"He is injured." For some reason, Drax felt no reason to lie to the authority-demanding man that stood unwaveringly in front of the Guardians. Hadn't the humans proved to be worthy of themselves by now? He thought surely. Groot ceased chomping on the plant, moving his brick-shaped head to look towards the elevator, Rocket leaping from the leather couch to land protectively in front of the sentient tree.
"How so?"
Gamora disagreed with Drax, switching her gaze from the window to Tony, a question in her eyes. Didn't he know? It's his damn tower, she thought, irritated by the two men interrupting her thoughts. She was confronted with a straightforward question, unable to process much in how to respond to the man, though a part of her was beginning to grow tired of thinking fast.
"Uh, he's in my medical facility with something of a coma or whatever. Didn't I mention that?" The director spun on his heels, once again irritated, completely unfazed by Gamora's green skin and Drax's broad shoulders that were coated in maroon outlining.
"Why do you always insist on wasting my time with your games, Stark?" He barked, and with his trench coat flapping behind him, he began to storm back into the elevator.
"Hey! Baldie, she's the copilot." Rocket spat, now standing by Gamora's legs, pointing with his gun towards her face. For a moment, Fury couldn't decide if he should laugh, assert the insult, or ignore what he just saw and heard. Instead, he chose to simply address Gamora, his one eye probing hers like a microscope, tired of galloping around New York and Stark's tower and getting nowhere with anyone, human or alien.
"And who are you?"
"Gamora. I am the copilot." She quickly answered. "Why is this relevant? Has something happened to our captain?" She inquired almost too quickly, looking to Tony for an answer, eyes on fire.
"Not that I am aware of. However, your ship has activated some kind of defense apparatus that is preventing us from dislodging it from where it crash-landed. Do either one of you know how to unactivate it?" Fury questioned, pointing to the window.
Confused, Rocket spat, "I don't see a goddamned thing." He leaped onto the railing, and peeked out, Gamora following suit, keeping her eye on the two visitors. Groot slowly made his way over as did Drax. Sighing, Tony demanded for JARVIS to present Maria's live feed. The whole window projected became what they were trying to see, but it was not what they had wanted to see.
Gamora was correct,as she assured herself, and then realized her answer with dread as she turned to Fury.
"You see this button here?"
She nodded, letting her lean closer, eyes focusing on the dark, brown, circular button on the upper left corner that Peter nodded to.
"If we were inside the ship when that isolation-liquid comes out, then we could press it in case we were trapped and needed to get out. It can't be broken otherwise; that stuff is like, planet-dense material. I had to fix it when Yondu had it stolen several years ago, and he taught me all about this kind of stuff." Peter explained, pushing more blankets into the corner of the cockpit. He didn't enjoy recalling his bittersweet memories with Yondu, for he wasn't exactly a father figure. Whether it was a slap on the head or a lesson on stealing, he didn't exactly consider the blue ravager a family member.
"But what if we aren't in the ship? How would we get back in?" Gamora questioned.
"Oh. Well that's captain's secret. I can't tell you that because whoever knows will immediately have a terrible curse placed on them." He joked, trying to sound serious as he sat back down in his seat, pressing a few orange and red buttons casually, glancing out of the window.
"What's the curse?" Playing along, Gamora turned to her side, doing the same fluently in time with Peter's motions.
"It's the one where you are so good-looking that it's criminal." Struggling to hold in his smile, he pretended to exhale as if to imply he already had it.
"You should tell me anyways; I'm the co-pilot, I need to make sacrifices that could save our asses in the future."
Peter looked at her, still trying to suppress a smile. "Okay then, but I must warn you, I think you already have it."
She blushed, but didn't look back at him. He continued anyways, pressing more buttons to angle his ship.
"I have a button on my person that will allow it to fall if I'm close enough to it when or after it activates. It will always work because it only releases a chemical that causes the material to fall apart, but like I said, only if I'm close enough to it." He finally turned serious, and Gamora fully turned her chair around to face him. He noticed immediately, and finally beamed at her, his teeth almost glowing from the sun as they ascended from yet another planet.
They were only on a simple task to pick up a part for the ship that Groot had accidentally broken. He had chosen the wrong time to stand, and when Peter and Gamora warned of a sharp left in escaping fleets of attackers, he slammed into the wall controls near the branched hallways, causing the ship to malfunction every so often.
Once, the air cooling system had stopped working, and they suffered a heat-wave in space, forcing them to land in a colder planet to cool down before taking off again. It was then that they all realized that they needed to replace the mainframe, and the current trip was the result.
'Why don't I have one?" She was asking gently, but was concerned. If the ship crash-landed, and Peter was hurt, how would she be able to separate him if somehow he was inside, injured, and the rest of the crew was not?
"There is only one. I didn't have a copilot when I made it."
"You made it?"
"Sure did." He was still beaming, but in the wrong way.
"You stole it from Yondu."
"Yeah." They both laughed, and Gamora had dropped the subject.
"Listen, I don't have the device that will deactivate the isolation substances, and I'm afraid I won't even be able to do anything about it until my partner wakes up, and is able to process things internally. Only he knows what and where it is."
"You don't know yourself? What kind of co-pilot are you?" Fury scolded, tilting his head condescendingly.
A selfish one, she thought bitterly. She could not help but feel just as infuriated as Fury was at her; all this time she had been selfish, under a misleading delusion that she could keep Peter safe and the rest of her beloved team after they had defeated Ronan, but here they were and it was her fault. She was too selfish, too guarded to recognize that she was losing her way and it was costing the entire team's safety, specifically Peter's.
"It was not something commonly used, and I know it exists with him, but if we search through any of the things he had on him after we crashed, I can tell you that only he will recognize it. You could blow up the ship if you try and use the wrong item." She warned, remembering that Peter was clever with his security precautions that were like booby-traps. Growing up unwanted and a victim, even his digital mask behind his ear had an electrifying shock that he installed if anyone but him attempted to remove it. She remembered when Rocket attempted to steal his mix-tape that was always securely guarded in his vintage player inside the Milano.
He had ended up with a swollen eye when a flying rubber band flew at him at a thousand miles an hour as he yanked the tape out of its cozy home.
Gamora was beginning to crumble under her own words. Not only was Peter at risk of potentially dying in his sleep, but he was still the only one who could remove the Guardians from this situation. In a grateful way she was glad that only Peter knew. This way, she was sure the ship could not be taken into the humans' possession.
Fury sighed, and ran his hand across his face, muttering something about "this getting better and better" as he began slowly pacing the space in front of the elevator door, eye fixed to the ground.
