This fic is somewhat of an exploration of an alternate characterization for Mantis, because while I love her in the MCU, I wanted to play with the idea of her being a little darker and a little more of an adult. As such, this fic does delve deeply into Mantis's past trauma with Ego, so if that's something that you don't feel comfortable reading, you might want to find another fic. Some potentially upsetting aspects of this fic include abuse and the (canonical) death of children.
This fic will have three chapters. Chapters two and three will be posted on February 8 and 15, respectively.
"Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness."
-Katherine Henson
Life on the Milano is very different from life on Ego's planet.
Mantis is discovering this more and more every day. On the Milano, she's part of a family. She's equal to the others, and she has the freedom, at least to an extent, to do what she wants. No one orders her around. If someone wants something from her, they ask, and she always has the right to refuse. Her place here is secure as long as she wants it, the Guardians tell her, just by virtue of being herself.
It is very, very different from Ego's planet.
Mostly, she enjoys her new life. She definitely prefers it to her old one. And she would never complain about the Guardians, of course. She owes them far too much.
But if she ever were to complain, she would only say one thing: They treat her like she's innocent.
Mantis has seen far too much to be innocent.
Her naiveté, her social ineptitude, all the things that help her put up that front, they're all exaggerated. Ego wanted her to act naive when people came to his planet, so no one would suspect anything from her. It meant she could appear guileless, so she could get under people's skin and make them trust her. She did it with all the other children she knew in the years that she lived with Ego. She did it with the Guardians when she first met them. She's toned it down now that she's left Ego's planet, but her original impression has stuck with the others. It probably isn't helped by the fact that she's still a little confused by all of the dynamics going on between the Guardians on the ship. She's not very good at reading emotions on people's faces, and most of the Guardians won't let her touch them.
But she's not innocent.
She knows too much- She's seen too much- She's done too much to be innocent. She acted like one, and she tries to see the good in things whenever she can, but she is not innocent. She doesn't know exactly how to explain that to the others, though, so she allows them to treat her like a child without a word. Peter and Gamora coddle her, Rocket dismisses her (although he seems to mostly dismiss everyone, so she's not entirely certain if it's because of her perceived naiveté or not), and Drax teaches her things she already knows. Groot is an actual child, so at least he treats Mantis the same as he treats all the others. Kraglin leaves to join another group of Ravagers after a while, but when he was there, he treated Mantis differently than the others and always looked to Peter and Gamora for approval before he told her anything.
The only one who doesn't treat her like a child, when she occasionally shows up, is Nebula.
The first time they reunite with Nebula, she's just lost her ship and needs a ride to the closest port. Gamora tries to talk to her, but Nebula doesn't seem to be in the mood to talk. She ends up alone in the back of the ship, near the airlock, tinkering with her prosthetic arm. After everyone settles back into their usual routine, Mantis goes to the back of the ship and sits down, watching her.
"What are you doing here?" Nebula asks. Her voice is, as always, raspy and harsh with a mechanical undertone. Mantis likes it. Nebula never gentles her tone just because she's talking to Mantis, never speaks to her like a child.
"I like to sit here," Mantis says. "It is quiet."
Nebula looks up at her, then silently goes back to tinkering with the prosthetic. Mantis watches her in silence. She wonders what Nebula's emotions would feel like. She wonders if she could read Nebula at all, as modified as she is.
"You're not as bad as the rest of them," Nebula says when she finishes her tinkering. Mantis is still absorbing the praise as Nebula stands. "We're almost at the port."
"I hope to see you again," Mantis says.
Nebula doesn't return the sentiment, but she doesn't deny it either. Mantis gets the feeling that's a victory.
The others file into the room when they reach the port, since it's the way out of the ship, and Mantis sees Gamora and Peter both do a double take when they see her already there with Nebula. Gamora sends her sister off with a fond farewell that Nebula doesn't return, and then Drax and Peter go off to pick up supplies.
"Mantis?" Gamora says before Mantis can go back to her room.
"Yes?" Mantis replies.
