DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from Guardians of the Galaxy, either in its movie or comic incarnation. I own any OC I can invent, though. I am not making a £ out of this. It is just for shits and giggles.

Thanks to , Raptowen and diarmour for their reviews and to all the people who faved/followed this fic. You guys are amazing!
Raptowen, I'm seriously thinking about implementing your suggestion in a later chapter.

Warnings: this chapter contains mostly fluff and angst.

Enjoy, and please don't shout at me!

Ronan wakes up to the soft sound of Peter's Terran music.
It's not an uncommon occurence in his new life with the Guardians. Peter loves music and plays it in all sorts of occasions, not always appropriately.
In time, Ronan has grown to love it too, at least some of it, to the point of knowing the words of some songs by heart even before he knew what they meant, and of singing them along, under his breath, while performing his chores on the Milano.
It is a reassuring sound, it is like a piece of home, and it keeps him calm even as if the rest of his sensorial inputs do their best to disorient him and his recollections of the immediate past are vague and hazy. He barely remembers what happened before he fell asleep. His thoughts are sluggish and unfocused, as if he had been badly concussed, but his head doesn't hurt.

He is lying on a bed, in a place that smells like disinfectant. Some kind of machine is quietly beeping next to the bed, and if he concentrates, he can feel some sort of drip or cannula taped against the back of his left hand.
His body feels numb and heavy. He knows he should be in pain, but the feeling is remote from him, detached, unimportant. Two thoughts pop into his mind. One is that he must have been injured quite seriously, the other is that wherever he is, they have some very good painkillers.
He is in a hospital, that much is clear, but where?
He tries to open his eyes and spy his surroundings, only to find out that he can't. They are kept shut with some kind of gauze pad. Most of his face is rigid with banadages, as are his torso and forearms. What the hell has happened to him?

Warm, slightly rough hands press against his shoulders, preventing him from trying to sit up.
"Shhh... it's alright bluebell. You're safe." Peter whispers.
Instinctively, Ronan raises his right hand towards his voice and tries to take hold of him. He must miss wildly, but one of Peter's hands tangles with his and guides it towards the Terran's face.
Ronan feels warm, soft skin with a hint of prickly stubble, and slides his fingers all over Peter's handsome face, to reassure himself that he is whole and uninjured. Here and there he can feel the slight ridge of a graze or minor cut, but it is nothing serious. He lets out a sigh of relief.
"Peter... mery..." he rasps. His throat feels raw and parched, so dry that speaking nearly hurts.
"I'm here." Peter reassures. He sits on the edge of the bed, as close as possible to Ronan. He bets Peter needs reassurance too.
"It's alright..." Peter says but his voice betrays him. He is not alright. He still sounds scared and worried.
"Here, have some water." he offers. Something hard and cool presses against his lips, probably the egde of a glass, and Peter holds his head up as he takes a tentative sip. It is just water, but it tastes heavenly and he drinks some more, almost greedily. He had not realised he was so thirsty.
"That's enough for now. - Peter decrees after a moment, taking the glass away. - I'll give you more later. I don't want to make you sick." he adds gently.
Ronan acquiesces without protest. He is feeling thirsty, but he knows they are probably giving him IV hydration, so he can do without more water for a little while.

"Where...? Where are we? I..." he asks instead, slightly worried by his inability to remember how he got injured. Judging from how bad he is feeling now, it must have been a pretty memorable experience. Has his memory been permanently damaged? Or is he still in shock?
"We are at the hospital, in Lakedaimon." Peter replies.
"Oh..." Ronan says. Flashes of memories shower his mind, most of them unpleasant.
Fire and pain, Peter dying, Gamora dying, the fire-bombs and Thanos... a whimper escapes him at the thought and he tangles his fingers in Peter's hair in his blind need for something to hold on to.

No, he tells himself, Peter is here. He is alive, and whole. His face is perfect as it always was, he has felt it... and his voice, and his scent... it is all real.
The things he saw in the Temple... they were illusions, created by Everyman to break him. They don't matter.
He has defeated that servant of isfet, killed him, splattered his twisted brains all over the floor of the Temple. The bombs have been found and used against Thanos. Ma'at still reigns. They have won.
This is real.

"It's okay. It's alright if you don't remember everything. - Peter whispers, placing his warm hand over Ronan's - The doctors said you'd wake up confused and disoriented. It's because of the drugs they gave you." he explains.
"I... I do remember. - Ronan whispers - I thought I had lost you." he adds.
"I am not going anywhere without you." Peter retorts, leaning towards him.
Ronan feels his warm breath on the un-bandaged bits of his face, then Peter presses their lips together. It's a soft, gentle kiss, but Ronan needs him more than he needs air to breathe. He tries to deepen the kiss and the burns on his face stretch and sting under the bandages but he doesn't care. He only cares that Peter is there. He is never, ever going to let go of either of his meryw ever again.