Gamora watched him, eyeing his firearm that was latched to his right thigh. She felt for her own knives, and felt more stable when the cool blades slid across her fingers.
Tony remained in between the two, unsure of who to watch; the Guardians were now gathered near Gamora as the director seemed to temporarily evacuate the entire situation itself mentally.
"Don't worry, he does this all the time when he can't figure out the next word to his daily crossword puzzle." Tony winked, and copied Gamora after quickly checking her out with a swift gaze from her boots to her long, slightly frazzled hair.
Gamora stepped backwards, closer to her fellow team members, turning back to them with a warning gaze of sternness.
"Why don't you have that device?" Rocket snarled, putting his arms in the air moving closer to her.
"It wasn't important at the time of when he was talking about it." She whispered furiously back.
"Well it is now!" Rocket huffed, and grabbed his head, as if trying to squeeze out a formula for a difficult math problem. Suddenly, he whipped his head up, brown eyes flickering from the Director, Tony, and then Gamora.
"I think I can figure out some sort of chemical that will work to dissolve that stuff if I can get closer to it." He finally said. Just as Gamora was about to voice her opinion against it, Fury spoke up.
"My forces have contained the ship for now, and I suggest that you remain at Stark's tower for the time being until we can get our analysts to figure this out, since none of you are seemingly that close to the real pilot to understand how it works."
Thinking quickly, Gamora motioned for him to stop as the odd pair began moving back into the elevator.
"Wait. I think we may have an idea of how to fix this. I have an offer to make."
Fury almost looked as if he was going to say 'hell no', and continue his way into the elevator until he studied the group for a moment, thinking it over in his head. Rocket growled in protest, throwing her a death-glare that she ignored.
"If we disable the ship's defense coating device within the next few days, you don't take it in captivity so we can fix and exit this planet Earth with our pilot, unharmed, and we'll be out of your business for good."
"Yeah, if you don't send another portal to kill us all afterwards." Rocket added, and was about to say more about his involvement until the director spoke first.
"How do you plan of fixing it?" Fury ignored Rocket, but glowered at him for a long moment as he questioned.
"We have the experience in using the ship in the first place, and can attempt to synthesize a chemical to dissolve it." She gestured to Rocket, who yet again scoffed, mouth agape. Everyone ignored his reactions, and continued.
"Attempt? How do I know that you are telling the truth, and that this isn't some plan to blow us all up?" Tony remained silent, curious to hear what possible concoction could be made to break apart the indestructible substance.
"You don't, but why would we when you have our pilot?" Gamora countered, her words making her crumble even more inside.
After consideration that lasted for what felt like hours of awkward silence, Fury nodded to Tony, who minimized the images of the ship, and began to make his way to the ship, ears still pricked.
"Tomorrow, I will have one of my agents guide you to your vessel, and then we will discuss what further actions need to be taken. Do not leave this tower, or I will be forced to assume that you have malicious intentions, and will therefore be treated as hostile enemies." With that, he backed into the elevator, Stark on his elbow as they stepped inside.
After the doors close shut, and they began descending the tower, Tony spoke up, texting Pepper with a speedy message that he was on his way.
"Why did you say 'tomorrow?'" Tony asked, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at his handheld. There are aliens in New York, and he doesn't want to shoo them out now? He thought with confusion.
"Have you ever been transported to another galaxy, Stark?"
"Well technically-"
"The reason why this is being postponed until tomorrow is because I doubt they are ready to think straight as engineers and as a team. They just got sucked away from their home thanks to your machine into our pitiful, hanging-by-a-thread planet, and it would not surprise me that they are in the least bit traumatized, and rather upset with you."
He had stated the fact as if it were obvious. There was no compassion, no sympathy, just the cold-hard reality. He wanted this done smoothly but if the estranged aliens were put up to the task in their current state, he pictured horrific scenes of a debacle commencing from being on-edge of late, and he certainly knew that New York did not need another fight among the Avengers and more foreign outcasts. Things had taken a turn for the worst and with all of the intensity, Fury only requested that their new "friends" to be able to work efficiently and quickly.
Anthony wondered how the Director could be so unaffected by the aliens' strange ethnicity, but then again, he was not surprised at all.
"Great idea. Now I'll have a big ugly tree trying to strangle me in my sleep while the raccoon makes a mess in the kitchen. Great."
"You have only yourself and the doctor to thank for that." Fury countered, and the elevator blinked to indicate their arrival to the ground floor. Fury stepped out, and Tony sighed, pressing a button that would send him to this garage.
"What did you do that for? I'm battle-strategy smart but what if I can't create this complex, 'found nowhere but on Peter' of a chemical? These humans are too slow to have even developed the products I would need!" Rocket seethed, scrambling up Groot's long arms to meet Gamora's eye level. Drax only backed off, sensing another fight, and beginning to contract something of a headache.
"It's our only way out of here. What else was I supposed to do?"
"Just let him go and take us to the ship, you moron!" He retorted, waving his arms around in time with his swishing tail. Rocket was an expert at not only weaponry, but other areas of study. He was not an expert in chemicals and biological studies, but knew enough to make a bomb, and to dissolve the isolation liquid Peter had implanted in the ship years ago.
"And do what? Just further prove how useless we are in this entire situation?!" She screeched. Storming past all of the Guardians, she strode to the other end of the room, hair flying behind her like slender black flames that licked her shoulders and neck.
Overwhelmed, grieving, and still mentally battling herself about whether to trust the Avengers, she crammed her eyes shut, trying hopelessly to block out everything. She wished this wasn't happening.
She wished Rocket would quit his asshole-attitude.
She wished Groot would speak up for once and defend her.
She wished Drax was the copilot, and not her.
She wished she hadn't fallen in love with Peter, because now, more than the whole galaxy itself, she wanted him here with her. She longed to feel his arms around her, whispering his witty, seductive methods of persuading her to hug him back when she stiffly stood there to tease him. She wished that he would walk in now at this very moment, fully recovered, red jacket zipped up to his perfect form, feet twirling and stepping to his favorite songs on his mix tapes.
She wished the Peter Jason Quill was here to guide her through all of this, leading them out of the cell-like tower and back into the freedom of space, where only the stars had the right to glare and observe their every move.
"I am Groot?" Groot quietly had strode over to her, eyes probing. His branches rested on her shoulders, pushing her hair to her left side of her shoulders, just as Peter did. She recognized the gesture, and turned around to face Groot with fearful eyes, realizing painfully how vulnerable she probably looked. In fact, she hated being this frustrated. Taking on the position of helping Peter had been easier, and much less demanding in every day action; now, trying to do it all herself was proving to be a very difficult job, one that she never dreamed she could succeed at, especially now.
