Gratuitous Peter whump in this one! Sorry not sorry.
Also, the first half of this chap was inspired by an amazing Clintasha fic I read way back after the first Avengers came out...which of course I can't find or remember right now...but major shout-out to that author for the inspiration!
And thanks so much to Frida521, Aerilon, and Guest for your reviews last chapter!
Three
"Gamora, c'mon."
She can't even look at him right now.
She'd rather be anywhere else at the moment, than sitting in the few inches of space on one of the bunks on the main deck of the Milano that are not currently taken up by Peter. She's so mad that she moves further away every time his leg brushes against her because she can't even stand to touch him.
The fact that he's left her so little room is an indication of how weak he currently is. He's lying with his head on his rolled up leather jacket, and Drax is kneeling next to him, trying to dress the bleeding wound on his chest, but he's not making it easy. He keeps trying to sit up, because Gamora is ignoring him, isn't speaking to him right now, because the words are quite literally caught in her throat.
She doesn't remember the last time she was this angry.
There's a lot to be said for the fact that she isn't the one patching his wound currently, because that's usually her job, but she couldn't stop the shaking of her hands, and Drax had gently urged her to let him take over.
Gamora can only hope that in Peter's current state of pain and blood loss he hasn't noticed.
She's better than this. She has to be.
"Gamora!"
He knows she can hear him perfectly well, but he just keeps saying her name louder, like she's going to start speaking to him again just to shut him up. It's worked in the past, honestly, but it won't work this time.
Sitting here, still and silent, is her effort to keep herself together until she can get off this ship because she will not let him see her scared. She doesn't want him to know she's scared...she only wants him to see her anger.
Then she feels a hand on her shoulder and whips her head around.
He has managed to sit up, despite the best efforts of an obviously disapproving and concerned looking Drax, and the hand on her shoulder is partly a means to get her attention and partly a necessary measure to hold himself upright. Gamora feels a terrible urge to pull him into her arms and hold him close, but fiercely shoves it back down.
Peter is pale from blood loss, his movements visibly shaky, and her heart involuntarily clenches because she hates when he's hurt, and he is somehow the most resilient out of all of them (half-Terran or not). The shaking is awful and she doesn't want to look at it, doesn't want to see him like this.
It's only been a few weeks since Ego, and everything is still too raw, too vulnerable, and Gamora hates that she no longer has control over her emotions...especially when it comes to him.
The unspoken thing between them is spoken now, and they are still navigating the new territory between them slowly, carefully, as they figure out exactly what that means.
Gamora just didn't expect it to mean how suddenly and painfully aware she is of how mortal Peter is now, the half celestial part of him all but gone.
Realizing she almost lost him again today is more than she can take. Attachment means weakness echoes in the back of her mind, parts of her training from years under Thanos that she still can't quite drown out.
It is all she can do to mask her fear behind anger, otherwise she might finally crack and break.
She feels another squeeze of her shoulder, and looks at him again, her expression stony, or at least she hopes it is. Despite the fact that his eyes are glassy and filled with pain, he's focused directly on her.
"I'm not going to say I'm sorry," he says hoarsely, weak but still stupidly defiant. She could kill him for it, for making her feel this way.
"I don't care what you say," she snaps back, although she does want a sorry, and some sort of promise that would mean he's not planning on doing this again in the future. Her voice is tight with fury. She shrugs his hand off her shoulder, looking away from him. She glares at Drax, growling unfairly, "Can't you make him sit still?"
"I do not wish to cause him further harm," Drax replies simply, but his brow is furrowed in concern as he looks over at Peter. "However, trying to control Quill without using brute force is an impossible feat." He's not wrong.
"That's right, because no one can control me," Peter agrees, some of his normal cockiness back in his tone. His eyes are boring into hers when she turns back to face him again, and she knows he's not just talking about the here and now. Images of him taking control of his newly discovered celestial power and fighting back against Ego while they all struggled to escape flash across her mind, and she swallows thickly to regain some semblance of control.
Damn him.
"Learning's one of my issues, remember?" Peter attempts to joke for a moment of levity between them. An unmistakable smirk turns up at the corners of his mouth, even though he's in obvious pain, and it only serves to anger her even more.
"So you're still a damn fool, but at least nobody can control you," she says, and to her horror her voice cracks, and she has to get away before she falls apart. She angrily jumps up off of the bunk and strides off towards the cockpit, unable to stand another minute of him trying to get her to think this is okay, that it's perfectly reasonable for him to throw himself in front of a blaster hit meant for her.
She climbs up the ladder to find Rocket piloting the Milano, Groot sitting on his shoulder offering company and assistance. Luckily Rocket makes a great secondary pilot when Peter is incapacitated (which unfortunately is more often than not). At the sound of her purposed footsteps, Rocket turns his head and raises his furry eyebrows. "How's Captain Moron doing?"
"He's alright enough to make me want to strangle him, so I would say he's fine," she says shortly, gritting her teeth.
Groot turns then to look at her, his expression clearly concerned, his little voice feeling like a hammer against her already shot nerves. "I am Groot."
Rocket shoots the tiny tree a sideways glance. "So what if Quill just wanted to protect her? D'ast idiot almost got himself killed."
"Protect me?" Gamora scoffs at this. "I don't need his protection, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. It is not his duty to protect me."
"Yeah, trying tellin' him that," Rocket grumbles under his breath, even though he knows Gamora can hear him perfectly well.
He sighs then, looking carefully back at her. "Like it or not, Gamora, Quill obviously cares about you..."
"He cares about all of us," Gamora cuts him off, voice sharp. She can't do this. She can't go down this road right now, when her emotions are so precariously close to the surface.
Rocket gives her an incredulous look, as if everything should be that clear cut to understand. "But it's different between you two, and you know it. We all do. You two might think yer not being obvious, but trust me when I say, you ain't."
"What's your point?" Gamora bites back, crossing her arms, and if her voice wavers a little bit, then Rocket and Groot choose not to comment on it. Groot just blinks up with her with wide eyes, still too young to fully grasp the conversation but aware enough to know what Rocket is referring to.
"My point is," Rocket says with another tired sigh, the weight of worrying about Peter heavy on all of them, "Quill is the reason we started this little rag-tag team to begin with, and in a move of complete insanity, we decided to make him our leader. That sorta makes him responsible for all us, even if he is mostly just a humie. So you can't act surprised when he does somethin' stupid—which is like a daily occurrence with him, I know—and risks his life to save one of ours."
He pauses, eyeing her carefully. "Especially yours."
Gamora clenches her fists tight at her side, hating Rocket for preaching to her and hating him even more for being right. Her voice is cool and harsh when she replies, effectively ending the conversation.
"Just fly the ship, Rocket."
It's not fair.
Before Peter, she never had to worry about anyone but herself and her own survival (and sometimes Nebula's too she has now realized later), and she just lived one day to the next, trying to stay alive and trying to please Thanos in order to avoid some barbaric form of torture that he would claim was love.
But ever since Peter Quill and the other Guardians have come quite literally blasting into her life, she has a reason to look forward to each day, to know what happiness feels like, to enjoy the little things that she had never been much concerned about or been able to care about before.
She has a purpose, a mission in life now, to do good and not evil, to help and not hurt, and for the first time since she was just a girl...to care.
Being with the Guardians makes her more than she ever thought she'd be.
And Peter makes her human.
It's so many things, since they've all been staying in the Milano and started this whole 'Guardians of the Galaxy' thing. It's the late nights met on the cockpit where neither of them could sleep from nightmares neither of them wanted to talk about, just comforting each other with companionship and silence, and more recently, sharing little details about their pasts (the good parts). It's the way he shares his headphones and his music with her, how his face lights up with joy when she enjoys one of the new songs from the Zune. It's even the way he has taught her to dance, the way it feels to be in his arms to the gentle sway of the Terran music he loves. Peter brings her normalcy, this feeling of having a family, which is something that Gamora has never truly had (Thanos was never her family, as far as she's concerned). And now that everything, their feelings towards each other are out in the open now, Gamora feels like she finally knows, for the first time in her life what it is to feel safe, and truly cared for, and yes...loved.
