One

Mantis

I am an empath. Quite simply the word itself and nothing else beyond it. My full purpose since my larva state has resounded amidst this word. The emotions come in waves each morning and each night, and sometimes I find it difficult to decipher if they are my own or someone else's. You see, being an empath is like being in the eye of a hurricane. I see all the disaster and waste that comes from people's thoughts and feelings, and sometimes I get rained on too. I watch those things swirling around and around and sometimes I get wet. And the rain is on my arms and in my eyes, I can't tell if it comes from my own eyes or someone else's.

I am aware this sounds dramatic. And it is dramatic to feel the tug of war within humans and aliens and gods alike. And now, despite the rest of my life, I am overwhelmed. I have never felt so much. I have never witnessed the presence of so many people. Even two is much. Even one.

In my early childhood, Ego took the time to show me how a person thought about things. He told me, "this is happiness." "This is sadness." "This is love." I never really saw those things in him, but he had described them. He told me stories often of people, and I would do my best to point out how those characters felt. I was so young when he told me stories, playing them in his makeshift cinema.

"Is he happy?" I asked about one character.

"He is," Ego told me.

But now, in the presence of real people, I realize that he was not. Not happy, that is.

And neither was I. Never had been. Never knew I wasn't until I became happy.

I am glad to have found friends. Drax, in particular, has made my heart happy, in a way that results in my stomach hurting in a good way. Laughter, I suppose, is the source of our connection. Drax, though lonely often, does not run out of comedy. And its crude, I guess, if crude is a bad thing. I don't know why it would be. And he appreciates my acceptance of that.

"For someone who feels so much, you aren't all that sensitive."

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. "I call you ugly and you laugh."

I don't understand why ugly would be bad, and if so, what is it? What makes someone ugly? I clear my throat, only to make my point stand. "I am glad to be ugly." Because I know Drax is right. Someday, if I am loved, I will be loved for real. And even if I am not loved, because I am too ugly, it doesn't matter. I have Drax. I have me.

"Girls don't like to be called ugly, most of the time."

"Why not? They should take it as a compliment."

He laughs at me again and I find myself smiling awkwardly because I think I should feel like I'm wrong about this. Back when Gamora was alive, she had always made a point to reassure me that I wasn't. Somehow, I guess she thought I needed that reassurance as it mattered to me. Though I never argued or questioned why or how I wasn't ugly, I hadn't cared quite enough but I thought I would take it from someone who I would define, based off the standards I've heard, as someone beautiful.

Speaking of which, I found there was nothing more beautiful and terrible than the feeling of a quiet space shuttle. The Milano was noiseless. Quill, who I would only ever describe as outrageously fun, hadn't played a single song since Gamora died. And this was far out of the ordinary. Unnerving mostly. The only sounds reminiscent of before is the quiet bickering of Quill and Rocket, the now lower voice of Groot from time to time, and Drax's laughter. And it's sad because even Drax's laughter is lower. Quieter.

I had described it as sad, but also beautiful. Though I don't find any of it good, there is beauty in the stillness. In the togetherness. Don't get me wrong, I can feel rage and sorrow all throughout the room. It is my gift as well as my curse. But it is a beautiful curse to know. To feel. The aesthetic of the moment. The pulse of my companions. I can feel it, even without my hands on them, I can feel their voices crying and singing and being. It is beautiful, though very sad.

Quill says we need change and I think that's good. Our new friend Thor had come to see us a few weeks ago, as nothing more than a visit, which was good since the first time we met was so grim. Even now, it is grim and that is because we lost Gamora.

He lost things too though. Despite finding a loophole and saving his brother, he hadn't found a way to save all of Asgard. And with that, his good friend Heimdall. I saw the rage in his eyes the second he boarded the Milano then, though it had softened now that his brother, Loki, was alive and well. I, within the split second I made physical contact with him, found the source of his rage did no go against the universe or Thanos or anyone but himself. He truly saw himself as a failed king. It was devastating.

Even then, with the liveliness that was Thor, despite everything, the entire universe was tainted. Quieter. Thor had noted this somewhere during the conversation, promising it would end.

"How?" Quill asked.

The God smiled slightly, soberly. "Because I'm accepting your offer, Quill."

About everyone on board the ship looked up in confusion, not knowing what they had offered the God of Thunder. It was clear the Quill had used a royal we in his conversation with Thor, which truly, was like him to do.

Quill then explained that he offered an invitation to Thor, along with whoever he needed to bring with him, to join them on the Milano. This was news the everyone, though, it wasn't completely rejected. Rocket was the first to have a problem with it, which surprised no one. What I found spectacularly surprising was that Quill had given the invitation, despite the way he had acted in the presence of Thor the first time.

"They'll lock my brother up if we stay on earth. Apparently, Midgardians aren't as forgiving as the people of Asgard were. It may be wise of them, though."

