A/N: This chapter does reference my Lokyrie fic New Beginnings, but you don't need to read it to know what's going on.


"Captured?" Nova Prime exclaimed. Visible behind her was Denarian Dey, concern evident on his face.

Drax inclined his head. He sat at their table, with the used dishware moved elsewhere, his hands steepled together in front of him. It was a position often assumed by Peter, Gamora, and Loki when they were assigned this task, and he believed that he now understood why: It was a simple way to disguise the urge to clench one's fists.

"Indeed," he confirmed.

"All four of them? Even the prince?"

"We believe Loki to be their main target," Drax told her. "The man who aided in their capture hosted the women for some time, during which Beb was not quiet about her hatred for him."

Nova Prime blinked. "She never said a word about him in the prisons. What agenda does she have against Prince Loki?"

Drax tilted his head a little. "Loki is the one who mangled her face, wounding her such that Thanos cast her out and allowed your warriors to capture her."

Behind her, Dey's jaw worked, but Nova Prime just nodded in understanding. "Ah. When you rescue them, please give the prince my thanks for that."

Drax clamped his teeth down over his tongue, narrowly avoiding an outburst. Your thanks? It is because of that incident that he is currently missing, along with three more of my friends, and you wish to thank him? He did not even intend his actions to be some sort of gift to you!

Instead, after a deep breath, he said, "These three women are powerful and intelligent. We humbly request your assistance in attacking, once we locate them."

Nova Prime smiled, but it made Drax shift, for it did not seem genuine. "I am sorry, Drax, but I have no men to spare."

Drax leaned forward, his steepled hands forgetting they were not supposed to turn into fists, but it was Dey who spoke. "But, ma'am, we sent the Guardians-"

She held up a hand and he silenced himself. "The reason we called the Guardians was because we do not have the available manpower to chase down escapees. We have had to place extra guards in the prison they partially destroyed, and many more are overseeing prisoner transfers to undamaged buildings, and as those are lower-security buildings, they also need additional guards. I am truly sorry about your friends, but I must have faith that you three can handle this alone."

"Nova Prime-" Drax began heatedly.

"I wish you luck in recovering the others. But remember, the escapees are the priority. We cannot allow them to take any more lives. Nova Prime out," she said quickly, firmly.

The screen went black.

Drax stared at it a moment, fists curling tightly together as he processed the conversation. Processed her indifference. Processed his failure. Then, with a roar, he surged to his feet and slammed one fist into the wall.

Immediately, Rocket and Groot came darting in, taking in the black screen and shaking destroyer and new dent in the wall. "I am Groot?"

Rocket's shoulders slumped. "She said no, didn't she?"

Drax nodded sharply. "She explained that she had no available warriors. Even though Denarian Dey seemed to have qualms with that decision."

"Politicians," Rocket muttered. "Can't trust 'em. People like her love us, but she's been wary of actually helping ever since our plan got Sal and all the others blown up."

"Indeed," Drax grumbled. He took a few more deep breaths, like he had seen the other three do. This is the reason it is their job to do this, he thought. When the urge to punch had faded to a tolerable level, he inquired, "What progress have you made?"

"I'm almost done," Rocket replied, heading back to his supplies. Drax and Groot followed. "Shouldn't take more than a few hours, and in the meantime, I wanna talk about their motives."

"What is there to discuss?" Drax asked, settling on the floor as Rocket picked a piece of hardware from the piles scattered around him. "They escaped to capture Loki, did they not?"

"Beb did," Rocket agreed. "But there's gotta be something more. Kutral and Erebu have nothing to do with Loki, and as far as I can tell, they never had anything to do with Beb. Not enough to break out of prison to help her with her revenge."

"That is true," Drax realized, scratching his head. "How did they discover that he was traveling with us?"

"Exactly," Rocket said. "How did they know that drawing us out would bring him along? And why capture the others too? It's easier for four Guardians to escape than one."

"I am Groot," he suggested.

"An informant of some sort would make sense," Rocket said, dipping his head proudly to the teen. Groot straightened up, smiling. "But why those three? What's the connection?"

"They all want to escape prison," Drax said. It was obvious, he knew that, but he had to get the thought from his head so he could focus on others, puzzling through them aloud. "All three women have been jailed for many years now. Many of their former contacts would want nothing to do with them now that they have been exposed. The same could likely be said for anyone who would have hired Kutral and Erebu. However… large sums of money will tempt even the most paranoid of employers."

"And we're worth a lot of money," Rocket realized. "The bounty on our heads in the criminal world… Not to mention the heir to Asgard's throne… Mantis might be worth the least cause she doesn't fight much, but anyone would pay a fortune for Peter and Gamora. And Loki, if Beb lets them sell him off."

"I am Groot!" he exclaimed, pointing at something on the tablet he now held.

Drax leaned over, tilting the screen so he could read it. "Kutral and Erebu were cellmates for ten years. It is logical to assume they bonded, or at least discussed something about escaping. But they had Kutral in speed-suppressant bracelets, and strength-suppressant bracelets for Erebu, so they would have needed a third person to remove them so they could fight off their guards."

"And with her claws manicured right, Beb probably could've picked the locks!" Rocket finished.

"I am Groot?"

Drax nodded. "They are going to sell our friends. Perhaps all four, or just Peter, Gamora, and Mantis. At which point, the women will likely also take their new fortunes and split up."

Rocket attacked his upgrades with new urgency. "Which means I gotta work fast, so shut up, both of ya."