Neither of them have voiced it yet, not in so many words, although it's obvious in the way Peter looks at her, and in the way that the thought of loving someone this way absolutely terrifies her, because she has never had this before, and she is even more terrified of losing it.
And then he goes and jumps in front of a plasma blaster for her and she has never been more afraid of anything in her entire life.
This isn't the first time Peter's been shot, but this is the first time he's done it on purpose.
It was supposed to be a simple mission – and really, aren't they all — just a surveillance mission for Nova Corps on one of their officers, who they had suspected of selling internal secrets to some less than honorable individuals on Knowhere. It seemed relatively easy and paid well to not be risking life and limb for once, so Peter readily agreed. But surveillance meant stealth, which definitely meant not taking all of the Guardians on this particular mission, (especially Drax), so he immediately asked Gamora to go with him.
Really, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather spend this mission with. Things were finally spoken between them, and although they were still taking it slow—they hadn't even kissed yet—he found himself wanting to spend every waking minute with her more than he already had.
He was turning into some sort of a sap, and he knew it, but he found he was caring about that less and less.
Gamora was worth it for him. She was worth everything.
For once, Peter didn't care that it was a relatively boring mission—supposedly just surveillance and reporting back, unless they caught something suspicious — they'd been sitting on the Milano ever since the aftermath of Ego, waiting for a new mission, a distraction really, from everything they'd been through. As nice as it was to have some time off, all of them were getting restless, ready for the next mission to blow off some steam.
So when Dey called and asked him if they wanted to take a simpler mission, watching their suspected officer to see if he was indeed interacting with some intergalactic lowlifes on Knowhere, he jumped on it. He immediately chose to take Gamora, over the others, and not just because she is a master assassin, but because he always has more fun with her, and it always feels less like work with her...and he'd be lying if he wasn't hoping for a little alone time with her. With all of them living on the ship, including Mantis now, moments for privacy were few and far between.
They spent the day on Knowhere, doing their best to blend in casually with the crowds. Fortunately, it seemed like no one recognized them here or no one cared at least, which aided their tailing of the Nova officer in question without drawing too much attention.
And it was a relatively boring mission, the officer not doing anything out of the ordinary, although he looked decidedly nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder as he walked the streets, but somehow never noticing Peter or Gamora.
He stopped at a couple booths along the streets, and in a couple of seedy bars, but still never interacted with anyone beyond buying a drink at one of the bars.
It was boring, but it was nice, for once, to have a mission with Gamora where they weren't constantly tense, worrying over their next move or running for their lives every second.
Besides, Gamora was a master at stealth, and all Peter needed to do was follow her lead, turning away or falling back when she instructed him to, so that the officer didn't catch sight of them and run.
All the while, he just enjoyed her company, just being able to be the two of them for once. They kept up an easy conversation between them, and he even made her laugh a few times, although she would slap his arm gently in reprimand to not draw more attention to them, and it was just nice being with her.
It was an easy mission, really.
Of course, it was right after that that everything went to hell.
All of a sudden, after the last booth along a particularly shady street near the outskirts of the main city, the officer quickly dipped into an alley, breaking into a fast and obviously panicked run.
The jig was up.
Their orders from Nova Corps were clear—if he did anything suspicious, anything at all—bring him in. Peter and Gamora instantly met eyes, both drawing their weapons simultaneously. They couldn't let him get away.
"I'll follow this a-hole," Peter gave her a sharp nod, gesturing with his blaster, "and you go to the right and stop him at the other end. Easy."
"Done," Gamora replied briskly, all business now, but he could see the glint of excitement in her eyes, knowing the same was reflected in his own.
They were becoming more of a fine-tuned team with each mission, every job, and the excitement of how good they worked together still hadn't worn off.
With that, Peter turned sharply down the alley in a dead run after their target, knowing Gamora would be fast enough to go right around the building and cut around to the other side of the alley before the officer could even get to the other end. The officer had a good headstart on him, so he wouldn't be surprised if Gamora made it around to the other side of the alley and stopped the guy before he could even catch up.
It should have been an easy pick-up with a non-threatening target.
Peter had thought that the corrupt Nova officer would be scared of his guns and Gamora's knives and their respective somewhat intimidating presences — okay, mostly Gamora's — but he'd honestly thought that violence wouldn't be necessary, that they'd just be able to take this guy in without much of a fight.
He hadn't expected the Nova officer to have backup, or be more prepared than he had let on.
Peter realized, as he chased him deeper into the alley, that he was clutching something in his left hand—and that something was a communicator.
That asshole was calling for help.
Peter's heart clenched with dread as he realized that he and Gamora had walked right into a trap, letting their guard down, thinking this mission was supposed to be simple, easy even...
But they could never just have that kind of luck.
Now they were cornered in a small, dark alley, and Peter had a sinking feeling they were about to be surrounded.
At that exact moment, Gamora emerged at the other end, directly in front of the officer, Godslayer already drawn, not even appearing out of breath.
The officer skidded to a stop in front of her, eyes wide, throwing up his hands in surrender.
Peter ran faster, his lungs burning now, trying to catch up with them. Gamora hadn't seen the communicator, and he still needed to warn her that they might have company.
"Stop!" Gamora commanded the officer, face stony. "Come with us without a fight, and we won't hurt you."
The officer had the gall to look scared for a moment, looking back at Peter still running towards them, before slowly backing up so his back hit a rusted metal door in the side of one of the buildings that opened out into the alley.
Then a snide grin spread smoothly across his face as the door suddenly swung open behind him. "I don't think so."
Peter ran even faster as he saw at least ten large Sakaarans emerge from the door and into the alley, each heavily armed and loaded.
Gamora instantly went into fight mode, realizing they were outnumbered, body tensing as she held her sword out in front of her, eyeing their new enemy with contempt. "This doesn't have to end violently."
"Oh, yes it does," the officer shot back, his voice cold and harsh, and it was hard to see how he ever fit into the Nova Corps. He turned to his allies behind them, tone impassive as he gave the order. "Kill her."
Peter thought his heart might stop, and not from exertion. Almost there...
The largest Sakaaran thug pulled out a gun, a new, compact, highly advanced type of blaster that Peter had never even seen before…and pointed it directly at her head.
Time stood still. His heart leapt to his throat, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. It felt like a thousand years passed as he watched that blaster pointed at Gamora as he ran towards them, he could practically see a line from where the barrel ended to where the blast would hit her, right in the center of her forehead.
And it was his all fault, all his goddamn fault, because he had told her to go right, and now she was quite literally in the line of fire because of him. She was going to die because he freaking sent her to the right.
The amount of emotion that Peter felt at seeing the person he loves most about to be taken out of the world was overwhelming. He's already lost his mother, and Yondu, and he can't lose Gamora too, he can't. He knows he's going to have nightmares about it. It was mostly just blind terror, and regret, but a lot of it was rage.
At the Sakaaran for pointing the gun, at the officer for just being there, at Nova Corps for not fully knowing what the hell they were sending them into, at himself for not being more prepared for something like this and for inviting Gamora, at Gamora for accepting. At time, for not being up to the moment where everything between them is said yet, when they haven't even had a chance to explore this thing between them. This is unforgiveable.
So he did the only thing he could have done, and that's what she doesn't understand. Even though she probably could have taken the hit, or moved out of the way fast enough, or yeah, likely even killed the Sakaaran before he could even pull the trigger—but Peter didn't know if that's what would happen, for sure, didn't know with absolutely certainty that she would be okay—so it's the only thing he could have done.
He ran, and he jumped in front of her.