Giving the tree a long gaze of gratefulness, she silently shook her head, and patted his hands. His warm smile made her heart flutter as he hummed in comfort.
The others watched, and soon joined their struggling copilot.
"I'm sorry. I've been a jerk, letting my useless emotions grab me by the balls." Rocket apologized, throwing his gun on the couch before stepping onto Groot's arm to be lifted up to Gamora's height.
"I'm honestly just scared shitless. I don't know whether to shoot these bastards, or just screw it all knowing that Peter is in their hands, and the ship is as good as gone." He admitted, and dipped his head.
Gamora replied, understandingly, "It's not your fault, Rocket. We're all still a little scared, and we all need rest and time to recuperate. You don't need to say your sorry. I've been such a selfish copilot, trying to spend time with Peter has clouded my sense of duties as a leading member of this team, and now I'm paying the price for it."
"No, you're not. We understand, and these things can't be predicted, Gamora." Drax comforted from where he was standing near Groot's other side.
"You're right; we require time to simply recollect ourselves, and continue to get through this without Peter, for now." He concluded, and met each other his friends' gazes before adding, "I'm sure that when he wakes up, he will be proud of us all for figuring through this in the end."
"Technically I'm a copilot too. I know just as much as you do, and it's been my responsibility too, I suppose." Rocket had at first been more experienced than Gamora, but after a few weeks, she soon gained more experience, the controls feeling natural to her, and she began to enjoy maneuvering the ship almost more than Rocket did. She had been the main co-captain as she never wasted a moment with Peter in doing so.
Now, it seems as if it had all been a distant dream that she would never experience again.
The others nodded, and suddenly, they all felt older. A great responsibility and pressure to push through the next few days was impeding on all of them, and it was clear that with or without Peter, they would all do what it takes to try and return to Xandar, to their old lives as soon as possible, making the Avengers enemies or allies along the way.
Tony picked up Pepper, speeding through traffic lights and slower zones as usual, Happy far behind as he trickled along to the speed limits. Tony briefed her very quickly on the situation, and as they flew straight into the elevator, he advised her to stay in the upper levels, keeping a distance from the Guardians. She protested of course, still upset that he was treating her like a robot that would "sit and stay" wherever it should be.
"I'm not telling you to plant yourself in one spot, I just don't think you want the wicked witch of the west strangling you while you patrol the tower." He said sarcastically, studying at the guardians on a monitor. Pepper behind him and standing on the left side of the massive bed, marking with a fountain pen inside of a leather notepad.
"She can't possibly be like-"
"Metaphor, Pepper. I honestly don't trust them as much as my fellow scientist, but I doubt they will leave that room" He turned off the screen, and faced Pepper, who was still in her professional clothing, clutching the notepad once more as if she never left Tony's side when she first confronted him in the workshop.
"I know that you are skeptical, and I am too, but honestly, from what you told me in the car, I don't think they are here to kill us. They look just like you and others," she gently remarked, referring the "others" as the Avengers. "And they seem to be something of a family, or a team, or...something." She walked closer to him, setting the pad down on the bed. Placing her hands on his shoulders once again, she searched his eyes, knowing that there would never be fear or almost any sort of emotion, but assurance.
"Tony."
"That's me."
"You have to promise me that after this, you will not build anything else like this, period. This really is not safe, nor normal, to be honest. Even for you." She almost sounded condescending, as if Fury had told her relay the message. However, she was only deeply concerned that even after any of this settled, and hopefully the mysterious pilot was ready to fix the ship that Tony would only see this as a gateway-invention of what his limits weren't, and she feared that he would go for something bigger that would destroy the entire city, and not just one park.
"Unless I need to bring an army to help us defeat another attack that was not caused by me, then you have a done deal." Tony smiled, and backed away from her embrace, as she replied, "I'm still angry at you, you know. Sitting in the safe-house with Happy was unnecessary, despite what happened. He was running around the house and windows like a creeper, or something, whispering through a stupid mini walkie-talkie he gave me, claiming to 'get down under the bed in case the walls were compromised'." She frowned, recalling the rather annoying experience she had with the head of security.
Tony only continued bringing up screens in attempts to do research on the foreigners, smiling to himself as he replied, "Well, maybe he has a crush on you."
"Or he needs to stop dousing himself in his own worry-water." Pepper grabbed the notepad and kissed Tony on the cheek before stepping into the elevator.
"Hey wait-"
Pepper pressed the button and descended, calling Happy to inform him that she was going to Washington DC for yet another meeting with a shareholder, only telling him that "everything is fine, for now".
Tony watched her go with a slump, recognizing that this was her way of rebelling. He exhaled forcefully and brought up a monitor on the side under all of his pulled-up pages, watching her gracefully step outside, Happy opening the car door for her, both cars speeding away with the unseen suitcase in the trunk that Tony had already packed for her.
Happy wasn't driving her to the airport to do to Washington DC, but to an out-of-state safe-house that was located in Boston.
"Boy is she going to be mad."
This is crazy, Steve thought with a grimace as he threw more well-aimed punches at the punching bag. It was not long ago when he was in the exact same spot, pondering nearly the same things with growing hysteria, only this time, it was as if nothing had changed.
There are foreign invaders upstairs! He thought with even more of a blood-curling internal grumble. He kicked the sand-packed bag to the floor, frustrated with himself.
Do I trust them?
They don't seem like the killing-types...
What are they, even?
Are they somewhat human?
Shouldn't I talk to them?
They are the enemies! They are tricking you!
Did Loki send them?
Am I sleeping in the same building as them?!
Steve growled out loud, shaking his head as he attempted to deal with his ongoing mental struggle. One side of him was completely neutral with the idea of a tree, a talking raccoon, an assassin in green, and a monster in grey staying in the same building with them. They hadn't fired a single bullet, slit one throat, or harmed any of them in any way ever since they had arrived.
But have they before? He thought darkly, trying to push images out of his usually-clear head of what would happen if they somehow got loose like a bunch of animals, slaying every one of his-
Stop, he told himself. Stop! You're being irrational. There is no way that this is going to happen; they may be scared or angry, but so far, they seem to care for each other like we do. His one half was so sure of itself.
Then why am I still fighting myself about this? He sighed, sitting down in front of the other broken punching bags that were scattered in roughly the same spot near the opposite wall of where he was working out.