Gamora's jaw works a little, the only outward sign that she's anything but perfectly composed. "My sister is dangerous," she finally says. "Be careful. It's probably not smart to spend time alone with her."
"I do not think she will hurt me," Mantis says.
Gamora's expression tells Mantis immediately that she thinks the sentiment comes from naiveté. It doesn't. Mantis is entirely aware that Nebula could rip her to shreds without breaking a sweat. But she doesn't think Nebula will, not unless Mantis does something to provoke her. She thinks she's just as safe with Nebula as she is with the Guardians.
She doesn't know how to explain that to Gamora, though, so she just nods when Gamora repeats her warning, and she goes back to her room. She's tired, and she wishes she could just lie down and get some sleep, but she can't. She's seen too much to allow for a dreamless sleep. She hasn't had one in so very long.
Mantis was still a larva when Ego brought her to his planet. She had not yet retreated into a cocoon and emerged as an adult. She wouldn't do it for about a year.
She didn't remember much of that early time on Ego's planet. She barely remembered anything about life on her own planet. Ego told her she was an orphan, but she thought she could remember embraces and warmth from people who looked like her. When she was little, she didn't think to suspect Ego of lying, but when she grew older, she began to wonder.
In the long run, it didn't really matter whether she had parents or not. She was never going to be able to go home.
She didn't remember much of her time as a larva. But once she went into her cocoon and emerged… She remembered that. She remembered coming out, in a new form and with new abilities, and gasping when Ego touched her to help her up. She remembered the look on Ego's face as he ran her through tests to assess her new powers. She remembered when he told her she would use her powers to make him sleep.
She remembered when he told her he had one more thing he wanted her to use her powers for.
"I have many children," he told her. "They live all over the galaxy. I bring them back here, to live with me. Not all of them stay, but I bring them all here. I want you to calm them when they arrive."
Mantis might have grown into her adult body, but she was still young. She was too young to question Ego when he said that some of the children didn't stay. She was too young to ask why he had conceived so many children. Instead, she didn't say a word until Ego brought the first child back.
He was a little Krylorian child, and Mantis found that Ego's skin had changed to the same shade of pink, like he was Krylorian too. She still wasn't sure what manner of creature Ego actually was.
The child was sobbing, desperately wailing that he wanted to go home. Ego handed him to Mantis, who almost buckled under the sudden weight.
"Calm him."
Mantis shifted her bare hand to touch the boy's neck. The second her skin touched his, unfamiliar panic shot through her veins. Before she knew it, she'd fallen to her knees, the child still in her arms, and she was crying just as hard as he was.
Ego made an irritated noise and pried the child out of her arms. The panic faded, but didn't quite disappear. Mantis could still feel it, entwined closely enough with her own feelings that she didn't know how to separate it out.
"Learn to control your powers better," he said, bouncing the child on his hip. "I want you to be able to calm the next one properly."
He walked off, talking to the child in a soft, soothing voice, as Mantis knelt on the ground and wept.
"You should learn to fight," Peter tells Mantis one day, after she's been living on the Milano for a few weeks.
"Will you teach me?" Mantis asks.
"I probably should," Peter agrees. "Rocket's a shitty teacher, Drax will probably accidentally kill you, and I'm a little scared to see Gamora try to teach anyone." He eyes Mantis for a moment. "Gamora might be better at teaching hand to hand, though. She's better at it than I am."
"What will you teach, then?" Mantis asks.
"Guns," Peter replies promptly. "Guns are good, and you don't have to get too close when you use them. And guns are kinda my thing, so I can teach you better than anyone else."
"I have never fired a gun," Mantis admits.
Peter gives her a look. After a moment, Mantis recognizes it as one of the looks he gives when she says something that makes him think she's an innocent. She would never admit it, but sometimes she thinks those looks mean that he's a fool. Shooting a gun is not the only way to lose innocence, and the fact that she's never shot one means nothing.
She keeps her mouth shut, though. The others have told her that she has a place on the Milano for as long as she wants it, but she doesn't want to risk it. Ego would have killed her in an instant if she ever talked back. She doesn't think the Guardians will kill her, but they might make her leave, and she doesn't want to go.