It's like it was meant to happen that way, because the Sakaaran pulled the trigger at the exact moment he jumped, and the blast hit him directly in the chest, but it was near his shoulder, so it really wasn't that bad. He hit the ground hard when he landed, and that's definitely gonna leave a mark, and yeah, so blaster wounds burn like a mother and everything's spinning around him, but it's no worse than being drunk and getting his ass kicked. Well, okay...maybe a little worse. It's more like getting his ass kicked by ten guys after a three day bender, if one of the ten guys then proceeded to ram a rod of burning hot lava through his chest and slam him into the ground.
Getting shot sucks.
But Peter doesn't regret taking the hit, he feels pretty freaking great about it actually. He has never been happier about a single other decision he's made in his life, because Gamora is safe, and alive, so he can't have any regrets about that. He doesn't care that in order to save their own lives Gamora had to take out the corrupt officer and most of his Sakaaran friends, with no hope of non-violent capture or interrogation. In his opinion they got what they deserved.
But he does feel bad about scaring Gamora. The moments after he hit the ground are kind of confusing to him now, and there's a blank period between closing his eyes on the ground and waking up on the Milano, but he remembers her scream around the time the blast hit him in mid-air. He has a hazy maybe-memory of her kneeling over him, eyes wide.
No, Peter—stay awake—open your eyes—Peter!
And this is a woman who has been tortured without making a sound, who has fought madmen and monsters and seen the very worst that the galaxy has to offer and never backed down for a minute. He's not an idiot; he knows she's afraid sometimes. He's probably the only person who knows. Her reputation precedes her, and with good reason. People who don't know Gamora think she's cold, that she's just some heartless assassin, that she doesn't care, that she truly lives up to being the favorite daughter of Thanos, regardless of what she's done now with the Guardians to prove that's not who she really is. Opinions on someone as feared as her won't just change overnight.
But she does care about protecting innocent people, she proved that with Xandar, and she does care about the other Guardians, and she cares about him – he knows that, even if it's hard to know exactly how much sometimes. He knows she's still guarded, still slowly letting down her walls with the rest of them, with him, how strong she always has to be in order not to fall apart.
And she was terrified today, even though she is trying to mask it behind her anger. He hates it, hates that he is the reason for it, but he still wouldn't change a thing about what happened. If faced with the same choice again, he'd take a bullet for her every single time, no hesitation, if it meant that she wouldn't get hurt.
Now, back on the Milano as he lays on the bunk, Peter can hear her and Rocket talking up in the front of the ship, with Groot's occasional interjections of "I am Groot," but he can't make out exactly what they're saying, it sounds like they're underwater or something. Mantis is somewhere in the back of the ship, apparently hiding away from Gamora after she almost threatened to break her arm after Mantis had offered to help her calm down. Gamora hadn't meant it—he doesn't think—but he knows how upset she had been when they had gotten back to the ship, how upset she still is now, for that matter—and Mantis had gotten the brunt of her wrath.
He is currently getting the rest.
He sighs, making a pained grunt as he shifts on the bunk, trying to get comfortable but not finding any position that works. Drax keeps methodically poking and prodding him, apparently being the most skilled of the Guardians in the art of medicine besides Gamora (seriously?) from his years on the battlefield, and keeps trying to dress his wound, and it hurts.
"Dude, do you even know what you're doing?" Peter croaks irritably, and the Drax narrows his eyes.
"Indeed I do, Quill, but it would be much easier to tend to your wound appropriately if you would lie still," he says pointedly at Peter, tone patient almost as if he were addressing a child, and then continues to attempt to stop the bleeding wound on his chest.
It's weird, because usually plasma burns cauterize themselves and stop bleeding, and even the automatic skin sealant for wounds that Drax is attempting use on him isn't working. Apparently luck just isn't on his side today.
Peter glances back at Drax, finally laying back down on the bunk. "Yeah, yeah I know," he sighs in defeat. "Thanks man. I'll try to stop moving, okay?"
Drax nods silently in approval, a small smile on his lips, before continuing with his attempts to treat his wound.
He hates this.
Peter would really, really like to sit up, or at least prop himself up on his elbows, because he wants to at least try to hear what she is saying, even if she's so mad at him she can't be in the same room right now. But Drax has a point and also, his muscles feel like concrete and every effort makes him shake like crazy so he finally gives up. He lets Drax work on him for a while before the destroyer mentions needing "some primitive gauze" to add to the sealant on his wound to try and stop the bleeding. He stands and moves to the back compartment to fetch some more supplies from their meager medical kit. Peter agrees, mumbling something about how that's all he needs to be patched up. Maybe if he plays nice he'll get to avoid a stay in the Xandarian hospital.
After a while, he hears the sound of light footsteps heading towards him and recognizes that Rocket is coming over – his claws clinking along on the metal floor on the ship. His furry face appears a moment later next to the side of the bunk, hovering over him. Peter attempts to raise his arm to give him a thumbs up, but finds that he can't even summon the strength and the effort sends a shooting pain through his arm that makes stars explode in his head, and he winces instead.
"Hey moron, how's it going?" Rocket asks him, his sarcasm betrayed by the concern evident in his tone.
"Been better," Peter manages to get out, because even talking is zapping all his energy. He closes his eyes, swallowing thickly. "So, on a scale of one to ten, how mad is she?"
Rocket whistles. "Oh man, on a scale of one to ten…? Gotta be at least sixteen."
He exhales. It's moments like this when he wishes things were different between them. He wants to tell her it's okay that she's scared for him, but she would never admit that she is – he doesn't know if she even admits it to herself.
He wants to tell her why he's glad that he took that hit for her, why he'd do it again, but he's pretty sure she wouldn't talk to him again for days afterwards. He wants there to be something he can say that will make her feel less guilty, because he never wants her to blame herself for something like this, because she is already dealing with enough guilt for a lifetime, thanks to Thanos—but he won't lie to her. He can't say he won't do it again.
And damn it, he just got shot. No matter how it happened, he wishes she would just come over and sit with him because he feels like crap and having her there would make it a lot better, and so would having her not be mad at him.
"Eh, don't worry Quill, she'll get over it," Rocket shrugs, but his intonation makes it sound like a question, "eventually." Peter gets it—sometimes it's pretty hard to imagine the wrath of the Gamora ending, well, ever.
"Yeah, she'll get over it," Peter says with a groan. "But she'll never let me forget about it, trust me."
"Until you go and do the next idiot thing at least," Rocket smirks at him. "But still, I don't get why she's so angry at you right now. She'd do the same for you. We all would. God knows how much work it is to keep your sorry ass alive."
"Gee, thanks," Peter grumbles, turning away from Rocket and staring listlessly at the ceiling, unable to even snark back for once. He feels awful.
He knows she would, that they all would, just as he would do (and had just done) for any of them. He has another retort on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said, but he gets a wave of nausea that completely prohibits opening his mouth, so he just closes his eyes and tries to breathe through it. Rocket seems to get the hint and he feels a paw hesitantly pat his knee, then hears the same slight clicking of claws on metal fading away as he returns to the cockpit.
He doesn't remember feeling quite this bad the last time he was shot, at least six years ago—way before he even met Gamora and the others. Yondu and the rest of the Ravagers hadn't let him live down the fact that a "little plasma hit" directly in the back had been enough to take him down, and had been sure to remind him that he was just a "fragile little terran". Peter had been laid up for a couple days after that, but had been ready for the Ravager's next raid shortly thereafter (or at least he had sucked it up and pretended he was, for fear of being useless to them).
It doesn't make sense that this is worse – or not worse, exactly, but different, because the wound itself doesn't hurt quite as much – a dull pain as opposed to unbelievable agony – but he feels like he's been run over by the entire Xandarian fleet of ships. He's survived holding the Infinity Stone, and being a personal battery for Ego, and somehow this is torture. He's so tired he can't even move… the mere act of breathing is getting painful, and more difficult with each breath, and he's so dizzy he can feel his heartbeat pulsing throughout his entire body like someone is hitting him with a hammer, and everything is getting progressively worse, and fast.
