Guardians of the Galaxy
One Shot: Dimensional
Word Count: 671
Thanos had destroyed her home planet; he acts smug when she questions why he did it. He mocked her then, she wasn't of importance to him and she knew it for a fact. Thanos was a being incapable of emotion. He ruined the lives of many, crushed any piece of hope anyone had left, leaving a permanent mark that would never erase itself from existence. She was grateful for choosing to be selective of this memory even though it couldn't happen. Gamora would always have to come back to it if someone asked, which was unnecessary, but she gave off a scent of dignity.
Most felt compelled to remind her that her alliance with Ronan the Accuser was one of deceit. It made sense for those who didn't know who she was (or didn't care) to want to kill her. They couldn't understand how she worked. She wasn't involved in any of the plans Thanos and Rohan produced. Gamora insisted that she was innocent.
Nobody thought she was.
Prices had been put on her the moment she was arrested. Other prisoners assaulted her, she was just deeply hated and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't fight back. It's not that she didn't want to, rather the odds weren't in her favor, never. People wouldn't miss her if she was gone. Gamora was sure of it, that no one cared enough to stop whoever it was that was attempting to end her life.
Except Peter.
He'd been willing to defend her even though there was no relationship between them. They knew it was there, invisible, barely spoken about. It wasn't going to change her mind, that one action Peter himself did, for it was out of pity that he did it. He saw her facial expression, plain, bland. Her eyes were focusing on the ceiling above her, her mind racing while trying to figure what was going on.
She had no friends so why was he defending her?
It came up startlingly at first until she realized what it was. The money? Was it the money? No, that's not right, it can't be, and Gamora wondered why she gave herself a headache thinking about him. She didn't want to face the reality, even if she was regaining her breath after having a knife held at her throat. It was kindness.
Gamora hadn't felt it in a long time.
She didn't know why it was so foreign to her. It all came rushing to her head as she recalled fond memories of her childhood. Her parents were sweet, kind, loving. She opened her eyes, Peter crouching down next to her, his hand extended to touch her face, but she jumped back away from him.
"What are you doing?"
Peter blinked a couple of times before glancing back at Rocket who told him to hurry up. "I saved your life."
He waited for a response but it never came,"What? Not a single thank you?"
She replied harshly,"I shouldn't have to give a sincere thanks each time you want the spotlight on you." Gamora got up and walked away from them. 'He's selfish', she thought.
And she regretted it too.
In some other world, she would have been a better person, not a hardshell of an alien woman that's had so many chances to escape from her new life. It didn't scare her off, the thought of being dead. Near death experiences were a casualty to her, a game that would end brutally.
Instead, as she floated peacefully in this galaxy, knowing full well that death was a close friend of hers because she knows she should have died a long time ago, all she could think about in her final moments was she'd been through hell.
Until she breathed again and painfully noted it was Peter's smell. He saved her.
And doesn't remember thanking him.