"Guns aren't too hard to learn," Peter says after a moment. "I bet you'll be able to figure them out pretty fast. And just cause you know how to use guns doesn't mean you have to use them a lot. It's just a good idea to be able to. In case you ever have to. But you don't have to fight if you don't want to."
"I would like to know how to defend myself," Mantis says. "It would be a good thing to learn."
"How good are you at that whole sleep thing?" Peter asks. "Cause that would probably be a pretty good way to defend yourself. Just, bam, make the other guy go to sleep, fight over."
"I need to be in physical contact with the other person. And I can only do it to one person at a time."
"Maybe if Gamora teaches you some hand to hand, she can just teach you how to get under someone's guard and touch them. That would end the fight pretty quick."
"Perhaps," Mantis agrees. "When will you teach me how to use a gun?"
"Whenever you want," Peter replies. "Wanna do it now?"
"Yes, please. If you have nothing else you need to do."
"Nothing important." Peter beckons. "Come on, let's go outside."
They've landed the Milano on a forest planet, and Gamora and Drax are currently off getting supplies they need. Rocket is doing a few repairs on the ship, Groot is playing somewhere, and Peter probably stayed behind to watch over Mantis. She doesn't need a babysitter, especially not one so much younger than her, but she doesn't protest it.
Peter carves a crude target into a tree and picks up a gun. "So, the goal is to be able to do this," he says, standing by the ship. He fires, and the resulting blast is in the exact center of the target. "But if you can just hit the tree at all, that would be pretty good for your first try." He hands Mantis the gun. "Give it a go."
Mantis curls her fingers around the gun slowly. It's still a little warm from the heat of Peter's body. Carefully, she raises it, peering down the gun at the tree. She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and fires.
The blast hits the uppermost edge of the target, not the center, but Peter looks impressed anyway. "Wow. Good job. Much better than I expected, to be honest. Try again."
Mantis raises the gun again, looking down the barrel at the tree. She aims a little lower and fires.
The blast still doesn't hit the middle of the target, but it's closer. "Damn," Peter says, sounding complimentary despite the language. "Are you sure you haven't ever fired a gun before?"
"I have played darts before," Mantis offers. "My aim was very good at that too."
"You played darts with Ego?" Peter asks, sounding surprised.
"No," Mantis corrects. "I played with-"
She doesn't finish the sentence. Peter and the others must know that she knew Ego's other children, but she's never mentioned them before. She learned how to play darts with one of Ego's sons, an A'askavariian child who delighted in teaching her the game. Later, she played with other children when Ego demanded that she entertain them.
She doesn't want to say any of this to Peter.
"Oh," Peter says, clearly understanding where her sentence was going. "Okay. You wanna try again?"
Mantis raises the gun once more, and she fires.
Her blast hits the center of the target.
Mantis's abilities grew with each child that Ego brought to his planet. The more practice she got, the better she was at calming them, at reading their emotions without getting sucked into them. Each time Ego brought a child home, he would put them in Mantis's arms, and she would drain away their panic until they were calm.
The children only ever stayed for five days. After that point, Mantis would never see them again. Ego reminded her that not all of the children stayed, but he didn't tell her where they went. She was young, she was naive, and she didn't ask. She realized that something was wrong very early, but only subconsciously. She didn't let herself think about it too much. Ignorance was bliss, and she didn't want to wreak that ignorance yet.
But then, on the fifth day that a Sakaaran child spent on Ego's planet, Mantis walked in on Ego at just the wrong moment, just in time to see a spear of blue light stab through the child's chest. She screamed, and Ego turned around to see her in the doorway.
"Mantis."
"You killed him!" Mantis cried. "Why-"
"Not all of the children stay," Ego said, as if it were that simple.
"You kill all of them?" Mantis asked, horrified. She'd helped Ego, she'd helped calm his children when they arrived, and she was just leading them to the slaughter.
"Mantis," Ego said in a calm, gentle voice, "I need a child that carries my Celestial genes. I have no use for those who do not."