This isn't normal. He wants to make a noise, but he suddenly can't remember how to form words. Something is wrong, really wrong, but suddenly he can't move, can't even yell out for help.
He needs Gamora to come back in here and kick everyone else's ass for leaving him alone. He can make her laugh if she just comes back in. He can make her forgive him.
He just needs her to come back…
She offers to take Rocket's spot as pilot for a while because she needs something to distract herself with, and he reluctantly relents, mumbling something about wanting to check on Peter. They're still half an hour away from the private hospital on Xandar, which would be the best place to get Peter treated—and in one of his brief moments of consciousness on the ground in the alley, Peter had mumbled 'Milano' where a normal person would say 'hospital' and as furious as she was, she trusted him, and they headed for Xandar instead of any closer planetary hospitals.
She's always liked flying. She isn't as naturally talented as Peter or cybernetically programmed in the same ways as Rocket to be an exceptional pilot, but her enhancements definitely lent to quickly learning how, and was maybe the only thing she enjoyed learning from her tortured upbringing.
For the first time, the darkness of the universe or the blinking of the stars around her doesn't calm her.
Groot sits in silence next to her, sensing that she needs this time alone, to think, to calm down, and doesn't offer his usual cuddles or curious questions. She doesn't want to hear them right now, anyways.
Rocket comes back much sooner than she expected and she tightens her grip on the controls, reluctant to give it up.
He doesn't ask for it back, but sighs heavily, before finally saying, "Ah, damn it, I can't believe I'm actually saying this…but I think you should go back there, Gamora."
"I'm fine right here," she answers shortly.
She can practically hear the disappointment in his voice, and damn it, she likes Rocket but for him to get all knowing and judgmental like this is just so ironic and out of character that it makes her want to punch something.
"So Quill is a self-sacrificing idiot and just got shot for you, even though he knows you could have survived it," he tries again. "Whether you wanted him to or not, whether that was a smart idea or not, which I'm not saying it was, believe me…he's hurt and, uh, you should…you should go be with him."
She knows he's right. She shouldn't be angry, but she doesn't know how to let it go. She knows she should be back there, holding his hand and thanking him… and just thanking the universe that he's okay, he's not dead… he's still here. But the sight of him makes her want to scream. As much as she wants to be back there with him, she's not certain she can keep it together if she even looks at him right now.
There's silence as Rocket's words hang in the air and both he and Groot stay quiet, waiting for her response, because she's sure they can sense she's barely holding it together.
She's got to be better than this.
She tries to imagine how he'd be acting if the situation were reversed and she'd jumped in front of a shot meant for him. She can see it so clearly – he'd be furious, he'd be pacing in the back of the ship, raving about how stupid it was for her to do, how he didn't ask her to do it, and that although he may be the weak one that doesn't mean she needs to risk her life for him. He'd be going on and on to the others about how many times she's almost died, how reckless she is with her own life. He'd be hovering over her every move, refusing to let her do anything for herself and checking on her every five seconds to make sure that she was really okay, ignoring every one of her protests that she was fine.
He would, essentially, be driving her completely insane and she'd probably beg him to go sit in the cockpit and leave her in peace.
But she has no doubt he'd stay with her anyway.
"Rocket, take the controls," she says finally, and he nods in silent approval as she moves out of the way and slips out of the pilot seat. Groot gives her a happy smile and a little wave as well.
She's barely down the ladder when she hears a loud thump and she feels a sudden spike in apprehension, causing her to scramble the rest of the way down, less than gracefully. A second later she sees Peter sitting hunched over on the ground, clearly having tried to get up off the bunk and fallen, and her heart clenches with fear. She runs over and crashes to her knees next to him, reaching out to keep him from falling over. He looks awful—how did he get so bad so fast—he is covered in sweat and he doesn't even seem completely awake, breathing heavily and leaning to the side with glassy, confused eyes.
She presses her hand against his forehead, which is damp with sweat, and he rests his head heavily against it, exhausted. He's burning up. She feels sick.
"Peter, what's wrong?!" she demands shakily, even though she knows he can't answer.
When she moves her hand away, he leans forward and rests his forehead against her collarbone, and she gets the feeling that if she wasn't there he would have just kept pitching forward onto the floor face first. He is radiating heat, and there is no way a Terran should be this hot, she's sure, and yet she can feel him shivering against her. She can tell that his breathing is funny, something is wrong, it's too slow and labored, and there's a new wheezing sound with each pained breath he takes. He couldn't answer her if he tried.
She's not used to this— because he's always a pain in the ass when he's injured or sick, he always complains, he never shuts up, he tells his stupid jokes, he can't be this quiet— something is seriously wrong.
"Peter," she says again, desperately. She's pathetic, she doesn't sound confident or reassuring, she sounds terrified. She sounds like a child. "Hey!"
She shakes him a little and he groans painfully in response. She gets her hands on his shoulders and manages to slowly push him upright, using her arms to brace him. It's hard going because he's too weak to even balance and she feels guilty for even making him move, of hurting him more, but the idea of him losing consciousness makes her panic.
This is when Gamora sees that the sealant over his wound is doing nothing to stop the blood loss now, and it's dripping freely down his chest in rivulets, worsening by the second.
Her vision goes fuzzy, she's so frightened.
"Rocket, Drax, something's wrong with Peter!" she shouts as loud as she can, hoping anyone nearby in the ship will hear her, really, because Peter is pale white and he's looking at her with watery, unfocused eyes that already seem half-dead, and she doesn't even think he can see her. She gets an arm under his back and one around his neck and manages to lower him more roughly onto the floor than she intends, because gravity is only making him lose blood faster, and then she hears Rocket and Groot running up behind her, having left the ship on autopilot—she hears Rocket swear when he catches sight of Peter on the floor.
"What the hell happened?" he asks sharply, skidding to a stop at Peter's side and shaking his arm, getting no response. "Quill, hey, stay with us here!"
Peter is staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes in a total daze and he doesn't even look like he's feeling anything anymore, which is not good. He moans slightly when Rocket roughly rubs his claws against his sternum to invoke a response to pain, and Gamora reaches out to hold his face in both hands, and she can put up with all of his half-serious teasing about this later if he just won't die...
Peter, just hang on...Peter, please...
"Drax, Mantis, get up here!" calls Rocket, unable to hide his growing panic anymore, and they both come bounding from the back of the ship only moments later, a roll of gauze that Drax had finally managed to find in his large hands, Mantis wide-eyed behind him as they rush to join them at Peter's side.
Gamora doesn't even realize she's pleading his name out loud until Peter's fingers somehow manage to close around her wrist, tangling into her leather cuff. Even with that stoned glaze on his face and his eyes staring at some point above her head, he's trying to say something, wheezing heavily, and she leans down closer to hear it, her dark hair brushing his face.
"S-stay."
His voice is so hoarse and weak she can barely understand him, but she does… she feels like she's going to throw up because he doesn't look scared even though he's dying and it's because she's there, she knows it is. She doesn't understand how she became this person for him but it breaks her heart because she is not nearly enough. She left him back here hurt and alone because she was angry that he saved her life. He deserves so much more than her.
"I will," she croaks, "I promise." She sounds like she's spent the last year of her life screaming.
"Damn it, we're still too far from Xandar," Rocket bites out in frustration and worry as Groot comes closer to Peter's side.
"I am Groot," the little tree says in obvious worry as he peers down at their fallen captain, his wide eyes filled with tears.
"Yeah, but we need somewhere that's more equipped to treat Terrans, and now the only place close enough is Xandar," Rocket answers with a dejected shake of his head before turning back to Drax and Mantis and Gamora, shooting off rapid fire questions as if one of them might have the answer. "So, what's wrong with him?! What do we do?"
Drax rummages hastily through the poorly stocked first aid kit. He pulls out the wads of gauze and leans over Peter, looking sadly at them. "He is losing too much blood," he tells them all, placing the gauze carefully over the still-bleeding wound on Peter's chest. It barely seems to slow the bleeding down. "And we need more medical supplies than this ship is equipped with."
