Thanos let her cut it out. The light of the fluorescents burns his retina but Peter doesn't close his eyes. He's laying on his back on a wooden table, inside the War Room. His eyes betrayed him and tears dripped onto the table mixing with the pool of his blood. His mouth burned with agonizing intensity. Your body could only process intense pain as burning. Proxima Midnight had worked slowly trying to draw out his punishment for as long as possible.

Thanos casts a long shadow over Peter, eclipsing by the fluorescents, "I am letting you off easy this time, for assisting with your sister's outburst. Do not expect me to be so lenient with you in the future. Under no circumstances are you allowed to skip your training." Thanos reached down and brushed Peter's hair out of his eyes. He recoiled from Thanos touch violently. "Am I understood, little songbird?"

"What? No, 'yes sir?" Proxima Midnight flashes teeth in something like a nasty smile.

Corvus sighs, "kids these days simply have no manners." Peter closed his eyes. Praying that he will fall unconscious from all the pain, but the cybernetic enhancements won't allow him even that small mercy.

Thanos tires of their antics and drifts from the room, leaving Peter alone with the Black Order. Ebony Maw chuckles and shakes his head at them. "No snarky reply either. Maybe you really broke the boy this time." Midnight makes the mistake of leaning over Peter. He spits blood into her eye.

Corvus and Ebony burst into uproarious laughter. "You insolent brat!" Midnight drives her knife into the table. Peter flinched, closing his eyes for a brief second. "I am going to enjoy breaking your wings songbird."

Someone clears their throat and knocks on the doorframe. "Ebony aren't you overseeing telekinetic training today?"

Ebony sighs, "Yes, I suppose so."

The Black Order slowly dispersed. Corvus and Midnight shuffle out of the room, Peter hears Midnight mutter under her breath, "lap dogs."

Peter let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Voros walks across the room to stand in front of Peter. "Oh Peter, " he whispers with pity, "not again."

Tears threatened to spill over and Peter rubbed at his eyes desperately. He chokes down a broken sob. He's struggling to breathe. Voros yanks Peter into a hug. And that was it. Peter broke down. He sobbed into Voros's chest, his shoulders shook as he wailed. Voros held him tightly. He ran his hand through Peter's hair, petting him gently. Peter doesn't know how long they sat there. He cried until there was nothing left. His eyes itched and his whole body ached but it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain in his mouth.

When Peter finally managed to pull himself together, Voros carefully scooped Peter up and carried him out of the War Room. Voros has to duck so he doesn't hit his head on the doorframe. He set Peter down in the bathroom, outside the shower. Voros warmed up the water for Peter, "I'll return with a towel and a change of clothes for you." He nodded and his older brother left him alone.

A wave of exhaustion sweeps over Peter. Simply taking off his bloodstain clothes is difficult now, but his pride won't let him ask Voros for help. Peter managed to get in the shower and scrub off the blood that's caked onto his skin. He uses more shampoo than necessary to get the blood out of his hair. Some of it gets in his eyes. There's more blood in his mouth, but it doesn't really matter. He can't taste anything anymore. The warm water soothes the ache in his chest. He felt a little better.

When Voros returned, Peter allows him to dry him off and help him get dressed. He's too tired to protest, and towel is warm and soft. Peter signs the word cabin at Voros and stretched out his arms. Voros picked him up again and carries Peter to his cabin. Peter pats Voros biceps, then he signs slowly with shaking hands. How are you this big? What are you eating, bricks?

Voros snorted, "If you're making jokes already, maybe you can walk." Peter cracks a small smile. He shakes his head vigorously and wraps his arms around his older brothers neck. He liked it when Voros spoiled him.

It would be months before the cybernetics could regrow Peter's tongue. Voros and Kekallie snuck Peter medication to help with the pain. Thanos might actually kill them if he knew Peter was getting medical attention for something that was supposed to be a punishment. Peter did what he was told, and tried not to draw attention to himself.

Two weeks passed uneventfully.