"Where is Gamora?" he asks when they finally separate. Their hands are entwined on the sheets and neither seems to be intentioned to disentangle them.
"Coffe run. She left literally seconds before you woke up." Peter replies, gliding the fingers of his other hand on the few bits of his skin left uncovered by bandages. The drugs numb even that feeling, but not completely, not enough to prevent him from shivering in delight.
Peter stops. "I... sorry. I didn't..." he stammers apologetically, misunderstanding his reaction.
"Don't. You're not hurting me. - Ronan whispers - It feels good. Don't stop. Please..." he nearly whines.
He wants to do the same to Peter, but there are far too many clothes in the way, layers and layers, and he doesn't like that. He wants to feel him, wrap himself in his warmth and scent and just bask in them for a while.
Groping blindly, he manages to untuck Peter's shirt and slide a hand underneath it.
It will do, for now, he tells himself, resisting the impulse of trying to get him out of his bloody shirt and jacket and sating his hunger for contact and reassurance.

" You are so beautiful, Peter Quill... - he whispers - I wish I could look at you... at least one more time." he adds wistfully.
He remembers he could still see, after he had killed Everyman. His sight was somewhat blurry however, and now the doctors have decided to bandage his eyes shut... concepts like delayed tissue damage and actinic burns pass through his mind.
There is a non-zero possibility that he might have lost his sight because of what Everyman did to him. The possibility however doesn't scare him remotely as much as losing Peter and Gamora.
He can learn to live without his sight, or get some cybernetics wired in and step back into the fray, but there would have been no way for him to cope with a loss of that magnitude.

"You will. You haven't lost your sight, bluebell. - Peter reassures him, tracing his fingers over Ronan's brow - The doctors said the tissue close to the burns around your eyes was very irritated and they didn't want you to rub it, or scratch it when you awoke. It's going to be alright, promise." he adds softly, bending to place a kiss on his brow.
Ronan sighs in relief and tilts his head, searching for another kiss, which promptly arrives.
"Then, as soon as we are out of here, I will strip you naked, and feast my eyes upon your fair form." he whispers, lightly scratching his fingernails under Peter's shirt.
The Terran gasps slightly. It is a heavenly sound. He can't help wanting to hear him make more. Slipping his other hand under Peter's shirt seems like the most viable plan to give them both the solace they need.

The door opens. Ronan stops in his tracks for a moment, and turns towards the sound, for all the good that it can do to him at the moment.
"Peter, I've..." Gamora starts quietly, only to stop in her tracks with a sharp intake of breath.
"You are awake!" she exclaims. There is a sound like something has been hastily deposited on a hard surface, then fast steps, then Gamora sits on the edge of the bed on the other side of Ronan and her warm hands are on him. He takes his own out of Peter's shirt, and slides them over her warm, smooth skin, up her arms and back and up to her lovely, unblemished face.
Real. Also real and whole, he reassures himself, sighing in relief.

"Oh, gods, I was so worried... - she whispers, taking one of his hands and kissing it almost reverently - The doctors said you were going to be alright, but you wouldn't wake up..." she explains. Her voice is brittle, and something wet drips on his knuckles.
"I'll be fine, merit. - Ronan rasps, wiping her tears off her face by touch only. - As long as you two are safe, and here with me, I will always be fine." he reassures her.
"I don't want to lose you. Neither of you two." Gamora whispers. Ronan feels the bed shift and imagines that she must have leaned across the bed to hold Peter at the same time.
"No one here is going to lose anyone. - Peter declares but his voice feels a bit shaky - We'll pull this stunt off, and then we'll live free, together, until we're all old, and grey, and totally bored of each other." he adds.
"This is never going to happen. - Gamora replies, marginally more cheerful - You are too crazy to ever become boring." she explains.
Peter forces a laugh.
"And at the rate we're going, I doubt we'll live to forty anyway..." he quips, but his joke feels forced and there is an undercurrent of genuine worry in his words.

"He knows. Thanos knows about us. - Ronan reveals - Everyman showed me illusions. You... you died in them. His minions killed you." he adds, and even if he knows that it has never really happened, his voice trembles nonetheless, and tears prickle his eyes under the bandages.
Peter reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
"It's over now. He's dead. We all made it." he says quietly but steadily.
"I know... but it seemed so real... And it hurt so much..." Ronan sobs. He feels his composure fraying under the raw fear of what those illusions had shown him, and he can't stop seeing them die now.
"Thanos is not going to stop trying. I don't know how I could live without you... I just wanted to... end." he confesses.