"May I?" Mantis asks hesitantly, reaching her hands out slowly towards Peter's head, glancing at the other Guardians before finally landing on Gamora.
Gamora feels a surge of guilt, remembering her outburst against her earlier when Mantis was just trying to help, and knows she owes her an apology. She holds her gaze steadily, exhaling a shaky breath, hoping the sincerity is evident in her tone.
"Yes, Mantis," she croaks again, not even recognizing her own voice. "Please, if you can help him..."
Mantis nods, biting her lower lip, before taking a deep breath and placing her hands on either side of Peter's pale, still face. He doesn't respond to her touch.
Her antennae start to glow, and she instantly starts breathing heavily, her whole body growing tense.
"Oh no, oh no no no," she cries out, eyes tightly closed, her hands still on Peter's face.
"What? What is it?" Rocket demands, and Gamora finds she can't even talk, freezing in fear.
Oh no no no no no...
"So much pain...but he's trying to, he's fighting to stay..." Mantis chokes out, removing her shaking hands from Peter now, eyes wet with unshed tears, and Gamora forgets how to breathe.
"Mantis, tell us what you know," Drax encourages urgently but gently, seeing how upset Mantis is but knowing time is of the essence. Mantis looks sadly up at all of them, her voice trembling as she drops the final blow.
"We're losing him..."
Gamora feels like someone has driven a knife right through her heart.
"Oh no we're not!" Rocket growls quickly, and Gamora tries to ignore that he actually looks panicked now behind his tough facade. "Okay, I'm going to put this piece of junk into overdrive and get us to Xandar! Now."
He turns to leave, before hesitating a moment, expression both determined and grim. "Just keep Quill alive long enough to get 'im there." With that, he scurries back to the cockpit, Groot on his heels.
Drax turns back towards Peter, his expression grave. "His injuries are grevious, but we cannot give up."
Mantis looks over at Gamora, voice soft but still holding onto the edges of hope. "Keep talking to him. We must try to keep him awake."
Gamora nods in a daze, unable to respond as she watches Drax presses the gauze down on his chest as hard as he can without crushing Peter in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding, and her eyes betray her and start burning with tears. This should be hurting him but he isn't crying out, isn't even making a sound. Peter is never this quiet, never this still, and everything about this is just so wrong that Gamora feels completely lost.
"Peter, stay awake," she finally says shakily, trying to follow Mantis' instruction, and suddenly finding that she is at a loss for words, but she manages them. For Peter, she can do this. She leans in closer then, trying to convey every ounce of authority that she doesn't feel into her voice. "Do you hear me? Stay awake!"
He's trying, she can tell, his eyes are fluttering shut all the time now but every few seconds it's like a jolt goes through him and he manages to open them again. But he never seems to find her, or any of them, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he fades away.
He was supposed to be fine…
"Peter, look at me! Come on, you have to fight this!" Her voice breaks, but she continues anyways. "You have to keep fighting..."
She's begging now, but she doesn't care. She can't lose him.
"We're almost there! Prepare for landing!" Rocket's voice rings out from the cockpit just then. "How's Quill?"
At his words, Groot peers his tiny head in anxiously through the doorway.
Drax glances up at Gamora before he answers and shouts back, "He is still alive!"
But the expression on his face when he turns back to Peter is hopeless and Gamora feels her heart nearly stop in fear.
This doesn't seem real. Just a little while ago they were wandering through the streets of Knowhere, following their target on what was supposed to be an easy mission, talking about the most mundane things in the universe. She doesn't even remember what they were talking about but it was so hard not to laugh, for her not to laugh, and she had to keep slapping him on the arm (gently of course) to make sure they didn't blow their cover. She loved it. She loves being with him. Just a little while ago he was going to be fine and she was angry.
"Peter, you have to hang on...please…"
He stops opening his eyes.
It feels as though time has absolutely stood still from that moment to when they touch down at Xandar's hospital, and Gamora can't stand it. She holds his hand as Drax does what he can with a half-stocked first aid kit, and Mantis can't even reach Peter now when she puts her hands on his face again, because he's too far gone.
She tries not to see the desperation on Rocket's face when he checks in on Peter again, because he never shows fear as an emotion, and the fact that he's obviously scared is a fact she just can't deal with—she can't let herself think about what that means, because she is still trying to hope, even as Peter's hand doesn't move in hers and he doesn't respond when she calls his name. His wound is still bleeding, and it feels as though it will never stop.
There is blood in the corner of his mouth and she gets rid of it gently with her sleeve, barely able to steady her hand.
His face is so white. He looks so peaceful but she knows he doesn't want to die. He is not at peace, he can't be, he has to be fighting. He has to be fighting behind the fog that is keeping him from them, from her. She has to believe that there is a part of him that can even still fight, even as he bleeds out on the Milano's floor, barely breathing now.
Even as she stares at his face, it seems impossible that this is real. There is a tiny corner of her mind that stubbornly refuses to believe this is actually happening, even though the rationale, pragmatic part of her knows it is, but she chooses to ignore it. Like a stupid, foolish child.
When they touch down, Xandarian doctors swarm them and she hears Rocket tell them about what happened, Groot clinging to his side, hears Drax having a hushed conversation with Mantis in the corner. She tries to block it out but hears their concerned tones and wants to scream.
And then she is ripped away from Peter when the waiting Xandarian medical team take him, and she chokes on a plea to stay with him, because she can't get in their way, these are the people who are going to save him. But then she remembers stay. And she promised him.
"Wait!"
They have lifted him onto a gurney, and there is a medical holo reading all his vitals rapidly, and they don't even seem to hear her as they start wheeling him away.
"I'm coming with you!" she cries, striding after them. She hears Rocket say "Ah crap!" and wants to throw something at him. He heard her promise.
One of the doctors turns to her as they walk and says, "We're doing everything we can for Mr. Quill but you have to let us work."
"You don't understand!"
"The best thing you can do for him right now is trust us, and let us help him."
"I'm not going to get in your way, I just need to stay with him!"
"That's not a good idea, I'm sorry."
"And I get that, but I promised him..."
"Please, you need to calm down!"
She won't hurt him because he's supposed to be helping, but there are three other people working on Peter, so she grabs this man's collar with both hands and slams him up against the wall, toes dangling several inches off the ground. He looks stunned and frightened and pale under his orange skin, and this is good—someone else is scared now.
"Gamora, enough!"
Drax's commanding voice comes from behind her but she ignores him. She looks at the doctor, who looks like he'll do anything she says just to get out of this situation. So she lets him down and he gives her a terrified nod, and he runs off after the other doctors who are taking Peter. No one else tries to stop her because she is completely capable of killing them all with her bare hands and they are well aware of that now.
She tries to follow him, but suddenly Drax and Rocket are blocking her view and she pushes back the instinct to remove them because they are trying to help.
"Get out of my way," she growls, voice low, dangerous. She made Peter a promise and she intends on keeping it.
"Look, Gamora, we're freaked out too, same as you," Rocket tries a placating tone with her first. "But we've gotta let them do their job if they're gonna help Quill, which means we gotta stay out of the way."
"I don't care," she snaps back, her nerves a badly frayed wire that she can't contain anymore. She made Peter a promise, and he needs her right now, she needs to be there...
"Rocket is right," Drax adds, giving her a sad, knowing look, that makes her want to fight them even more. She doesn't need their sympathy, she doesn't want it. "We must not interfere with the doctors attempting to save Quill."
"Peter needs us right now, we need to be in there!" she shouts back, her voice cracking, and she knows she's dangerously close to falling apart.
"I am Groot," she hears a little voice plead behind her, and she wheels back around to see both Groot and Mantis staring at her with wide, pleading eyes.
"You don't understand," Gamora doesn't even recognize herself as she pleads with them, blinking back unwanted tears, "he needs us..."