~~•˖✧•✯•✧˖•~~

Peter is five years old again. "Do you remember the words to Sweet Baby James?" His Mother smiled kindly at him, but there's something lurking beneath the surface. Fear, anger, pain. She's going to die soon.

"Uh-huh, " Peter nodded enthusiastically. She's carrying him through the forest towards their house, away from the school park. Away from the slaughter.

"I need you to close your eyes, and sing as loud as you can, okay Pete? It's going to be alright." That's a lie. A bullet hole blooms in the center of her forehead. Blood pours down her face, it turns her eyes red. Her expression twists in agony and horror. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. He starts to sing.

When he opens them again he's back at the park. Thanos' fleet of ships blots out sun casting his whole world into darkness. It sounds like distant thunder as they breach the atmosphere. There is smoke rising from the capital. The swing squeaks rhythmically. "Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep. But singing works just fine for me."

A red curtain unfurls at the edge of the park. Heather bursts through the center. Her eyes are wild with fear, her breathing is staggered. Peter hops off the swing and starts walking towards her, "Jellybean?"

She's on the verge of tears. "Peter! Someone's trying to break into my cabin! Neby still won't talk to me, and I–" something gives her pause. She wrinkled her brow, "I'm speaking English?"

By the time Peter reaches Heather's side, he's eight years old again. "All my dreams are in English." He explains and grabs her hand. "I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe it's one of the aprons trying to get your laundry."

"No! Their mind is darker! I'm scared, Peter," Heather insisted.

He sighs, "Okay, I'll come to check on you." Peter grabbed his blaster from his holster and they stepped through the curtain.

Peter sat bolt upright in bed and points his blaster at the door. He must have grabbed it in his sleep. He scrambles out of bed and slips into the hallway. He can barely see anything, but he knows these hallways well. Peter hears Heather scream. His training takes over. He moves quickly and quietly. He stays near the walls, keeping low to the ground.

A figure shrouded in darkness is struggling with Heather. They've managed to drag her out of her cabin. Heather makes a desperate gasp for air. Peter grits his teeth, he can't see anything. He can't get a clear shot. He unloads two rounds into the floor. The flash of light temporarily blinds him. Peter hears the other cabin doors open and light floods the hallway. Whoever was attacking Heather is long gone. "Peter for the light of our star!" Nebula groans and presses her forehead against the doorframe, "stop discharging your weapon inside!"

Peter ignores them. He returns his blaster to his holster and drops down besides Heather. There's a rope tied around her neck, she's coughing and gasping for air. She pulls at the rope frantically, desperate to remove it. He signs slowly, so Heather can understand: I'll help you. She stops moving long enough for Peter to cut the rope off with his pocket knife.

Heather crumpled into a ball, she clings to Peter's chest. Her voice sounds raw and scratchy, "Hurts." She manages to murmur between breaths. It has been a very hard month for her. He nods and rubs her back attempting to soothe her.

Nebula looks from the rope to Heather and clenches her fists. "What happened?" Peter shakes his head and signs a little faster: long story, bean first. Nebula lets out a sputtering sigh, "fine, but I'm not tucking her in."

Before Nebula can respond, Heather groans, "No, I can't go back in there. I can't, I can't, " She shakes her head and squeezes Peter tightly. He wipes away her tears with his thumb and signs: my cabin? "Yes, please."

Peter gives Nebula a pleading look and then looks back down at Heather. "Yeah, I got it. I got it." Nebula scoops up Heather with ease. Heather wraps her arms around Nebula's neck, resting her head on her shoulder. Peter smiles and trails behind them.

Nebula carries Heather back to Peter's cabin, before returning to bed. He grabs extra blankets and pillows from the closet. He pauses when he sees that Heather is laying on his bed. She has cocooned herself in his blankets. Peter drops the blankets. He shakes his head and stalks across the room. He signs at her deliberately and aggressively: my bed, get off. Heather pulls the blankets over her eyes so she can't see him signing. Peter groaned melodramatically and tried to pull the blankets off of her. It turns into a game of tug of war. Peter managed to yank the blankets away from her. He threw them on the floor to sign: I'm not sleeping on the floor. "That's too fast, I can't understand you," Heather whines.