"You could send them home!" Mantis cried.
"They will die soon enough anyway," Ego dismissed. "They're mortal. All mortals die."
"I'm mortal," Mantis said, her voice trembling. "Will you-"
"You help me sleep," Ego said. "You help calm the children. The children don't stay because they're not useful. You stay because you are."
There was a very clear threat in the sentence: If there ever came a day when Mantis was no longer useful, she could expect to meet the same fate as the children.
"How many children do you have?" Mantis asked quietly.
"Very many," Ego replied. "Many came before you, and many will come after. I will keep searching until I find a child who can control the light."
"And if they cannot, you kill them."
"Yes," Ego said. "I do."
The ground opened up under the body of the Sakaaran child, and it disappeared into the planet. Mantis didn't know where it was going, but if Ego had done this many times before, Mantis assumed he had a place where he kept the bodies of the children he killed. She didn't ever want to see it.
"You don't need to worry," Ego said, putting a hand on Mantis's shoulder. She flinched away from his touch. "You won't be joining them."
"I-"
"What do you say?" Ego prompted. The words were spoken gently, but they felt like slaps.
"Thank you," Mantis whispered.
"You're welcome," Ego said, sounding pleased, and he left the room.
Mantis's knees gave out. She stared at the spot where the child's body had fallen, now untouched with no evidence that anyone had died there. She remembered calming the child when he first arrived. She remembered telling him that he was safe.
She sobbed.
"What can I do to help?" Mantis asks every day on the Milano.
Sometimes, the others come up with chores for her to do. She helps Drax cook, or watches Groot, or holds things in place for Rocket while he builds contraptions she'd rather not know too much about. Other times, no one has a task for her, and she wanders listlessly, trying to figure out how to be useful.
"You don't have to be doing something all the time," Peter tells her one day, when she asks him if there's anything she can do. This may be true, but Mantis doesn't feel like she's ever doing something, except when she asks for a job. The others all have their own skills, but her only skills are her empathetic powers and her ability to put people to sleep, neither of which the other Guardians seem to want to take advantage of. If they don't need her on the ship - and it doesn't seem like they do - then why would they let her stay?
She takes to cleaning, something she learned to do during the times when Ego left the planet to gather his children or create more. For the most part, he was able to keep everything clean himself, but when he went away, Mantis had to clean and cook herself. Those times were the only ones when she felt free, despite the extra work. She didn't have to worry about Ego or watch any of his children die.
When no one has work for Mantis to do, she gets a bucket of water and scrubs the ship. She starts in the back, near the airlock, cleaning the floors and the walls and even, with the help of a step-stool, the ceilings. Within a few days, she's ready to move to another room. She cleans the rooms that are used less often, not wanting to be in anyone's way, and as such, her efforts aren't noticed for a few days. It's not until they land on a planet and go to leave through the airlock that anyone sees what she's done.
"Woah," Peter says, looking around. "I don't think this place has ever been this clean. Who did this?"
"I did it," Mantis says shyly, raising her hand. "When I had nothing else I needed to do."
"You cleaned this whole thing?" Peter asks, looking around. "And are you why the storage room looks weirdly clean too?"
Mantis hesitates. Weirdly clean? Is that a bad thing? Should she not have done this?
"This is amazing, Mantis," Gamora says, and Mantis feels relief rush through her veins. "I didn't even know this ship could be clean."
"Hey!" Peter protests.
"But you didn't need to do it," Gamora adds. "And you didn't need to do it by yourself."
"I was happy to help," Mantis says earnestly. She's happy to do whatever it takes to earn her keep.
Gamora still looks a little concerned, but she doesn't push it. They finish their work on the planet and return to the stars, traveling around until they find somewhere else they need to go.
Now that she knows the others are pleased with it, Mantis cleans even harder than before. She scrubs the ship within an inch of its life. No where is safe but the others' sleeping quarters, which she doesn't dare enter without permission. Groot lets her clean his room while he "helps" by splashing in the water, but the others don't mention it, and Mantis doesn't ask. She knows her place here, and she's not going to try to go where she's not welcome.
