Disclaimer: I don't own Guardians of the Galaxy.
Summary: The absence of her is unnerving. RonanGamora, oneshot
I...honestly don't know what this is. I just wanted to write something else for this fandom and this came out. I think the dynamic between these two would be very interesting to explore in fic, so this was the result. It's just a little ficlet, but I hope that y'all enjoy this piece of mine, because it was certainly a very new experience in writing!
Afterimage
Ronan the Accuser stands solitary, stolid, stern.
There is much to do, and yet not enough time to accomplish it. He supposes it makes no matter, that things will fall perfectly into place as soon as he wills it. The anticipation of that moment curls within him, charging his blood, igniting each and every nerve with purpose.
He feels alive.
However, the vigor with which he feels this emotion is overrun by his cool exterior - masked expression, curt words, complete and utter disregard for anyone who crosses his path. Including his subordinates. He must keep this façade, or else people will figure they can manipulate him. Which that, of course, is not the case.
He closes his eyes, forcing himself into a peaceful state, thinking about the many, many things that he must accomplish in the time that he has been given. His fingers curl and uncurl, and he can hear the slight cracking of his joints as he does so.
Unbidden, a flash of green sparks behind his eyelids.
Ronan does not gasp and open his eyes, as he had seen so many others do in such a situation. He inhales calmly, as if nothing had caught him off guard, and continues to meditate.
The responding image of dark hair greets him.
In, out, go his breaths. In, out.
Slowly, he opens his eyes, forcing a sense of calm to take over his body. He relaxes each joint one by one, flexing his fingers and his neck and his spine. He imagine the fluidity of the human skeleton and tries to focus on that and that alone.
And, suddenly, he sees her - not just a flash of hair or an expanse of flesh, but her in all of her glory - twirling through he air, nothing but languid muscle. Silent and deadly and efficient. Eyes like a predatory cat's, movements as fluid as water. Her voice calm and collected, always speaking to him in such clinical terms. Always effectively making him take notice. He had never realized just how much of an effect she had on him until she was gone and the residual feeling of her presence was all he had left.
He supposes this is the curse of knowing her.
He supposes this is the curse of losing her.
Ronan thinks of her betrayal, feels the anger of it all surge through him, strengthening him physically as well as mentally. His resolve is stone, nothing could sway him, not even the most pitiful of cries. This is how it has always been, this is how it always will be. Not even the most intriguing of creatures could change that.
Not even Gamora.
End.