Peter rolls his eyes and grabbed a pad of paper and pen off his desk. Heather takes the opportunity to snatch the blankets from the floor. Swaddled in blankets, Heather reads the note. "There's plenty of room on the bed with me." She pats the empty space next to her. Peter quickly scribbles out a response. "I'm not hogging all the blankets! There's plenty on the floor, " she says pointedly. Peter let out a defeated sigh. This was ridiculous. Clearly, Heather wasn't going to move and Peter wasn't about to sleep on the floor.

He reloads his blaster and leaves it on the bedside table, just in case he needed it. Peter turns off the lights and crawls into bed with Heather. She wraps her arms around his chest and nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. He lazily throws one arm over her. Just before he drifts off to sleep again he hears Heather whisper, "thank you."

~~•˖✧•✯•✧˖•~~

"Hatchling crushing, " Nebula says as she slides her tray down the buffet. "That's what they call it."

This has happened before? Peter raised his eyebrows as he signed. He aggressively stabbed some kind of fried meat and loaded it onto his plate.

"A few times, yeah, " Nebula shrugged casually like she was talking about the weather. "It's easier to kill kids like Heather before they've fully come into their powers. Take out the threat early before any more accidents happen." She drifts down the buffet picking at the food. "But dad tends to frown on that kind of thing. So it rarely happens in broad daylight."

Peter slammed his tray down at the next buffet to sign: you can't be certain our family tried to kill bean.

"No, I'm certain." Nebula nods sadly. "You need our security card to access the dorms in the off hours."

White coats don't.

She looks at him critically, "you mean the scientists working for dad? You seriously think they could take on one of us?"

Peter narrowed his eyes and signs faster: You don't know. Maybe there's a spy working to take down Thanos from the inside.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, " Nebula replies flatly. Peter folds his arms and narrows his eyes at her. Nebula wrinkles her nose at him, "you know what I meant."

You're afraid of the truth.

Nebula rolls her eyes. She points her fork at him, "You're the only one that's afraid! You know that no scientist has lasted more than a few months here. Hatchling crushing has been going on long before I was born." She turns and stalks away from him. She picks an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria to sit at. Peter jogs to catch up with her.

He sets his tray down next to Nebula and glances suspiciously at the servants. He signs: Maybe one of the aprons stole a card.

"Peter, " Nebula groans, and rubs her eyes. "You can't go anywhere without that card. If it was stolen you'd know immediately." Peter held up his hand to sign something but she continued, "And you can't make a copy without deactivating the original." Peter dropped his hands to the table. He looks at Nebula incredulously. "I wouldn't lie to you." She says quietly, dropping her gaze to her plate. "Not about this." He stood up abruptly and stormed away from her table.

Peter set his tray down next to Miertra in a huff. Kekallie glances up at him with concern, "something bothering you?" Peter sighed and slowly explained what had happened. She watches quietly, her usually happy demeanor fades away. She keeps her expression neutral, not revealing anything. When he finished signing, Kekallie takes a deep breath. "Peter, do you know how many children were in my bracket when I was your age?" He shrugged half-heartedly. "There was twelve of us… only me and Voros survived. Your chances of making it to sixteen are one out of six." The other kids at the table had gone quiet. Peter sat completely still. "I'm not trying to scare you, but you need to be aware of the reality of our situation. People are willing to do terrible, awful things to survive."

Peter glances across the cafeteria to where Heather was struggling to find a place to sit. Beans isn't dangerous, he signs slowly, our family wouldn't, they can't,

Miertra slams his mug on the table, startling Peter. "Heather killed Cauda. We aren't a family, Peter."

Peter sinks in his seat. The world is closing in around him. He feels his heart pounding in his chest. One of his siblings was trying to kill Heather and he had no idea what to do about it.