When Mantis finally finishes cleaning the whole ship, she allows herself a minute of satisfaction, then a minute of fear. What can she do now to prove her worth? She still helps cook sometimes, and she takes care of Groot quite a lot, but it's nothing important. Back on Ego's planet, her job was important: She helped him sleep. And here, the others all have important jobs, ones that only they could do. Mantis has nothing.
Then she notices that some of the more commonly-visited areas are growing dirty again, especially right by the airlock, and so she cleans the whole ship again.
Once Mantis learned that Ego killed his children when they arrived, there was no going back. She wished desperately that she had never found out, that she had continued to live in ignorance, but that wouldn't have changed anything. The children still would have ended up dead, and Mantis still would have been complicit in it.
The first child he brought back after she saw him kill the Sakaaran child was a tiny little jötunn. She was so very young, and all Mantis wanted to do was protect her, but she didn't know how.
"Master," she asked Ego after she put the little girl to bed, "if Ingrid cannot control the light, can she go home?"
"I'm not going to travel all the way back to Jotunheim to return a child who failed," Ego dismissed. "She's mortal. She'll die soon enough, even if she goes back."
"But-"
"You have my answer, Mantis, and it's final," Ego replied, his voice measured and immeasurably dangerous. He looked like a jötunn now too - he always changed his shape to match his children - and his voice was lower and gravely because of it. His red eyes looked annoyed, but not angry. Not yet.
"I understand, Master," Mantis murmured, bowing and leaving the room. She wandered the halls, finally ending up outside Ingrid's room. She almost entered, but stopped herself before she could touch the doorknob. It would be easier if she didn't let herself get too attached. There was nothing she could do to save Ingrid or any of the other children, so there was no point in caring too much for them when they were all doomed.
Ego would say that they were all doomed by virtue of being mortal. Mantis couldn't believe that, at least not for every species. Her species, she knew, was very long-lived. Now that she'd emerged from her cocoon as an adult, she would live for a long time without another change to her appearance. She didn't know if jötnar were the same, or Sakaarans, or Krylorians, or any of the other species of children that Ego had brought back to his planet. She didn't think it mattered. Even if they only had a few years left, then didn't they have the right to live those years out? Ego was their father, but he had no right to dictate how long their lives could be.
Those were treasonous thoughts. Mantis put a stop to them and turned away from Ingrid's door, heading to her own room. She couldn't think such things about Ego. He was her master. If he ever caught wind of those sorts of thoughts, he would kill her in an instant. Even if, through some unbelievable stroke of mercy, he chose to let her live, he would never let her stay. He would dump her on some other planet, alone and abandoned, and she would die there.
She hated Ego, but she couldn't dare to even think it. She had to do what he said, stay faithful at his side, and hope her loyalty kept him from disposing of her the way he disposed of the children who failed him. If that was what he did to his own flesh and blood, she didn't even want to think about what he would do if she failed him too.
The Guardians end up reuniting with Nebula again not long after the incident with her ship. This time, her new ship is merely damaged, not destroyed. She docks it in the airlock and works on repairing it, refusing any offers of help and generally making everyone afraid to go anywhere near her.
Mantis, though, isn't afraid. Gamora warned her to stay away from Nebula, that Nebula was dangerous, but Mantis still doesn't think that Nebula will actually hurt her. Nebula is grumpy, and she can be sharp and biting with her words, but she isn't evil. Mantis knows evil, and she doesn't see it in Nebula.
She goes to the airlock when everyone else is busy, bringing two bottles of water. She stays carefully on the Milano's side of the door and waits until Nebula notices her.
"I brought you some water," she offers, holding up one of the bottles. "I thought you might be thirsty. May I come onto your ship?"
Nebula looks at her with an unreadable expression. "Why are you here?" she finally asks. "Did the others tell you to watch me?"
"No," Mantis replies. "Gamora told me that you were dangerous and that I should stay away from you."
"She's right," Nebula says.
"I know that you are dangerous," Mantis agrees, "but I don't think that you will hurt me."