The unspoken needs me rings in the air between all of them, and Gamora clenches her jaw in a desperate, last ditch effort to reign in her emotions.
"What he needs right now," Drax says quietly, his booming voice unusually soft, and Gamora turns back to him and Rocket, "is for us to stay together, and let the doctors treat his ailments. We will not be of any use to them while they try to save him."
And damn it, Gamora knows he's right, but that doesn't make it any easier to take, any easier for her to handle having Peter out of her sight when he might be dying right now, and she needs to be there with him, she told him she would...
She squares herself, because she has to get to Peter, they just don't understand that. She takes another step, meaning to blow past Drax and Rocket, but they must know that's what she means to do, because the next thing she knows is Drax is shoving her backwards and Rocket is making a knowing gesture behind her.
The last thing she hears is "sleep" as Mantis' hands brush her forehead, and then Gamora's word goes dark.
Gamora has never been one to wake up gently, living the life she has, and this is no exception.
She comes to with a start, jumping up to her feet unsteadily, already in fighting stance before she fully registers what's going on.
"Whoa, Gamora, take it easy!" she hears Rocket cry out from the corner of the room, but she vaguely even registers that he or the other Guardians are there as she tries to figure out what's going on.
But his voice does little to soothe her, because Peter is the only one who is good at that, the only one who can talk any of them down...
Peter. Oh God.
"Peter," she chokes out, everything coming back to her in a crushing wave as awareness registers and her mind finally clears, "...where is he?"
"He is still with the doctors," Drax tells her quickly, moving forward towards her in the small, private, and painfully sterile waiting room they are currently in, as if to intervene should she try to go after Peter again.
"We still don't know," Rocket sighs heavily, ears flattening against his head.
"They should be back soon with news," Mantis adds hopefully from her spot on the other side of the room, Groot sitting in her lap. She swallows thickly when Gamora turns on her, because Gamora knows she can't even hide the anger on her face.
"You," Gamora growls, pointing a finger at her, trying to ignore how much she's still shaking, "if you ever pull a stunt like that on me again..."
"It was not her fault," Drax interrupts, pulling her attention back to him.
"Nah, it was ours," Rocket adds, pointing his clawed thumbs back at himself. "We told her to do it if we couldn't stop ya."
"Why would you even think that I would need to be stopped?" Gamora asks incredulously.
"I am Groot," the tiny tree adds, silencing the room for a moment.
"Well, he's not wrong," Rocket finally clarifies with a shrug, eyes settling on her, and suddenly the room fills entirely too small with all of them looking at her. "When it comes to Quill lately, you ain't always makin' the clearest judgments."
"It is not always easy to make wise decisions when it comes to the ones we love," Drax adds knowingly, a wistful expression on his face, and Gamora knows he knows exactly what this feels like.
She's speechless, doesn't even have an argument for that one, and she sinks heavily into a chair in the corner of the room, as if she is a balloon all the air has been let out of.
Because they're right.
"I am sorry, I am truly sorry," Mantis breaks the silence after a moment, her voice both timid and sincere. "I should not have done that to you, Gamora."
"No, Mantis," Gamora's voice is hoarse, and she suddenly feels like she doesn't have any fight left, because she doesn't know what's happening to Peter, none of them do, and they might still lose him. She looks back up at Mantis, hoping her gaze expresses what her words can not. "I'm the one who's sorry. For now, and for what I said earlier. You were just trying to help."
Mantis gives her a small smile and nods, accepting Gamora's apology.
Then Gamora turns away, and buries her face in her hands. There's been no word on Peter, and she thinks she might actually break if the doctors don't come back soon and tell them what's going on.
If she doesn't get the chance to tell him that she's ready to take their spoken thing further, then she doesn't know what she will do. She's already wasted so much time, that she could have had with him, all because she was afraid of their unspoken thing finally becoming real.
And now, she realizes, it might be too late.
The rest of the team seems to sense her barely holding it together, and fall into silence, leaving her in peace in the corner as she tries and fails to hide her emotions.
Only moments later, but what seems like an eternity, a tall man with pale blue skin and kind eyes comes into the room, with a medical frock and badge that clearly indicate he is a doctor.
"Family of Peter Quill?" he asks calmly with a professional air to his tone, although he most certainly already knows who all of them are and that they are here for Peter.
Gamora is up out of her seat first and standing in front of him, eyes wide and desperate for news on Peter's condition, but somehow the words are lodged in her throat, and she can't get them out.
"We are his family," Drax answers firmly, coming to stand supportively at her side, as they all gather around the doctor in apprehension.
"Yeah doc, we are," Rocket confirms, Mantis and Groot standing behind him, "so tell us, how is he?"
The doctor nods, giving them a tight smile. "I won't lie to you, Guardians, it was close. We almost lost him."
"...But he's okay?" Gamora croaks, and she doesn't even recognize her own voice, is barely aware that the words came out of her mouth of their own volition.
"Yes, for the most part," the doctor smiles a little bigger, turning to look directly at her. "He's in recovery right now, being monitored by my attendants for the next few hours, but I have high hopes that he will pull through this without any further complications."
"That is most wonderful news!" Mantis beams, Groot hugging her neck tightly in excitement.
"Quill shall make a full recovery then?" Drax asks, still not completely convinced that Peter is really alright.
"I believe so," the doctor confirms with a patient look. "He's a fighter, there's no doubt about that. A lesser Terran wouldn't have survived this."
"Well, it's a good thing he's only half-Terran then," Rocket sighs heavily, obvious relief in his tone, the same relief that all of them are acutely feeling. "So when can we see 'im?"
Gamora's heart skips a beat, because she can't bear to wait another second from seeing Peter and confirming with her own two eyes that he's alive, really alive, and healing.
Unfortunately, the doctor shakes his head at them. "I'm afraid it will still be a while before you can see him. You see, the weapon used on him was more than just a typical plasma blaster. It uses poison to slowly kill its target, as well as thinning the blood so the intended victim will hemorrhage more easily."
A chorus of growls and swears and death threats emerge from the Guardians at this information. If Gamora hadn't already disposed of the ones responsible for doing this to Peter, she'd be doing it again right now.
"As I was saying," the doctor continues calmly, effectively silencing them, "it's a newer black market weapon a lot of criminal low-lifes are using nowadays, and luckily we recognized it right away, or Mr. Quill wouldn't be with us right now. With this toxin still detoxing his system, he's still too critical for visitors, and needs to be monitored around the clock. Besides, he's still unconscious for the time being."
Gamora's heart sinks at this information.
"Is that normal for a humie?" Rocket asks with barely hidden concern. "Shouldn't he be awake by now?"
"Don't worry, he's out of danger for the most part, I assure you. It's not uncommon for a patient of Mr. Quill's genetic make-up to take awhile to return to consciousness, with everything he's been through," the doctor reassures them in a soothing tone. "Just give him some time to recover."
"Thank you, fair doctor," Drax claps him on the shoulder so hard that he stumbles. "You have saved our friend, and we are eternally grateful."
"Thank you!" Mantis adds, still beaming awkwardly at him, which is immediately followed by a happy "I am Groot!" from her shoulder.
"Yeah, doc, thanks a lot," Rocket adds, sounding sincere for once.
Gamora can't find her words, lost in a sea of overwhelmed emotions, and just nods at the doctor, hoping he understands.
He does, smiling gently at her. "My pleasure. When Mr. Quill is ready for visitors, or if there is any change, I'll send an attendant for you immediately."
With that, the doctor leaves the waiting room, leaving behind a very relieved group.
"Son of a bitch," Rocket breathes, half-relieved and half-annoyed because he'd been so worried in first place. "Quill actually pulled it off. He's still alive."
"It is wonderous news," Drax agrees, looking slightly shell shocked. "Quill is much tougher than I originally assumed. No one could recover from injuries as bad as those."
"But he's really going to be okay!" Mantis laughs in relief.