His other half was still incredibly skeptical of them entirely. They did this on purpose, he snarled internally at himself. They are here for a set purpose, and not all of them would have made it if it weren't so. We need to act now and inform the Director that they should be locked up until the time being. It repeated like a steady song reeling in his mind of well-oiled gears and cogs.
But they are still living beings. Surely they don't need to be locked up? Steve sighed heavily, remembering when things like this would only be in his dreams, and he would be thankful that situation like this could never happen. But there is an entire galaxy and universe that contains other species like these...
The captain began to pick up his mess, sweeping the sand and tossing the broken bags into a dumpster-sized trash can that was regularly emptied when Steve was in the makeshift gym. He continued to grumble to himself, so conflicted and caught in his own web of emotions that he didn't realize that Bruce had walked into the room, wearing a humorous outfit that Steve assumed were his working-out clothes.
In fact, it was so outstanding that it silenced his thoughts for just a moment as he stared at him, smirking lightly.
"What?" Bruce asked, arms twitching upwards as he raised his eyebrows. He was wearing white, worn-out tennis shoes with grey socks that scrunched at the bottom in a crinkled fashion. His white shorts were just above his knees, as if they were too short for him, and his matching t-shirt that looked much like Steve's old military ones was too large for him in the chest, giving him a failed-recruit look. His hair was pushed upwards with a grey headband, making his forehead seem larger compared to his head, as if he was wearing prosthetics.
Steve only chuckled, and replied, "You look even dorkier than I usually do with that get-up, doctor." Bruce gazed at himself, and sighed, rolling his head around, running a hand through his thick, mousy hair.
"I had thought no one was going to be down here."
"Well, I'm glad you did, because maybe you being here can distract me from tearing my own head apart."
Bruce only smiled knowingly, understanding the feeling.
"Shoot." He added, sitting down across the room on a wooden bench that creaked as he did so. Bruce sat up straight, eager to listen as a friend.
"I've been thinking about what everyone else in this madhouse has been thinking about for the last hour, and I can't come to the decision of whether to trust those...people, or to get the suit on and kick some butt." The tall captain sat down too, unwrapping his bandages on his knuckles, waiting to hear what the professional had to advise. He was surprised at how easily the words came out, but knew that after thinking so long about it, he didn't have to filter what needed to be said and what didn't.
"Me too. But being a bit of an alien myself, it's like I said before: I doubt they are really here to kill us, and if they were, then I think they would have done so already."
"The other half of me is the one you need to convince." He finished folding the gauze, and leaned back onto a support beam that the opposite bench was bolted to. He gazed at the ground, suddenly fatigued.
"I know, and it's easier for me to say, I suppose."
"What do you mean?"
"You're a soldier, Steve. You always have that strong instinct to not trust foreigners, don't you? I don't. Hell, I'm just a wimpy scientist."
"Wimpy is hardly the word I would use to describe what you did for us when Loki was here." Pause.
"Well, in terms of instinct in the human form, it's the one that comes to mind." Bruce studied Steve carefully, watching his gaze drag down to the concrete as if the answer was there for him, but hidden in plain sight.
"Ever since that day, I guess my mind just took in too much. Now, it's just split in half because one side isn't accustomed to New York being a gateway for aliens." Steve shrugged, meeting Bruce's eyes, nearly taken aback to find him staring.
"I see." He broke it, awkwardly taking interest in the treadmills behind Steve.
"If it makes you feel any better, Tony and I installed extra security precautions after Loki had attacked, so if things go South...well, I guess we have the upper hand." Despite his rather shaky statement, Steve knew it was true. Out of all the places where technology had taken over like an addiction, Anthony's tower was the hotspot, and was amazed at how far he could go into detail in securing the building, let alone one room.
"Yeah, I guess." A passive silence settled once more as the two thought about the next days, and what could possibly happen. Steve tried to picture all of them getting along, something comically cheesy such as eating dinner at a large table, but the other side of him smashed the too-perfect vision with a horrific scene of them all fighting on top of the table, at each others' throats with guns, roots, and knives, snarls and vicious remarks being thrown around like a game of dodge-ball.
"Do you think Fury will try to imprison them?"
"I hope not. Somehow, I doubt that will make anything better. They seem to be doing just fine being held upstairs." As if in a film, he waited for some type of commotion to signal that some sort of fight was going to break out and start a war, throwing away all of his previous words.
There was nothing but silence.
"I agree, but it won't be our decision. Tony updated me that they are supposed to stay here overnight, and possibly fix the ships' recently-activated defense apparatus of some sort."
"What do you mean?" Bruce updated Steve quickly, showing him images of the encased Milano. Steve raised his thin eyebrows, impressed.
"So that raccoon-thing is somehow going to...?"
"Make a solution to dissolve it? Yeah, I'm not sure. I don't know if it's going to work, this spaceship is not from here, and I think Fury just bought it so he doesn't have to throw them in some sort of jail." Steve agreed too, and with another sigh, he stood up, still conflicted beyond humanly possible.
"I think I am going for a walk. I need to think. Want to come with me? Maybe dressed in something a little less..."
"Nerdy? Sure." He stood up as well, following the captain out of the lower floors and down the various hallways to the garage. Letting Stark know that they were leaving along with the others, they headed out, eager to escape the infested tower.
Gamora breathed heavily, recalling Drax's words and her own in her head. We require time to simply recollect ourselves, and continue to get through this ourselves, without Peter, for now. She sat on her bed, all of the Guardians in their respective rooms, each pondering about the future, and what lie ahead.
Will we need to fight?
How can we trust them?
Can we escape as unscathed as we came here?
Is there even a need to escape?
What would happen if they needed to be taken into a prison?
Are they in some sort of a prison now?
Gamora tried to organize her thoughts like priorities. Which made more sense to figure out? Which were vital in answering first?
She closed her eyes, but reopened them when a stunningly-clear image of Peter appeared in his red blazer, smiling and pretending to shoot her with his fingers pointed at her like guns playfully.
Gasping, she stood up, and shoved the image away. I need to focus. Focus! She steadied herself, and bore her gaze into the wall, deep in thought.
I need to trust these Terrans. They are our only chance of getting back to Xandar, and they seem peaceful enough. They haven't tried to kill us, nor herd us into some prison, yet.
The last word switched her mind from one side to another like turning off a light, her dark thoughts surfacing. If they are waiting for some sort of appropriate time, then we need to be ready. What if they try to kidnap one of us while we sleep? Should we sleep? Would we need to stand guard at the elevator tonight?