For a moment, there's something like shock in Nebula's eyes. She turns away, going back to working on her fried engine. "You're a fool."
"I may be," Mantis agrees easily. "I do not have much experience being out in the galaxy. And I do not always understand people. But I do not think that you will hurt me." She eyes Nebula. "Will you?"
"Will you give me a reason to hurt you?" Nebula asks, still not looking up from her engine.
"I will try not to," Mantis promises.
"I will not hurt you for no reason," Nebula promises in return.
Mantis smiles. "I knew you were not as dangerous as Gamora said! Do you want the water I brought you?"
Nebula looks up at her, then sighs. "Fine. Bring me the water."
Mantis steps onto Nebula's ship, holding out one of the bottles of water. Nebula takes it and unscrews the top with a quick jerk of her prosthetic hand. She drinks the water quickly enough that Mantis thinks she must have been very thirsty indeed. When she finishes the bottle, Mantis hands her the second one without a word.
"There," Nebula says when she finishes the second one as well, tossing the empty bottles on the ground. "You've given me your water. Is that it?"
"I can help you fix your ship, if you want me to," Mantis offers, picking up both of the bottles and placing them just inside the Milano's airlock so she can wash them later. "I do not know much about mechanics, but Rocket has taught me some things, and I can hand you the tools that you need."
"I don't need help," Nebula scoffs. "I've always done repairs on my own."
"You don't have to do it alone now," Mantis says.
Nebula looks at her for a moment. Mantis expects to be told to leave, but instead, Nebula turns back to the engine. "We're not going to chat while we do this. If you're going to help, you're going to do it quietly."
"I can be quiet," Mantis promises. She has a lot of experience when it comes to being quiet. "What do you need?"
"I need the torque wrench," Nebula says. "It's in the box over there." She gestures at a toolbox a few feet away.
Mantis goes over to the toolbox and picks up the wrench. She hands it to Nebula, placing it in her waiting prosthetic palm. She has only ever touched Nebula's prosthetic, never her skin. She wonders what Nebula's emotions would feel like.
Mantis and Nebula fix the engine in silence, the only noises Nebula's requests for tools. It doesn't take too long to finish all the repairs. Nebula puts the panel back in place without a word.
"I can tell the others that you're ready to go," Mantis offers. "Gamora will want to say goodbye."
Nebula makes a dismissive noise. Mantis doesn't think it's a refusal, though, so she walks over to the airlock to leave the ship.
"Thank you," Nebula says gruffly. Mantis turns around, but Nebula won't meet her eyes. "For the water. And the help."
"I was happy to help," Mantis replies, smiling. Nebula still doesn't look up to see it. Mantis leaves the ship, picking up the bottles on her way out, and goes to the cockpit, where she finds Peter and Gamora.
"Nebula's ship is repaired," she reports. "She's ready to leave."
Peter and Gamora look at each other. "How do you know that?" Peter asks warily.
Mantis holds up the bottles. "I went to offer her some water. And then I helped her repair her engine."
Peter and Gamora share a somewhat more panicked look. "Mantis," Gamora says after a moment, "Nebula is dangerous. You don't know how to defend yourself yet…"
"Nebula has promised me that she won't hurt me for no reason," Mantis says. "I do not think she will break that promise."
The third look that Peter and Gamora share is shocked. Mantis wonders how much their conversations are based on simply looking at each other. She would think it to be a highly imperfect form of communication.
"Be careful," Peter finally says. "Nebula… She's hurt a lot of people."
"I will be careful," Mantis promises dutifully.
"I'll go say goodbye to her," Gamora says, slipping out of the room.
"I should go wash these," Mantis adds, holding up the bottles.
"Sounds good," Peter says, sounding a little distracted.
Mantis leaves the room and goes to the kitchen, where she washes and dries the two bottles. Nebula's ship detaches from the Milano as she's doing so, and Mantis realizes that she's looking forward to the next time Nebula shows up.