That was guilt, I could tell. His brother may be his brother, but he had been part of Asgard's destruction. What was troubling was that Thor didn't blame Loki for that nearly as much as he had himself.

Rocket had the audacity to ask if Loki's presence would result of all of our death's, which Thor only responded to with a small smile. "I'd like to hope he has changed."

"I'd like to hope you're right."

Though Rocket's personality was often cruel, it was just as much soft. He wasn't trying to reach a sore spot with Thor just for kicks. It was only his nature to point things out. To question. And more than that, he wasn't a fan of new people. He needed to cover all his bases to be sure things wouldn't end like it had with Gamora. Rocket, despite his reputation, was incredibly protective of his crew.

"Loki will behave himself. I have learned to predict his movements."

"Like you did with the Tesseract?" Rocket asked.

Thor looked down, trying to answer the raccoon effectively. "I can't say I was surprised."

Rocket sighed loudly. Obnoxiously. It was intentional, only to be dramatic. "Can't be any worse than Nebula."

Coming out from behind the shadow, where she had been perched, Nebula sighed. "I'm offended," she said dryly, not at all offended.

"I'll also be bringing my friend Brunnhilde. We mostly call her Valkyrie."

"Absolutely wonderful," Rocket noted sarcastically.

Thor exchanged a grin with him.

Clearly, our little family was about to get more crowded, which made me a bit uneasy. New people did that to me sometimes, just as my current crew had at first. It was just with my powers, I couldn't just meet new people. I had to learn them. Know them. Without touching them, I could see worlds in their eyes. I could feel worlds in their eyes. And each person, no matter the species, was complex. Drax was nothing like Quill. Nebula was nothing like Gamora. I was nothing like Groot. And these new people, Thor included, would likely be nothing like me. I was excited to learn these people but afraid I didn't want to.

Nebula had scared me at first, though not as much as Ego. She was at first glance cold. Her thoughts seemed just as mechanical as most of her body. It scared me quite a bit, to see a brain overload in such a way. But I learned quickly that her robotic nature was routine. Her coldness was grief. I learned that with certainty after Gamora's death. Now I found a few of her soft spots, though sometimes they were small. Sometimes it would be her thinking about things when she thought she was alone. Sometimes it would be the dull half smile she gave as she looked at something beautiful in space. And sometimes it would be the silent acceptance she had given when they had told her she could stay with them. Sadly though, to myself who wanted to learn more about her colors, she had left. She had become good friends with a man named Tony Stark who had promised to help her find more suitable technology that would make her feel more human. After much thought and argument over the phone with him, she had agreed. And though she said she would return, we all knew she wouldn't.

But it took time to figure her out, and likely, it would take time to figure out these new faces. I won't deny the terror of that, knowing I was often easily overwhelmed by the emotions they would bring. Knowing so much about people hurt quite a bit and the more people present, the worse it felt. But with that, excitement prevailed. I was thrilled to know more about Thor. I was delighted to meet Loki and Brunnhilde.

I wasn't entirely sure what to think when the group first arrived. Thor did most of the talking, while Valkyrie chimed in from time to time, adding on to whatever her friend was saying. And Loki seemed a bit quiet, though something about his eyes screamed that it wasn't really his nature. Not anymore.

What convinced me that this was a turn for the better was what had happened a few hours later, when Thor was sitting beside Quill in the cockpit, talking about some of the things he had learned during his few months on earth.

"I was introduced to this music group by the name of Led Zeppelin. A bit of an acquired taste, I think."

"Not really," Quill said, sighing. "I can play some if you want."

And that was when things changed. Not completely, of course. The music wasn't as common as it used to be, and often, the songs Quill would choose weren't as positive as they once were, but the point was that he was playing music again. And I could only thank Thor for that one.

'Stairway to Heaven' was blasting through the ship's speakers as I fell asleep that first night, wrapped up in the blanket Drax had dug up for me the first time I stayed on the Milano. It was ugly and green and yellow and worn out, but it was soft, and it smelled like my friends. Now I couldn't sleep without it.

I remember very distinctly, falling asleep to this song, with Quill humming softly and Thor listening with quiet delight. Rocket and Brunnhilde shared a drink toward the back, with Loki watching them with disinterest, with his finger in the crease of the book he was reading. Drax had crashed in his seat and Groot was playing a game on his device. And I, I was at peace, knowing that these new friends would, if nothing else, at least be memorable.

When will I feel this

As vivid as it truly is,

Fall in love in a single touch,

And fall apart when it hurts too much?

I was really, really debating whether I should post this or not, simply cause I'm only a few chapters in with my writing. However, I feel strongly about this story and I hope you can enjoy it. As always, your reviews are always welcomed as well as your constructive criticism. Hearing from all of you is so motivating.

Jenna