After debating with herself, she knew the answer was that they simply needed to wait, and not necessarily do what they are told, but to obey cautiously. She knew that this internal struggle could not continue long, otherwise, they would never make it to where they needed to go: away.
Man, this blows, I thought bitterly. I tapped my gun protectively, wary of some idiot jumping from under the bed or something and taking it away from me, which won't ever happen because I'm too much of a badass, not a clumsy-ass. Why aren't we trying to break out of this prison like we did at the Kyln?
I slung my heavy weapon onto my back, peeking through the tall window, studying all of these stupid, glass buildings that looked so unstable. There was much less walking around done, compared to other planets. Everyone was driving these big ugly four-wheelers that trapped all of the air inside, making them feel cramped. I scowled out loud, recalling my glorious car-ride with those losers.
They even wear seat-belts in day-to-day driving? What the hell? I was punished for my thoughts by a wave of guilt. Peter wasn't wearing his out of his anger at me, and I hadn't told the damn idiot to put it back on before he got himself killed. Now, Gamora is probably going to kill me when we get out of this clusterfuck of a situation. Of course I felt bad-heck, I felt like I would rather be in that bed than Peter. I was a crappy co-pilot, and Peter would at least know what to do. I can't even think straight with all of these strange scents and thick-skinned assholes on my butt every time I talk. Haven't they ever heard something speak before?
I closed the blinds, scoffing at how plain and stupid humans seemed to be. This...fur-like shit on the ground must suck in all of the dirt and dust; why is this here? Although I was impressed only slightly at the technology that short guy pulled moments ago with the one-eye, I was still astonished they don't seem to travel by space whatsoever. What, they thought they were the center of the goddamned universe?
I walked back out to where the couch was, catching Groot munching on the tiny plant again that was barely as big as me.
"What-ah well, I don't give a crap. Munch away you big crack-head." I waved away his confused gaze, and jumped onto the kitchen counter, trying to think of what I might need for the chemical for the Milano.
Acid, acid, more acid...
Drax looked out of window, staring at all of the lights, cars, and human-made roads. Compared to other planets, everything here seemed so...underdeveloped? Drax scoffed, and looked around his room with mild interest. Picking up the bed with one hand, he peered under it, then set it down gently as his boots made slight tracks in the carpet. Opening the bathroom door, he peaked inside, nearly breaking the doorknob as he leaned on it while looking inside.
Every object is so neatly arranged, he thought with another huff.
Closing the door, he gazed at the too-large dresser with curiosity, but confusion.
Why is this so big? Who had this much stuff? Are they for weapons and armor? He pulled open the drawers, their emptiness further confusing him. It must be for other Terrans...He concluded, slamming them shut with unintended force. Drax was not as conflicted as the other Guardians, to his surprise. He was sure that if they had not harmed them, threatened them with physical force, nor attacked them then the skies were clear, and no real threat was for sure. He continuously catches the others in deep thoughts from their strained looks and stiff posture, most likely thinking about whether to trust the Avengers, but he was already so sure.
Why were they overthinking this so much? No one was allies, that was for sure, but they were a team, just like the Guardians, so they had common ground, despite being from different planets and galaxies entirely.
Drax explored his room for a few moments longer, pulling the empty closet open and squeezing the massive pillows before walking out of his cramped room. He met Rocket and Groot lounging around the couch, Rocket currently scolding the tree for something unintelligible, yet again. Gamora was nowhere to be seen, so he guessed that she had locked herself into her domain, thinking not just about Peter.
Walking right up to Rocket and the sentient tree, who was giving Rocket a pair of confused, wide, black-eyed stare, he asked bluntly, "Do you trust these Terrans completely?"
Rocket stopped his scolding, and Groot nodded, smiling at Drax. He looked to Rocket, who only crossed his arms and snarled, whiskers twitching as his tail swished back and forth aggressively. "Sort 'ah. They're a bunch of ass-wipes, but they don't seem too bad. But I swear if one of them pulls out a weapon, I'll blow them to kingdom come." He pumped his fist into this palm, making a satisfying 'thlank' sound as he spoke.
"I am Groot?"
"She's in her chambers. I think she needs more time than all of us. There must be a lot in her mind.'' Drax answered, eating more fruit from the fridge. He tossed more to Rocket as Groot shoved three apples into his mouth, stretching his limbs to raid the food storage device.
"I think we need to talk to them. At least establish a name-to-name basis. We can't just make them think we hate them, and need to be hostile about their stay." Bruce sipped his coffee, enjoying the sharp scent that filled his nostrils, clearing his mind. Steve picked at his pie, and placed the fork down gently, the 'clink' barely resonating from the booth.
They both sat at a corner of a cafe around the block of the tower, not far from it in case anything happened. For Steve and the doctor, it was as good of an escape a hero could receive. They breathed in the calm atmosphere, watching people get on with their lives, almost wishing they were living one as well.
"Don't you think that might not end well?"
"We can't all talk to them at once, otherwise they might get the impression we are trying to ambush them." Bruce explained, swallowing his beverage, gazing out of this window instinctively, Steve doing the same, pushing his slice of half-eaten pie away.
"I can see your point. There is seven of us, and four of them. Five if you count the knocked-out one in the ward." Steve added awkwardly, taking a sip of his own beverage.
They had been discussing options as far as trying to get somewhere other than in the direction of "tense and hostile" for the past few minutes, enjoying the hospitality of each other's company and of the cafe itself. Bruce changed into his khakis and a button-up shirt with a light sweater pulled over it. Because it was in the middle of winter, Steve was wearing his windbreaker, its comfort hugging his muscular figure as he sported a dark hat to hide part of his face.
"Who is that guy anyways? I mean I know he is the pilot of that ship, but he's apparently-"
"Half-human?"
"Yeah. I'm curious to take a closer look at him when he's awake."
Steve turned himself to look at Bruce, raised eyebrows and a questioning expression planted on his rectangular face he asked, "Do you think he'll wake up in a full state of mind?"
"Maybe. I hope so because I'm really curious."
"Why don't you just look at him now?"
"Well, I try not to examine people when they're unconscious. It's creepy, awkward if they wake up, and I always considered it sort of rude. Plus, I can ask questions if I need to." Bruce admitted, and took another sip of coffee, muttering a 'thanks' to the waitress who had filled it seconds ago. He always kept his morals in check, despite the situation they were in.
"I see. I guess that makes sense. What if he wakes up a vegetable?"