Mantis's favorite times were always when Ego was gone. Sometimes, she felt guilty over it - Ego only left to create or collect children - but she knew he would do it either way. Relishing the time alone didn't do anything to change why it happened, and not allowing herself to enjoy it wouldn't change anything.
She didn't need to worry when she was alone. She didn't need to lie. She didn't need to use herself as an emotional conduit that took the worst of a child's panic and replaced it with the closest thing to calm she could still feel.
She grew bored sometimes, she had to admit. At those times, she would pretend things were different. Sometimes, she would pretend that she was the mother to a child that she could love and protect. Sometimes, she would pretend that she had parents who had always been there for her. Whatever she decided to pretend, she would throw herself into it completely, almost hoping that it would be enough that she could forget about the real world around her. If she could be free of Ego, she would be free of him entirely, even in her thoughts.
She was never alone for long. Ego normally didn't leave for more than a few days. He would normally return with a new child, and the cycle would begin again. Mantis would calm the child, and Ego would begin the countdown until the day he killed them.
He brought back children of every species, but he never brought back any that were the same species as Mantis. She wasn't sure if she was grateful for that or not. She had no memories of her own people, but the thought of meeting one only for them to die five days later was painful.
Seeing children of other species dying after five days was painful too.
"Master?" she asked once, as she walked Ego to his ship to depart. "Why do you create so many children?"
"I must," Ego replied. "You know I need to find a child who carries my Celestial genes. Until one exists, I'll have to keep trying to make one."
"But why do you need a child who carries your Celestial genes?" Mantis asked.
Ego looked at her with an expression that, if she had to name, she would call fond amusement. It was better than anger, but it still wasn't what she was hoping for.
"Perhaps I'll tell you someday," Ego said, patting her head. "But you don't need to know yet."
"Do I have a place in your plan?" Mantis asked, hating herself for her selfishness even as the words came out of her mouth.
"Oh, Mantis," Ego sighed, cupping her face in one hand. "You know your importance, don't you? You put me to sleep. You will have a place in my plan for as long as I need your help."
It wasn't a real answer, but Mantis doubted she would get anything better. "I understand, Master."
"You don't need to worry," Ego said. "Keep doing your job, and nothing will happen to you."
What gives you the right to dictate my life like this? she almost wanted to ask, but she forced the words back down her throat. It would be suicide to ask Ego something like that. If she wanted a place in his plan - a place in his universe - she had to tread more carefully than that.
"Thank you, Master," she said instead, and she kept her mouth shut as Ego patted her cheek condescendingly, and as his ship took off into the sky, she hoped it would never come back.
She would be alone, but there were worse things than loneliness. Ego was one of them.
"Hey, Mantis, can you keep an eye on Groot while we go seal this deal?" Peter asks one day, when the ship is docked on Xandar.
"Mantis can come with us if she wants," Gamora scolds. "It's your turn to watch Groot, Peter."
"I do not mind staying with Groot," Mantis says. She has never been somewhere as busy as Xandar, and even with the new gloves Peter gave her to prevent accidental touches, she worries that the emotions surrounding her will be overwhelming. She would rather stay behind.
"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," Gamora says. "Peter can stay with Groot."
"I would rather stay," Mantis says. "If that is alright."
Gamora's expression softens a little. "It's your choice," she says. The Guardians have been saying that to Mantis a lot. They ask her to make decisions, and when she asks for their input, they tell her, "It's your choice." But she has never had to make choices like this before, and she's not sure whether or not she likes it yet.
But whenever the others say that, they stop second-guessing what Mantis says. "I choose to stay," she declares, and Gamora doesn't argue.
"Okay," she says instead. "We'll be quick."
"We're gonna be late if we don't go now," Rocket grumbles. "Can we move?"
Everyone files off the ship until only Mantis and Groot are remaining. "What do you want to do?" Mantis asks.
"I am Groot," Groot replies, wandering off. Mantis follows him to the common area, where he stretches to reach the dial for the sound system. A song starts to play, something about high mountains and low valleys and wide rivers. Groot starts to dance along. Mantis smiles as she sits and watches him.