Groot and Drax exchanged miffed glances, but fell silent.

-MCU-

Loki stirred with a reluctant groan, but between the burns and gashes over his face, arms, and torso, he couldn't delve back into unconsciousness. Chilled air nipped at his shirtless torso, soothing the burns but making him shiver, but something leathery separated him from the hard ground below whatever it was. Someone was holding his wrist just above the cuff, dabbing gently at a wound on his forearm.

Wait. Why am I not alone? Who's cleaning me up?

Carefully, he cracked open his eyelids, just enough to peer through the lashes. In the dim lighting, he made out green skin, a face half-obscured by dark hair. He dared to open his eyes just a little bit more, details slowly sharpening as he stared at his companion. They looked familiar…

He bolted upright, ignoring the agony the abrupt movement caused, yanking his arm away from her. Everything from before his latest session came flooding back, the insane tale woven by- by Peter, and Mantis, and… Gamora.

She held her hands up now, a bloody cloth held in one. "I'm just taking care of your wounds," she said softly.

Loki looked down. There were bandages on his torso, stained by a little fresh blood, but evidently put on with care, aligned with each injury, no adhesive touching the wounds. Around Gamora's knees was a bowl of water, a pile of unused bandages and medical tape, and a pile of bloody cloths. Behind her, across the cell, Peter and Mantis slept, backs pressed together.

"They weren't allowed to help," Gamora explained quietly. "Beb stayed until they fell asleep. Now please lay down before you start bleeding again, you've already lost a lot of blood."

Cautiously, Loki did so, laying down with a strained grunt on what he now recognized as Peter's maroon trench coat. "Thank you," Gamora said, relieved, her hands still in the air. She nodded at his arm. "Can I continue?"

Loki's gaze landed on her throat, noticing the bruises and small wounds on it that matched his own. "You stood up for me," he remembered.

"Of course," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're my teammate, Loki. My friend."

He looked around the cell, roomy, cool instead of scorching, neither blindingly bright nor pitch black, with no Chitauri guards in sight. "And… this really isn't Thanos's place."

"No."

Loki looked up at her, hesitating a moment longer. Then he tilted his arm, offering it back to her. She smiled faintly, careful not to make any sudden moves as she resumed her work, her restraining touch even gentler now. She seemed content to work in silence, avoiding his gaze, but Loki had questions itching to escape his raw, aching throat.

"So I escaped Thanos by agreeing to do his bidding, getting locked up on Asgard, and then pretending to be dead. And then… we killed him. The four of us and a lot of others."

Gamora nodded. "Basically. It was a long, hard fight, and there were casualties, but… yeah. We won."

"How did you escape him?"

She paused, glancing fondly at Peter. "Him, partially. Thanos was going to use an Infinity Stone to help a Kree named Ronan destroy Xandar, and I… that was the final straw for me. I tried to steal the Stone for myself, and got tangled up with the other Guardians – except Mantis, she joined up later – in the process. And together, we saved Xandar." She chuckled. "With a dance-off, no less."

Loki raised an eyebrow, and she explained further. "Peter distracted Ronan by dancing while Rocket and Drax prepared to shoot him. It was so weird and unexpected that it actually worked."

Loki looked at him, the eccentric human who was supposedly his leader. "And how exactly did I end up with this team?"

Gamora set the cloth aside, reaching for more bandages. "Well, you helped save Earth, but you knew that the humans still wouldn't trust you, not really. Peter overheard you talking with Thor about it, and he figured you'd fit in fine with us, seeing as we're a bunch of ex-criminals too, so he invited you to come with us. Thor and Val encouraged it, so you agreed."

"Val?"

"Technically her name is Brunnhilde, but she goes by Valkyrie. Her friends call her Val. You call her Valki, sometimes, when you're feeling sappy."

"Valkyrie?" Loki exclaimed. "She's not-"

"She is," Gamora confirmed. "She was the sole survivor. You met her on Sakaar, a few weeks before Asgard was destroyed, and in the few weeks between then and Thanos's attack… the two of you fell in love."

"What?" Loki spluttered, propping himself up on one elbow to stare at Gamora. "I have a- what?"

Gamora smiled, gently pushing him back down. "You do. Outside of Thor, she's the one you call the most."

Loki looked off, digging through his mind. Surely he would remember that? But then, if he didn't remember Mother's death or reuniting with Thor… "What's she like?" he murmured.

"Badass," Gamora answered. "She's one of the bravest people I've had the priviledge of knowing. She loves drinking almost as much as she loves you, and she's loyal. Loyal to her friends, loyal to her people, loyal to you and Thor. You two have saved each other in a lot of ways. You're all lucky to have found each other."

"Sounds like it," Loki agreed quietly, still futilely searching for his memories.

"There," Gamora said, finishing up on his arm. She leaned forward, brushing his hair aside. "Damn, she had it in for your face," she observed, her fingers dancing around as she tried to find unburned skin to hold.

Loki snorted. "You don't have to tell me that."

"It makes sense, I guess, since she wants revenge for what you did to her face."

"I did that to her?"

"Yes. And she got kicked out of the fold and arrested because of it."

"Well, that explains a lot," Loki muttered, edging away from Gamora.

She let her hands fall to her side. "I don't suppose you could turn blue and heal them?"

Loki held up his cuffed hands. "Not with these on."

Gamora took hold of the cuffs, inspecting them. "Then I suppose we'll just have to get these off."