"Then I guess we're out of luck." Bruce halfheartedly shrugged, but he hoped that would not happen, for the Avengers sake. If that pilot doesn't make it, we're in deep trouble with those aliens who like him, he thought darkly.
'If he does, do you think we'll have to...you know?" He lowered his voice. He hated killing in general, but if it came down to it, he knew what grief and loss does to someone, especially if it was technically caused by someone else. He knew that vengeance was something that was hardly stopped without some sort of sacrifice, and he was not prepared to even consider what that might be.
"I can always hope, captain, but at this point, no option is impossible." They both agreed silently and left the cafe with generous tips and more friendly nods to the staff, both holding the rooted hope that all of this would simply pass over in a few days.
As the Avengers and Guardians both battled internally about their counterparts, they eventually settled at the tower at one point. As night began to grasp the skies, and the clouds parted to reveal the minuscule stars, the Guardians began to grow restless after remaining in the tower as the Avengers grew tired of avoiding the Guardians, pretending to carry on daily activities and avoid the subject, once in a while discussing options, but still leaving the subject hanging in the air.
Pepper spent several minutes unleashing her wrath upon Tony about his stunt before she left, and had taken it out on Happy later, who could only shrug pathetically and nod in the background. At one point during the heated conversation, Anthony thought her hair would burst into flames, eyes turning into black orbs as she set him on fire from where he stood in his suite.
"I'm just saying, we could sneak down and just shake him a little, maybe even pull some of his hair out, you know?" Rocket proposed, discussing breaking out of the room for the upteenth time.
"Rocket, we need to stay here if we are to earn these humans' trust. Besides, we don't know our way around here." She tried to remember the walk from where Tony had led them, but it seemed like days ago.
"I never thought I would say this to you, but you have absol-"
Rocket was interrupted by an elevator door opening. Two men stepped out, one rather short, the other taller and built like a soldier.
The Guardians stared, analyzing them like enemies, but not with harsh glares. Steve stepped closer, hands out of his pockets as the scientist did the same.
"We're just here to...talk." At first, Steve completely regretted the idea as he stood there thinking he sounded stupid, wanting to turn back around and slide into the elevator. Bruce thought the same thing, but they continued because the awkward silence was becoming far too dense.
"What for?" Gamora asked, standing from the couch, hair now wrapped in a tight ponytail.
Steve briefly took in her perfect curves and leather pants before answering almost too quickly, "Just to... draw a baseline for understanding each other?"
The Guardians exchanged baffled looks. Although restless and ready for action, they thought this sounded almost as stupid as it did suspicious. Why would they only send two? Where were the rest of their friends? Drax thought along with Gamora.
"Our other friends are still in the tower, but we just wanted to talk to you alone." Bruce added quickly, trying to smile and salvage the proposal. He only ended up sporting more of a grimace and had to admit that he felt a little strange, just waltzing in, offering to sit down and chat, but he and Steve could not think of a better alternative.
"We promise we're just here to socialize as equal beings." Steve commented, earning a grateful glance from the doctor. Rocket growled and then scurried his way over to the pair, staring up at them defiantly, spine stretching as tall as it would go, teeth bared.
"If you even think about calling me a rodent, vermin, or any other stupid name, then I will throw you and your friend here out of the window like taking out the trash, understand?" He threatened, pointing at the glass with ferocity.
Steve and Bruce raised their eyebrows, but both agreed, trying not to smirk.
Rocket backed up towards Groot, never taking his eyes off of the strange pair, and asked, "Well, are you going to sit down or just stand there like a bunch of losers?"
This is going to be fun, Steve thought. They trudged to the long couch, the Guardians sitting on the opposite side, Groot lounging in a large chair that faced them directly, like a therapist.
"So, what do you want to know?" Drax asked, placing his elbows on his knees, hands folded, training his steely gaze on them, much like a therapist as well.
They started off asking simple questions; where they were from, what they did, and who they specifically were the first to become exchanged. Steve and Bruce were able to piece together that they were just like themselves, but instead of peace-keeping on Earth, they did so in the entire galaxy. The mood significantly lightened after Bruce and Steve explained that they did the same thing as the Guardians, but on Earth, keeping track of imbalances that went off on SHEILD's radar every so often.
However, although the Guardians felt a little closer to the Avengers with the sharing of free and open confirmation, the mood took a dip when Tony's creation was mentioned.
"About a year ago, we had a guy named Loki from Asgard who sought to bring war on Earth, and claim to be its king. As a security measure, Tony and I had built this device as a sort of 'window', so to speak, to keep an eye on any place in the universe. I realize now that it would be pointless, given that we don't even know the planets other than our own solar system, which apparently is a fraction of is really out there." Bruce admitted guiltily, Steve only frowned slightly, but added, "It wasn't their fault. Tony is ambitious and although a genius-"
"Wait, what? A genius?" Rocket scoffed, walking closer from where he sat next to Gamora on the couch.
"He sure doesn't sound like one. Why is he so sugar-coated all of a sudden?" Rocket inquired, his usual grit in his voice apparent.
"He created a new element and as you can probably tell, has a way with technology. This tower is the most advanced example in safe energy and efficient power, and is the only place on Earth where an artificial intelligence serves as a host." Bruce explained with a small shrug. He had explained earlier what JARVIS was, and therefore it was now fully understood any confusion that Drax had as to why Tony would talk to his ceiling, or the walls.
"Ha, yeah right. You have no idea how advanced things are everywhere else. You guys may be close, but you're still way behind." Rocket huffed, and crossed his arms.
"I hear you are going to fix your ship. Do you have a plan?" Steve asked, forehead creased.
"To be honest pretty boy, I doubt this rock of a planet has what I need. Even if I did make it, there wouldn't be enough to dislodge the ship's opening to get inside and disable it. There's also probably no power in that thing, now that it's crashed. "
Steve ignored the insult and looked to Bruce for reassurance, but he only shrugged, agreeing that it was probably true. From what he had heard so far, even the air they breathe was different, let alone any substances people drank, used, or ate. Gamora and Drax had asked why they felt so heavy, and Bruce guess that it was because of the gravity changes based on where she had explained they had come from.
"Then what is the solution to all of this?" Steve looked around, and no one had a straight answer. The issue of trust was now evaporated, as the doctor and captain established common ground, and knew now that the "aliens" and the Avengers were one in the same, fighting for a common purpose; they just happened to land on the right side of the galaxy, and into somewhat welcoming arms.
"We need to wait for our pilot, Peter Quill, to get his ass up from that bed." Rocket growled, unfolding his arms and pointing below him.