Watching Groot is an easy way for her to help out on the ship, but sometimes it hurts a little. He's happy, and she's glad of it, but it reminds her of Ego's children. Perhaps they were happy before she met them, but they weren't after. For a moment, she imagines someone treating Groot the way Ego treated his children, and she wants to cry.
"I am Groot?" A small hand rests on Mantis's knee. Groot looks up at her with concern in his big eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side. "I am Groot?"
"I am alright," Mantis replies, patting Groot on the head lightly. "Just thinking. Do you want to keep dancing or do you want to do something else?"
"I am Groot!"
Mantis frowns. "What are cookies?"
Groot gapes at her. "I am Groot!"
"Do you have a recipe?" Mantis asks. "We can try to make them."
"I am Groot," Groot replies smugly. He grabs her hand and climbs onto her shoulder, then tugs lightly on her hair. "I am Groot!"
Mantis laughs. "I am going!"
They head to the kitchen, where Groot jumps off her shoulder and turns on the tablet on the table. He taps at the screen, a little frown on his face, then his face lights up and he tugs on Mantis's finger.
"I am Groot! I am Groot!"
"I see it," Mantis says, smiling. "Let me see if we have all the ingredients."
Luckily, they do have all the things they need for cookies. Groot insists on helping, although he makes a mess more than anything else. With a lot of work on Mantis's part, they end up making a batch of cookies, which are just coming out of the oven when the others come back.
"Are those cookies?" Peter yells. Mantis can hear him heading towards the kitchen.
"Groot wanted to make them," she replies, setting the tray down. "Is that alright?"
"I am Groot!" Groot adds, tugging on Peter's pant leg.
"You've never had cookies?" Peter asks Mantis. "That is a tragedy."
"You should try them," Drax says. "They are very pleasing."
"Not yet, though," Peter adds quickly. "They're still too hot. We need to let them cool."
"Cookies?" Gamora asks as she enters the kitchen, picking one up and taking a bite. "They're good. Did you make them, Mantis?"
"I thought you said they were too hot," Mantis says, looking to Peter in confusion.
"I'm pretty sure Gamora can't feel temperature," Peter replies, waving a hand in dismissal. "She does this all the time. They're too hot for anyone who doesn't have Gamora's crazy mouth."
"I am Groot," Groot tells Gamora conspiratorially.
"You haven't had cookies?" Gamora asks Mantis.
"No," Mantis admits. "Is that very strange?"
"I had never had cookies before I met Peter," Gamora replies.
"Yeah, cause both of you had asshole dads who treated you like shit," Rocket says as he enters the kitchen.
Mantis frowns. "I do not know who my father is."
"He is referring to Ego," Drax tells her.
Mantis's frown deepens. "I am not one of Ego's children."
"He's being a dick, is what he is," Peter says, glaring at Rocket. "Ignore him."
"It's not like I'm wrong," Rocket grumbles, but he doesn't say anything else.
"Here," Peter says, holding out a cookie to Mantis. "They should be cooled enough. And burning your mouth on fresh cookies is kinda part of the experience. Try it."
Mantis looks down at the cookie, then she takes a very tentative nibble.
"I am Groot?" Groot demands eagerly.
"It's delicious," Mantis says, taking another bite.
"Everyone likes cookies," Peter says, eating a cookie of his own. "It's science."
Mantis wonders if Nebula has ever had a cookie, but she doesn't ask. She's noticed that the others can be a little strange about her asking questions about Nebula. Gamora is the only one who really seems to willing to talk about her, and she never seems to understand why Mantis wants to do so. Mantis has stopped trying.
"It's delicious," Mantis repeats as she finishes the cookie. She gives Peter a little bow. "Thank you for letting me have one."
"Hey, you made them," Peter says.
"I am Groot!"
"Okay, you and Groot made them. You can have as many as you want."
Mantis looks around at the others, just to be sure, then she picks up another cookie and takes a careful bite. It's just as delicious as the first. I made this, she thinks as she eats the cookie. And as she looks around at the happiness around her that the cookies have brought, she can't help but think, I made this too.