He can't control those thoughts, like on the day when he broke down on the Milano, a year and change before.
Back then he didn't know how to stop it. Now he does, and even if he knows it will hurt, he pushes himself up from the bed and blindly reaches out, grasping. His wounds flash with pain, maybe tear open. He doesn't care.
Gentle hands guide him once more, and he buries his face in the crook of Peter's neck as they both sob and tremble like children after a nightmare. Peter's arms wrap around him, holding him close, and he clenches his hands on the Terran's jacket as if it was a lifeline. Somehow Gamora manages to plaster herself against his uninjured back. Her breasts press against his shoulder-blades, her breath is hot on his neck, coming in convulsive sobs. She is crying too, scared and worried almost beyond words. Tears trickle down his back and Ronan wishes there was a way for them to be able to hold each other as tight as possible.

"Don't you dare try to push us away because you don't want to put us on the line. - Gamora whispers threateningly - Thanos wants to kill us all anyway. I don't want to buy myself a few more days of life if the price is losing you." she declares between sobs.
Ronan shakes his head, as much as he can without headbutting Peter.
"I can't, even though I know I should. - he confesses - I can't face existing without you. You have kindled new life in my heart. Without you, I am empty, incomplete."
"I love you, guys... - Peter sobs - I fucking love you. However long we have left, we are going to be together. All three of us, whatever happen. To the end."
Ronan nods, shamelessly nuzzling into his neck. For the first time in his life, he has something beyond his duty, beyond fighting. He wants to see the end of war, he wants to know what peace feels like and he wants to discover it with them, but if it is Pama's will that he is to die, dying by their side doesn't seem a bad end either. Who cares if the time of their happiness will be measured in days or years? It will be perfect bliss regardless.

It is a long time before any of them calms down enough to stop sobbing, but eventually they end up curled as much as they can in the narrow hospital bed.
"The doctors will have a massive fit if they see us like this." Peter comments, but doesn't even try to move.
"Let them. We needed this." Ronan retorts, sleepily tracing Gamora's features. She has nearly fallen asleep, and Ronan would give anything to watch her. He can almost imagine a half-smile on her face. She is so beautiful.
"Yeah. We definitely did. - Peter confirms - I have barely slept for the last three days, and Gamora had it even worse. She hasn't closed her eyes for a minute." he reveals.
"Three days... - Ronan comments - I didn't realise I had slept so long."
"You weren't really sleeping. - Peter retorts - It was more like a coma. You were barely breathing, and your heartrate and temperature dropped like crazy. It looked like you were..." Peter cannot finish the sentence. His voice catches and he takes a deep, trembling breath.
Ronan somehow manages to turn around towards him without pushing Gamora out of the bed.
"It's alright Peter. - he reassures him - It's normal when one of my people gets badly injured. It's part of the healing process." he explains.
Peter takes another deep breath and presses a light kiss to his lips.
"I know now. Some of your ex-buddies told us that it was a Kree thing and that we shouldn't worry. - he replies - They were surprisingly supportive, considering that we are... what did they say? Ketchup? Cashew?" he adds.
"Kashw. It means foreigners. - Ronan explains - It's a respectful word."
"Better than barbarians?" Peter teases.
"Much better." Ronan confirms.
"They're not too terrible, your people. At least some of them. - Peter comments quietly - Some of the guys came to visit, you know? They were worried about you." he reveals.
"Oh. That's... nice." Ronan comments, a bit surprised that they have been so cavalierly ignoring the fact that he had been struck from the rolls. But then again, Nechtan approached him in public, where everyone could see, even if just to make sure that the Guardians weren't raping and torturing him.

"There is this kid, Marrek of House Vell, the one you ordered to protect Nova Prime..." Peter comments with a hint of laughter.
"What did he do?" Ronan asks, slightly worried.
"He hasn't stopped. He doesn't leave her alone for a moment. - Peter reveals - He insists that you have appointed him as her what's the word? Foster-kinsman? What does that even mean?" he laughs.
"It used to be a honorary position that entailed protecting someone as if the appointee was one of their warrior kinsmen. - Ronan explains, slightly baffled - It used to be a way of fostering good relations between Houses. But I'm sure I haven't..." he protests, but stops in his tracks, falling silent for a moment.