"That's his name, Peter Quill? How can he possibly be...not a full human?" Bruce asked, leaning forward expectantly, trying not to use the word 'alien'.
"We're not sure. His father is nowhere to be found, and we were searching for him when we were abducted into here." Drax answered, sensing Gamora's comfort level depleting.
"I am Groot." The tree made a gesture with his hands as if making a rainbow over his head with both palms.
"He is supposed to be from an ancient race that is pretty powerful, but I guess his human side is taking the blame for his injuries this time around." Rocket translated.
"So will he be fine?"
"Maybe. He held the infinity stone for quite a long time, so one would think he could withstand a blow to the head, and a bone injury." Drax answered quietly. They all took turns explaining how they stopped Ronan, and what the infinity stones were, and how powerful they were and how they had saved Peter by joining hands. They had earned a reputation for being the most powerful team in the galaxy but obviously, not all corners of all galaxies had received the news.
The clock read 10:42 pm. They had been talking for at least two hours.
Gamora found it almost funny that he had injured his pelvis, as she recalled the first time he let her listen to his treasured player, claiming it was sorcery. She supposed he would not be able to dance for a while if he had a hole in him, such as this. She hadn't spoken as much as the others, only listening intently, watching the pair of "Avengers", as they called themselves.
She stood up abruptly, and then locked eyes shortly with her allies in the room. "I'm sorry. I'm uh...a little tired. I'm sorry." She turned away and strode quickly to her room, embarrassed as her cheeks flushed and her hair flayed behind her. Steve couldn't take his eyes off of her as she left in a hurry, concern etched onto his face.
Something inside of him stirred, something that hasn't stirred in a very long time. Bruce raised his eyebrows for what seemed like the tenth time today as he watched Steve for a moment before addressing the sitting tree, putting his anxious thoughts aside.
"Does he say anything other than that?"
"Nope. His vocabulary is the only thing that is stumped, but he's more than just some idiot of a tree. He's been my muscle for the past several years, even before I met these losers." Rocket explained as Groot blinked, frowning at Rocket for insulting the other Guardians.
Bruce chuckled, amazed; he could not believe this was happening! A talking space-alien that looked like a raccoon was here, translating what a massive, intelligent, walking plant was saying.
The Guardians did not share anything personal with the two heroes, just their basic background and history up to the crash. It was strange, not having Peter there because they knew he had the most to relay and share with his childish behavior that always found a way to be entertaining and yet completely sane. His absence was obvious, as if there was a gaping hole in their interlocking stories, which there was. They had all mentioned him more than once, but he was not there to serve as the link that was missing from their lives.
"Cool." Steve breathed, watching Groot with fascination. After a few more questions, mostly asking what Rocket was and what Drax had all over his body, in which he answered, 'tribal tattoos', and what they ate on a normal basis, Steve and Bruce declared that they were going to bed, claiming that it was late, apologizing for keeping the Guardians up late in an oddly friendly manner that he would never have guessed he would have pronounced in such a sincere way to such allies that were made in such few conversations.
It was strange for him, knowing that in just a few hours, they had become comfortable with the new foreigners, and how close they seemed after realized that they had so much in common. He remembered distinctly how she had told them what Peter said before they knew they were going to defeat Ronan for sure; they were all losers, but that day had given them a chance to care, and to unite as one to defeat the worst of all evils.
Both Steve and Bruce realized that they too, were losers. They had united and carried out the same actions to stop the misguided Loki, uniting gods, soldier, scientists, and technology-wit to defeat him and his army. Dancing was apparently a form of wit when outsmarting powerful foes, Steve thought humorously.
"We'll see you tomorrow, I guess?" Bruce awkwardly said as they left, leaving the Guardians where they sat, watching them leave tentatively.
"Tomorrow we shall." Drax answered, smiling. Rocket rolled his eyes at the brute, as Groot waved.
They both stepped into the elevator. Bruce remarked, amazed and not in the least bit tired, "That was different."
"Yeah..." Steve wasn't looking at him, but was studying the elevator doors, eyes distant rather than weary.
"Steve?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure." He nodded, blinking a few times, completely unaware of what the scientist asked. Bruce shot him a confused but teasing look of interest.
"Where you...checking out that gal with the green skin?" His face screwed up into a disbelieving smile, waiting with awe for the steadfast captain's response.
"You mean Gamora?"
"Yeah."
"No. She just...caught my attention for a second. I think it's just her dyed hair or-"
"Oh man, you were, weren't you?" Bruce nudged him with his elbow, turning to face him completely, a grin wider than his cheeks could handle.
"Man Steve, you have exotic tastes and you better hope that pilot doesn't wake up anytime soon." Bruce laughed, rocking on his heels as he watched Steve turn a cherry-like color, shrinking away while trying to deny it.
"No! I told you I think it's just the skin or maybe the hair or the way she wasn't so-"
"Steve, I gotta say, I am surprised. You don't seem like the alien-dating type." Bruce joked, still laughing as he almost fell over from snickering.
"I am not interested in her. Peggy is still mine and I will never betray her. Besides, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't leave that pilot either. Peter Quill, right?" He steadied himself, forcing his face to remain stone-like as his cheeks faded into normal colors again. Bruce shook his head, commenting, "I guess. She didn't look too happy back there."
No, she didn't, Steve thought sadly. The elevator indicated that Bruce had arrived to his corresponding floor, and Steve waved goodbye, thanking him for accompanying him. With a brief 'no problem', he strode down the hallway, hands in his trouser pockets, head dipped, as usual, still grinning.
Steve let the elevator doors close, but he didn't press the button to his floor.
What if...Steve almost slapped himself, attempting to plunge his own thoughts. You are not going to think this. Stop, you just thought she was hot for an alien, and that is it. She is in love with that Peter, and it will stay that way.
However, as Steve slammed his fingers into the corresponding button, he cursed at himself; as he thought about his last internal statement, his stomach flopped in jealousy.
This can't be happening to me.
The Guardians dispersed into their rooms, at first wanting to try and do something of sleeping, abruptly exhausted beyond what seemed physically possible.
Gamora sat in her room, arms crossed, standing as she stared out of the window, pretending to focus on the street lights. She knew now that the weight of deciding whether to trust the Avengers had been lifted, and though it was mostly resolved as well as he questioning of why she felt like a ton of bricks the moment she stepped onto Earth, she still felt like the gravity was going to pull her down into the depths of the planet, trapping her forever, away from her fellow Guardians, away from her home-galaxy, and away from Peter.
