she tries to keep that hardened look in place, steely as ever, there's a touch of fear in her eyes.

Hesitantly, she reaches up, her hand hooking gently over his wrist – not to pull him away or break contact, but for something to hold onto to. ]

I know that.

[ They'll have no choice but to deal with him. ]

But we aren't ready now.

[ The team is fractured, they've been removed from their own world, and in the wake of everything else, she doesn't think they're up for it yet. ]

[ Oh, man.

Peter's not sure if he's ever seen Gamora look like this. She's always so— brave. Fearless. The sort of person who'd see a ten-story monster and go for a weapon rather than run away. So to see her like this, with that little thread of dread in her eyes – it's a little intimidating.

... No. Scratch that. A lot intimidating.

And Gamora's right, too. They barely got away from Ego, and for as powerful as he had been, he had only been one guy. Thanos has entire armies, trusted generals. What could a bunch of assholes possibly hope to do against that? ]

Maybe not now, yeah, but— we can be.

[ A little touch of determination.

He holds her gaze for a few more seconds before letting out a breath, bowing his head. Absently, he runs his hand up and down her arm again. ]

Sorry. That's not what we're here to talk about. I didn't mean to derail you like that.

[ She wants to share his determination. Gamora doesn't cower, and she doesn't turn away from a fight – except this. With the units from selling the orb, she'd intended to get as far away as possible; disappearing was her only hope of escape, she truly believed, and now that Nebula wants to go after their father herself?

That scares her.

But she shakes her head, still holding gently onto his wrist. ]

Don't apologize. I do not know what else there is to say about my sister.

[ Especially because she just plain doesn't know what to do about Nebula; surely there's nothing she can while they're here. ]

If— [ He frowns at that, because— part of him is still waffling on whether or not he wants to stay here. They have responsibilities back home, they have a family back home, but a part of Peter just wants to forget about all of that, at least for a little while.

Selfish, of course. But Peter's always been selfish. ]

... When. [ He makes the correction a little uncertainly. ] When we go back, I mean. Do you wanna go after her?

[ That "if" catches on his lips, and Gamora looks up at him, uncertain. The last time they discussed this, Peter had seemed to have no (or minimal) qualms about staying in the city, but—

"If I had to stay."

It had been so different from saying "when". It's the "when" that Gamora is preoccupied with.

She hesitates, because even though she's considered it, she doesn't have a solid answer. ]

I don't think it would be welcome. She's only going to come to me when she wants to, not because I try to force her to listen to reason.

[ She wants Nebula to stay with them, but she doubts her sister would be eager to do so. ]

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