Free, on my own is the way I used to be
Ah, but since I met you baby, love's got a hold on me
- Lyrics from Fooled Around and Fell in Love
Chapter Three: Jealosy
En route to Asteria-III (from Kyrnstok Station VII)
A dust cloud's abstract pattern swirls above, producing a breathtaking backdrop against Gamora's equally striking silhouette. While my rods and cones adjust to a range of soothing blues set against brilliant shocks of orange matter, it's the small dark humanoid form that that commands my attention. Gamora is brooding, her body language says as much. Her sword rests against the railing as she methodically angles a stone against the menacing blade. Her head tilts left in concentration. It's more meditation than rote chore. Dare I interrupt?
I must. I've been waiting for a calm respite like this since I first laid eyes on Gamora outside the Broker's trading post on Xandar. The universe is finally gifting me the time and space where I can speak to her alone. It's my golden opportunity to confirm that the connection I feel for her is real, and if I'm lucky, reciprocated.
She's the one.
As I amble towards her, she doesn't look away from her disciplined task, but rather, mumbles something I can't quite make out. It might be something about swords, people without character, or anything that has to do with heartache, suffering, and powerlessness: the subjects of which she knows far too well.
I'm drifting closer, buoyed by the fact that she hasn't swiped at me for getting into her personal space. I'll settle for anything, an acknowledgement, shared laughter, or a glimpse into her hauntingly dark, but beautiful (like a Terran deer) eyes.
And as if the universe can read my prayers, Gamora lowers her sword and turns towards me. I implore the universe for telepathic powers, aggressively willing her to meet my gaze. But instead of my eyes, she's looking down at my ...… and soon her hands follow.
My breath hitches as she reaches for my belt buckle. Now I have deer eyes, i.e., a deer in the headlights. Is she going to touch me? Her fingers are dexterous and only linger for a second on my waistband before she unclips my Walkman and mumbles words that might be a question. Instead of responding, I place my headphones over her ears and dare to look into the dark pools of her eyes, an action that is momentarily safe as the sound waves overpower her sight. I cautiously try to read her reaction as the music flows from the metal box to the earbuds. It's an intensely private moment, and I thrill as she slowly relaxes and visibly releases into the beat.
She's the one.
My right hand makes the first move, extending forward in hopes of contact, I hover centimeters away, close enough that I can feel the heat from her body. As she sways to the music, the universe smiles on me again, and her hip bumps into my waiting hand.
When she doesn't react negatively, I allow my left hand to move into position, fingers gently brushing the back of her right hand. Still no reaction? My left hand gently closes around hers. I'm struck by their size, small but strong. And now I'm so close, so close that I can actually feel her breath on my chin. She sways slowly as my right hand gently molds around the ridge of her pelvic bone. I'm elated. Now we're molecules away, and I'm going numb as my brain redirects blood down past my navel. I can hear mom's music muffled through the ear buds. I close my eyelids in anticipation. Coaxing Gamora with my thoughts: lean in, lean into me.
FOOLISH MORTAL. THANOS' CHILD IS NOT MEANT FOR A PATHETIC HALF-BREED THIEF. DIE DISHONORABLE WRETCH!
I'm frozen still. Painfully unable to will my body into a desirable action that involves tackling Gamora to the ground with just enough time so that I can save the both of us from the lethal jet of purple light that blasts towards the back of her head. After impact, Gamora takes the brunt, and I'm reduced to a blubbering idiot, tears swell in my eyes as I do everything I can to revive her lifeless body.
"It's okay. It's okay." A hand repeatedly strokes my shoulder. I jolt violently upright before I'm able to gather my thoughts.
"Huh?"
"You're going to be okay, Quill."
Drax's piercing blue eyes boot me into reality, "You've just had a bad dream."
I'm speechless. Drax is less than a foot away from me in my personal quarters. He's, he's ….
"When my little Kamaria had bad dreams, I would often sing to her. Would you like me to sing to you?"
"No. No. No. Uh, thank you, no. I'm okay. I'm, yeah….uh, bad dream."
"What did you dream, companion?"
"I don't remember," I lie. "But I guess it's a good time to get up and see if I can't convince you 'morning beings' to change course."
"But why would we do that?"
"'Something good, Something bad?'" I draw up the blankets and arrange the pillow, simultaneously irritated and amused when Drax doesn't read my not so subtle body language that he should leave my space so I can straighten up for the day.
"Look, Drax, after I'm properly attired, I'll bring up the course change with everyone. It's just that, well," I pause to reflect what I can say that might give Drax just enough insight into my train of thought, "It's that I had something different in mind in regard to a 'bit of both.' Why? Because we just saved the galaxy. And then during a routine pit stop, you and Gamora find the first sad story you run into, and boom, we're off like the A-team."
"The A-team?"
"Yeah, the A-team."
Drax squints, as if by doing so, he might process the meaningless words I've carelessly tossed in his direction. He feigns irritation, crossing his arms while waiting patiently for an explanation. Dammit, this bro is not going to leave until he gets some clarification.
"Okay. On my planet, the A-team is also a legendary gang of five," I pause, considering how much I'm going to need to simplify this tale for Drax, "and just like the Guardians, The A-Team was known for always saving the day, except they didn't have their records expunged."
"They were fugitives?"
"Yes. But they were always taking on these really sad stories. The thing is, every single time they did so, this kind of altruistic action consistently threatened to put them back in custody. Yes, they were legendary heroes with honorable intentions, like the Guardians. However, and here is the clincher, they were always tackling 'something good.' And we just did something incredibly good, right? So now it's time to balance out our karma."
"Karma?"
Since there is no way Drax is moving until I answer all his questions, I give up and start throwing on a new shirt and fresh pair of pants. I guess underwear will need to wait until a later date. Either way, I'm starting to feel a little frustrated about not having been there to make the decision with Gamora in the first place. Now this is Drax and Gamora's gig. And yeah, I know it's dick-ish, but I'm jealous. It's imperative that I make up for my idiot mistake on Knowhere. And as usual, this new adventure isn't going as planned.
But on second thought, perhaps I don't want to bring up 'changing course' with the crew. My priority is to regain Gamora's trust. And this time, I want to be the one who is altruistic from the beginning. And that means being more of a leader like Hannibal versus the Faceman. Celestials know, I've been the Faceman for far too long.
Next up? Chapter Four: TBD