Peter. Starlord. The names rang in her mind like church bells, over and over their soft and powerful melodies bouncing around people's minds. She knew that being a leader meant looking out for her companions, making sure every tiny detail was in place before taking off or planning the next action, putting everyone else's needs before hers, and remaining stone-faced and emotionless as possible. She knew what emotion did to assassins like her; it made them soft, made them forget what their mission was and what they stood for. No connections, she always told herself, physical or emotional.
Don't look at them in the eyes, only when your blade passes through it.
You cannot see them for more than what they are, a criminal; a target.
No distractions, and most importantly, no communicating.
Despite her understanding of herself that she was no longer an assassin, she still considered herself failing at keeping them away from something like this, and she was only trying to remain above the vast ocean of guilt that wanted to pull her under like a crumbling, dull rock. Staying strong was and still is her most-developed skill-set, and it never wavered until she had met Peter. She knew that beyond the ship and the Guardians, her life was still incomplete, just as Peter's.
Her "sister", Nebula was still out for Thanos, and although her criminal record was no more, the guilt of killing many before Ronan weighed heavily on her, even before she had met Peter and the others. Even then, she barely held herself together, only using her self-hate to kill more, which she still couldn't process how her mind had been caught-up in that cycle.
She slammed her fist on the small night-stand to her right, leaving four large cracks that sprouted from where she came in contact with the mahogany. A single tear fell from her face as she closed her eyes. Furiously wiping it away with the same hand she sat back down, releasing her hair from the ponytail and grabbing it with both palms, digging her fingers in it as she began tugging, eyes closed tightly. Her tear made a dark spot on the light-brown carpet and she opened her eyes momentarily, staring at it with more loathe at herself and her actions than anything else.
She didn't even think about what would happen if Peter did not return. Just the thought still made her cringe, and made her want to flee the room to escape into the night air. She could still remember when she first met him. As soon as he backed away from the trader's entrance at the capitol of the Nova, she thought he was rather stunning for a human.
But even then, he was still a target. It was later in the Kyln when he was the only one who had the upper hand on her for just a moment as Drax held her at his vengeful fists, when something slammed into her harder than any punch, kick, slap, or flying object could ever do. At the time, she ignored it but eventually she succumbed, falling in love instantaneously with the infamous and mighty Starlord.
It scared her how fast it had all happened at first, but eventually they eased into something that seemed more powerful than any stone, it seemed. But now, what seemed even so perfect and solid was the chance that Peter would never be with her again, that he would never return to the peace-keeping role of Starlord, and never look at Gamora the same way again. One small action had caused the downfall of her relationship with him in just seconds, and she considered it was fate slapping her in the face, telling her that she was not simply allowed to be free of punishment of her past crimes.
Inhaling sharply, she once again sealed her brief cracking of her emotional shell, and instinctively walked out of the room, not wanting to stay in a small, confined area to sleep. Turning the doorknob gingerly, she opened it slowly, assuming all of her guardians were already asleep; she was wrong. They were spread out in the dimly-lit berth. She almost smiled, realizing that no one must have wanted to be separate, even for just a moment.
Groot's roots had grasped the end of the couch as he leaned his wide back against it, head dipped downwards. Rocket was splayed with his mouth open, whiskers twitching with each breath as he lay silently near Groot's left leg, behind the couch, closest to the elevator. Drax lay parallel to the coffee table, arms crossed, legs straight ahead as if he were to be put in a coffin. Gamora sat on the couch, feet towards Groot's branched-out limbs. Letting herself fall, she rested her head on the arm rest on the leather couch, closing her eyes as she fell rapidly into a deep sleep, Drax's rising chest the last thing she saw before letting darkness take over.
Water lapped at her face and clogged ears, slapping her pointed cheeks as the waves dragged her under. She could feel something pulling at her ankles. Gasping, she tried to search for land, trying to defy the ice-cold water that seeped into her nerves, almost paralyzing her. Trying to flap her arms in the black water to swim, she didn't see any land, ship, or vessel. No sign of life, only thunder and flashing lightning.
The dark, vicious water was trying to suck her under and into the depths as her mouth filled with sour-tasting water that made her lungs and throat burn, as if she was swallowing acid.
I am drowning! Help!
But she knew she didn't deserve help. More waves crashed onto her, forcing her head to snap backwards, liquid filling her nose and throat once more, her limbs proving to be useless against the force of the massive ocean. She was yanked under, watching the surface of the water move farther and farther away from her as he sunk, air flying out of her lungs as if the water stole it from her, punishing her for her lack of responsibility, for not settling Rocket and Peter's argument, for letting Peter die-
Gamora woke with a start, sitting straight up, gasping for air, her hands flying to her throat as she stood up, checking her pulse, her muscles, and her brain functions to make sure she was still alive. Still gasping, she looked towards the elevator, aware of the sun just starting to set.
She wondered how such a short, yet realistic nightmare could have carried her all through the night. The orange rays seemed weaker than what she had witnessed on other planets, but those worlds seemed far away, and she figured that it was still beautiful.
Pulling her hair into a ponytail once more, she didn't feel like sleeping, her beaded sweat still sticking to her shoulders and neck. She didn't even remember taking off her jacket, which lay on the ground near the coffee table. The others were still sleeping, and Groot's thin branches had spread to nearly half of the entire couch. Everyone was still in the exact same position as Gamora had remembered, soft snores indicating that no one had heard her. She blinked a few times, her heaviness sensation still new to her. She did not feel much better from yesterday, and she suddenly felt a strong urge to step into the elevator and visit Peter.
She did not want to risk crossing the temporary treaty they had with the Avengers, but it was a very strong urge. She shook her head and silently padded to the fridge instead, hunger clawing at her stomach rather abruptly, as if to distract her. Opening it, she realized that it was full again from last night, when they had emptied it entirely of its known contents. Curious as to who had filled it, she furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing an orange and peeling it with graceful movements of her knife, shutting it with her foot as quietly as she could, checking on her team members with scanning eyes.
Just then, the elevator doors slide open, and although it was silent, her hearing never betrayed her.
Steve walked quietly in the room, fully dressed, a large box in his hands that covered nearly his whole upper body. He peeked up from the brown object in his hands, eyes just peeking over the top edge of the box like a startled deer in the road. He stopped in his tracks, nearly dropping the box in the process.
Gamora only stared at him as an awkward yet peaceful silence fell as Steve set down the box, apples and other assortments of various foods nearly arranged, filling the box completely. It looked rather heavy, and Gamora took notice of his bulging arms as he did so, watching him carefully.
"Did I wake you?"