"I am Groot," Groot adds, jumping down off of her shoulder and coming over next to Rocket.
"Yeah, of course we were worried he wouldn't make it," Rocket replies irritably. "That was way too close this time. And we're gonna make sure he doesn't forget it, so maybe he won't go do some other dumbass thing again after this."
He pauses, voice growing a little more somber. "At least, ya know, we'll tell him when he wakes up."
Gamora hasn't said a word this entire time, her body stiff and rigid as she tries to reign in her emotions.
Peter's alive. Peter's alive.
Rocket was right, it had been too close this time, and they'd nearly lost him for good. Honestly, after he had almost died on Ego's planet, before Yondu had sacrificed himself to save him, Gamora hadn't thought he'd have another brush with death again, at least not this soon.
How foolish.
But now, as she sinks down in a chair away from the rest of her team, amd buries her face in her hands once again, Gamora tries to slow her breathing as she realizes they've gotten yet another chance.
She also realizes this may be the last one, so she can't, she won't, waste any more time.
"Gamora?" she hears Mantis hesitantly call her name, and she snaps her head back up to see the other four staring at her in concern.
"You, uh, okay over there?" Rocket asks her carefully.
She nods, clenching her jaw in order to steady herself.
"Be glad," Drax encourages, giving her a kind smile. "Quill is going to be alright."
Gamora chokes out a small laugh of disbelief, just shaking her head. It's all too much, all of the emotions she's feeling right now, but she finally looks back at them, unshed tears of relief shining in her eyes.
"Peter's alive," she whispers, just loud enough that they can all hear. "He's alive."
"When's he gonna freaking wake up already?"
"The doctor said we must have patience."
"I am Groot!"
"He has been through something quite terrible, but perhaps I could try to wake him?"
"No, we need to let him rest. He'll wake up when he's ready."
"Well, he's sure taking his sweet time with it! Typical Quill."
Peter is vaguely aware there are voices, floating past him, very familiar voices, just beyond where he is now.
But try as much as he can, he can't reach them. It's like he is stuck in some sort of a fog, unable to move, or speak, or even open his eyes.
And he has no idea where he is, or what the hell even happened to him.
He's not even sure if he's awake, or even alive, for that matter. Maybe he did die, and he's stuck in some unending purgatory for the rest of existence.
God, that would suck.
But no, he can still feel pain, can feel a dull ache in his chest and a general lethargy all over, his limbs feeling leaden and useless. If he were really dead, he doesn't think he'd actually be able to feel anything. At least, he hopes not.
And if this is what the afterlife has in store for him, then he's going to be seriously pissed. He'd been banking at the very least to be able to harass Yondu for the rest of eternity.
He'd been more seriously counting on being able to see his mother again.
Feeling is slowly coming back to him now, awareness spreading through his body, and Peter starts hoping that maybe he's still alive after all.
The voices from before are gone now, but he can clearly hear the nearby whirring of machines, and the steady beeps of some type of controls. It feels like he's lying in some sort of a bed, but he's sure it's not the Milano.
And someone is most definitely holding his hand.
Warm fingers are interlaced tightly with his, and heat from the other person's palm is radiating against his.
If he didn't know better, he would swear that it felt like...
He finally opens his eyes.
Peter has to blink several times to clear his vision, his eyelids still heavy. The room he is in is dark, only the lights from the hallway and from the touchscreen holos above the bed monitoring his vitals lighting the room—damn it, so he did end up in a hospital, after all—and then he notices some very recognizable little light spores from Groot, floating around the room. He smiles at this, because although Groot is still too little to make a lot of them at once, Peter knows how much effort went into making these for him.
As his mind slowly clears and his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he notices the other Guardians sprawled out around the room, fast asleep.
Drax is leaning back in a chair in the corner of the room, head tipped back against the wall, snoring with his mouth wide open. Mantis is in a chair next to him, leaning against his shoulder and sleeping soundly, antennae lighting up every so often.
In the sill of the window by his bed, Rocket is curled up in a ball, looking suspiciously like how a cat from Earth might sleep, with Groot sprawled across his back, completely passed out in his fur.
Peter slowly turns to look at the other side of his bed, looking down at his pale fingers laced with green ones.
Gamora is in a chair next to his bed, holding tightly to his hand even as she sleeps, her head propped up on her other arm on the side of his bed.
Peter smiles with affection at first, at seeing her so openly care for him, but that quickly turns into a frown when he can clearly see the lines of worry drawn on her face, even in sleep. Gamora doesn't do worried, or at least show it, because she has the best poker face of anyone he knows, and Peter feels a pang of guilt at realizing that he must be the cause.
Everything is coming back to him now, in bits and pieces. The surveillance mission, the gun aimed at Gamora, getting shot, her being mad at him, his condition rapidly deteriorating and feeling like he was dying, Gamora pleading with him to hang on, then darkness...
Yeah, so, he might have cut it a little close this time. No wonder Gamora looks worried.
With that, he squeezes their joined hands gently, hoping to wake her, to let her know that hey, he's okay—but it happens to be the arm near where he got shot, and he groans in pain as he moves, fire flaring through the injury.
Gamora sits up instantly, eyes wide as she takes in any possible threats, and then their eyes finally meet, and he can see a thousand emotions swimming in hers as she holds his gaze.
"...Peter?" she whispers, and he can hear the mix of anticipation and relief in her voice at finally seeing him awake.
"Hey," he whispers hoarsely—and whoa, does it sound like he swallowed gravel—but he gives her what he hopes is his most charming smile, although it feels more like a grimace.
Before they can say anything else, there is a blur from over by the window, and suddenly Groot lands in his lap, face lit up with excitement.
"I am Groot! I am Groot!" the tiny tree exclaims, before jumping onto Peter's chest and wrapping his wooden arms tightly around his neck.
Peter can't hold back a pained grunt as Groot jostles his wound, sucking in a breath as he raises a free hand to gently pat his small back in reassurance. "Hey there, little buddy. Glad to see you too."
"Groot, come on, be careful! He's still got a hole in 'im, geez," Peter hears Rocket exclaim from the window.
"Quill, you are awake!" Drax bellows from the other side of the room as he and Mantis sit up.
Everyone is definitely awake now.
Groot pulls back, letting go of his death grip on Peter, now looking afraid that he had hurt him somehow. "I am Groot..."
"Nah, don't worry, I'm fine," he quickly reassures him, patting him gently on the head and failing to hide a wince as he moves. He forces a smile. "Really."
"Saying you are 'fine' would be an exaggeration," Gamora admonishes him gently, and he turns back to look at her, the relief clearly etched on her face.
He sighs, giving their still joined hands a reassuring squeeze. "Well, I'm a lot better than I was."
"Yeah, I'll say," Rocket grouses, jumping off the window sill and onto the foot of his bed near his feet, so that he can appropriately glare at him. "You tried to bleed to death all over the d'ast ship before we got you here."
"We were really worried about you," Mantis adds softly from the corner where she is still sitting with Drax, looking at him with wide eyes.
"We were not sure that you would live," Drax chimes in solemnly. "We were fairly certain that you were too weak to survive such an injury."
"Yeah, so it turns out, that fancy new blaster the a-hole who shot you used is more than just yer standard plasma prototype," Rocket explains with a growl. "It actually poisons its target, just in case the plasma don't do the job. Also thins out yer blood, apparently, so you'll bleed out faster."
Well, that explains a lot. Peter had known something was different about it when he'd been hit, and now he knew why.
Rocket sighs then, angry expression fading into something more serious. "Honestly, it's a d'ast miracle you even survived this. You nearly died, Quill."
Mantis and Groot nod while Drax hums his agreement. He feels Gamora tighten her grip on his hand.
"Good thing I'm a lot tougher than I look," Peter tries to joke, slightly uncomfortable that they are all so worried about him, all staring at him with love and concern, while at the same time being so grateful to have friends like this in his life, to have a family like this.
He isn't sure he deserves them.
"Look, guys, I'm sorry I scared you, but I'm okay now," he answers, his voice thick with emotion, because damn it he almost died, and these people made sure he didn't. "Really."
"You will be after you rest," Gamora replies quietly but firmly, leaving no room for argument. Peter knows better than to try and challenge her when she's like this, even though it feels as though he's already been in bed for days.
"Guess that means I'm not leaving this place anytime soon, huh?" he smiles ruefully, gesturing around the hospital room with his free hand.
"Not a chance," Rocket smirks, giving his leg a quick slap. "We're gonna have to wrap you up in bubble wrap before you leave here, anyways."
Peter can't help but roll his eyes, although he's also smiling because Rocket has inadvertently used one of his Earth expressions. "Yeah, yeah, read me the riot act later."
"Riot act?" Drax looks puzzled, and slightly defensive. "Is there going to be some sort of a..."
"No," Gamora cuts him off quickly, as Peter and Rocket both sigh in relief. Drax was getting better at picking up on meanings, but it was still a struggle. "The only thing happening now is that we are leaving, so that Peter can rest."
"I am Groot," Groot protests, but Rocket just scoops him up and throws him on his shoulder.
"Of course we'll come back and see the idiot tomorrow," Rocket reassures him. He turns back towards Peter. "Try not to fall out of bed or something, will ya?"
Peter can recognize his badly hidden concern, and can't help the smirk that crosses his face. "I'll do my best, Ranger Rick."
Rocket mumbles something under his breath as he leaves the room, Groot waving from his shoulder as they disappear out the door. Peter knows Rocket is only going easy on him right now because he's confined to a hospital bed, but it's not stopping him from using that to his advantage.
"I am so glad that you are feeling better," Mantis beams at him as her and Drax come closer to the bed to say good-bye.
"Indeed, it is good to see you awake, Quill," Drax gives a single nod, eyes sincere.
"Thanks guys," Peter smiles warmly at them, "for everything." They nod, then walk out the door, following after Rocket and Groot.
Which just leaves Gamora, still holding his hand. Silence falls between them for moment, before Peter can't stand it anymore.
"So I guess you're staying..." he begins, before she abruptly cuts him off.
"I thought I lost you, Peter," she says quietly, not making eye contact, just staring at their joined hands, her voice hollow and broken. "I was so angry, at first, because you were so reckless, because you saved my life...almost at the expense of yours."
Peter opens his mouth to say something, to reassure her that he knew what he was doing, and that he'd do it all over again, but the pained look on her face stops him. He swallows thickly instead as she continues.
"And then you were...you were dying, and I couldn't stop it, I couldn't do anything..." she trails off with a shuddering breath, still avoiding his gaze.
Peter feels a pang in his heart at her words, at how much he scared her, at how upset she looks, and he desperately wants to fix it. He squeezes her hand again, trying to get her to look up at him. "God, I'm sorry, Gamora. But I had to do it, because..."
She cuts him off once again, but this time by suddenly standing up, leaning across the bed, and kissing him.
It is the first time they've ever kissed, and it's just as kick ass and amazing and perfect as Peter always knew it would be.
Of course, he'd never really pictured it while he was in a hospital bed with a bullet hole in his chest, but hey, he's not gonna complain about Gamora finally kissing him, no matter what the circumstances.
He reaches a hand up into her hair, desperately pulling her closer to him, and she grips the sides of his face in hers, deepening the kiss.
After a moment, she pulls back, slightly breathless. Peter stares back at her in a mixture of awe and shock, face flushed from their unexpected make-out.
Neither of them say anything for a moment, eyes still locked in the soft darkness of the room, until Peter reaches up with his good arm and cups her cheek gently.
"Gamora, what..?" he starts, at a loss for words, brows furrowed in confusion, because he has no idea what just happened. Of course, he can't help himself, and a moment later a wide grin spreads across his face. "Not that I'm complaining, or anything, because that was awesome, seriously, but why did you just..."
She silences him with another kiss, longer than before, and Peter groans in surprise into her mouth.
He could really really get used to doing this with her.
Gamora pulls back again, slowly, but she is smiling now too, looking strangely light and free in a way he rarely sees her. He looks back at her fondly, reaching up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
"Peter," she sighs heavily, sitting down on the edge of the bed now to be closer to him. "I almost didn't get a chance for this," she continues more softly, running a finger lightly up his chest, careful to avoid his bandages, "and in those terrible moments when I didn't know if you would be alright until the doctor told us that you would be...I realized something."
"What's that?" he encourages her gently, knowing how hard it is for her to put things like this into words, and his heart swells with even more affection for her.
Gamora looks back up at him with a soft smile, eyes blazing. "I don't want to waste any more time."
And with that, she's kissing him again, all warm and soft and meant for him. Peter thinks if he actually died right now, instead, then he would still die happy.
They pull apart again after a minute when Peter's accelerating heart rate starts setting off the monitors on the wall holo, foreheads pressed together as they try to slow their breathing, but Peter can't help but laugh, causing Gamora to laugh as well.
After they regain their composure and Peter's heart rate returns to normal, he beams up at her, unable to stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face.
"You're amazing," he breathes, eyes shining. "And let me tell you, I feel one hundred percent better now. What do ya say we bust me out of this place and go do more of that on the Milano?"
Gamora smirks at him, gently running her hand through his hair, and he leans into her touch. It feels amazing when she touches him. "Nice try Peter, but there is no way are you leaving this place until the doctors give you a clean bill of health."
Peter sighs, because he figured that'd be her response, but he also figures he can at least try for another kiss.
"Then get back over here," he pulls her down to him, hungry to feel her lips against his again. Gamora sighs into his mouth, melting into him...until the heart monitor starts going off again, and she immediately pulls back with a frown.
"No, no, just ignore it," Peter mutters, and he wishes he had his blasters so he could shoot that stupid holo. He tries to pull her back to him again, because he never wants to stop kissing her, now that he knows this a thing they do, but she resists this time, smiling down at him in amusement.
"Peter," Gamora shakes her head, slapping him fondly on the arm as she deftly escapes his grasp. "We should stop. You need to rest, and I should probably go."
"Nuh uh, no way," Peter grabs her hand again, interlocking their fingers firmly. "You can't just leave me after that. Besides, I'll heal way better if you're here with me."
She purses her lips, as if seriously debating it for a moment. "You will heal better if I'm not..."
"Fine, fine, no more making out—well tonight at least, because I definitely want more of that later," Peter interrupts, waggling his eyebrows at her, causing Gamora to roll her eyes, but she's still smiling. "But at the very least you can cuddle with me all night."
Gamora sighs, and Peter can tell she's torn with indecision, that she doesn't want to leave him but that she also wants him to rest and heal. "I don't know, Peter..."
"Gamora, please," Peter gives her what he hopes are his best puppy dog eyes, because he's way past playing fair at this point, his voice soft and pleading. "Stay."
There's something about what he says that seems to instantly change her mind. She freezes, looking at him intensely, something deep and unreadable in her eyes.
Then she nods, smiling softly at him, before conceding and curling up against his uninjured side in the bed without further argument. Peter quickly scoots over to allow her more room, not even caring when pain flares across his wound once again. Nothing is going to stop him from the chance of having Gamora in the same bed as him—even if it's a tiny hospital bed.
She presses closer to him, her head against his shoulder and her arm looping around his waist, holding him as though she will never let go. Peter lets his head drop down and rest against her forehead, sighing in contentment as he gently strokes the skin of her arm around him. He's been waiting for this for so long from her, it doesn't even feel real.
It was so worth the wait.
And even though he's in a cramped hospital bed with a blaster wound in his chest and sensors beeping all around him, Peter has never slept better in his entire life.
I know technically the Milano was destroyed in Vol. 2-but let's just pretend they fixed it up yet again for this chapter.
Thanks for reading! Chapter 4 should be coming soon-ish.