"I might have said something that could be construed as that. - he admits eventually, much to his chagrin - It was just to shut Nova Prime up and get her out of the way. I don't have the authority to order anything to anyone. Not legally..." he adds, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Well, either Marrek believes you have, or he is a passive-aggressive little shit and is just trying to wind Nova Prime up. - Peter points out cheerfully - I am betting on a combination of both." he adds.
"Is it working?" Ronan asks failing to keep the amusement out of his voice.
"Oh, yes... - Peter replies - He is driving her around the bend. He follows her everywhere like a lost puppy, and he is so damn helpful and cute that she struggles to stay aloof. It's amazingly fun to watch." he reveals.
Ronan finds himself chuckling at the idea. He'd pay to see Nova Prime caught in an uncomfortable situation.
"Just wait a couple of days until the doctors take all those bandages off your face, and then don't laugh too hard, or you'll give him away." Peter advises.
"Oh, no. I wouldn't dare! - Ronan laughs - I'd never betray a comrade." he adds, before he thinks his words through.

"No. He's not... I mean... - he stammers, instantly regretting them - You Guardians are my comrades. He is nothing to me." he backpedals.
"It's alright, bluebell. - Peter reassures him quietly, giving him a quick peck on the lips - They are your people, no matter the legalities. It's alright for you to feel kinship with them. We are not jealous, promise."
"They are not my kin anymore." Ronan retorts sullenly.
"Oh, come on! It's just a formality they can't even follow themselves. - Peter objects - They came here because they care about you. They still look up to you, bluebell." he adds gently.
"Well, they should not! - Ronan retorts irately - I was a broken thing. I only brought shame and disgrace upon the Kree!" he protests.
A second pair of warm hands alights on his shoulder and Gamora's sleepy voice resonates in his ears.
"When you served Thanos, yes, my love. We all did terrible things because of him. - she says - But that's not all there was to your life." she adds.
Ronan tries to object, but she silences with a finger pressed on his lips.
"They talked to us, your former comrades. They shared their stories with us. - she reveals - They said that you were brave, and fair, and selfless, that you were distant and aloof and maybe a bit of an asshole, as Peter would say, but you looked out for your men, you cared for your people. They know as much."
Ronan doesn't know what to say to those words. They are comforting and unsettling at the same time. He doesn't feel like he deserves praise for what he then perceived as just his duty. It was a duty he carried out with pride and passionate dedition, but a duty nonetheless. He did care, but abstractly. Not like he does now.

"You did wrong, it is true. I was there, right beside you, every step of the way. - she adds softly, her breath hot against her neck - I saw you fall, but since you came to live with us, I have also seen you rise above and beyond what you were. You are no longer the man you were before. Everyone has noticed." she adds.
"I know. They didn't seem thrilled." Ronan objects, thinking back on his disastrous chat with Nechtan.
"They were worried about you. About us hurting you. They know you have been through enough already. - Peter retorts - And yes, a few of them are rather speciesist, but, on average, the Xandarians and even the Spartoi are no better. It must have something to do with being part of an Empire." he muses.

"Lady Derdriyu came to talk to us about our... relationship, this morning." Gamora says
"Oh yes! - Peter confirms - She gave us a hell of a shovel talk." he continues cheerfully.
"And then her blessing." Gamora adds.
Ronan would have blinked in surprise if he had been able to.
"What...?" he stammers.
"A shovel talk? It's something you do to the partners of your offspring. - Peter explains - It's like: I have a shovel and two acres of land. If you hurt my son, daughter, whatever... no one will find you ever again... Or something like that." he trails off.
"I know what a shovel talk is, Peter. - Ronan points out, piqued - I just... Did she... did she really bless us... what we have together?" he asks, failing to hide his astonishment.
He feels Peter shrug against him.
"She said it was strange and more than a bit questionable, but she did." he confirms.
"Lady Derdriyu cares about you. She just wanted to make sure we did too. - Gamora chimes in - She said she is glad that you have stopped living only for the dead, and started to live for real."

Those words... Derdriyu had advised him to do so many times over the years of their acquaintance, but Ronan had always dismissed her advice as the platitudes of a sheltered person who is only dimly aware of what the world is really like.
He had been too tangled up with traditions and expectations, and with his inability to deal with his loss to see the wisdom of her words.
Only now he can appreciate it.
It's not that he has forgotten his family, or that he doesn't care about the victims of the Great Fires anymore, but it is no longer the only thing that matters.

"If I have, it is because of you. You saved me: the two of you, Drax, Rocket and Groot. You gave me something to live for." Ronan whispers, feeling tears prickle his eyes again.
Peter kisses him once more. "You did most of it, bluebell. - he says - We just gave you the chance to do it." he adds, rubbing the tip of his nose against Ronan's.

Ronan sighs, caught between bliss and wistfulness.
"I am so happy with you... - he confesses - I wish I was a free man, so I could pledge myself to you in front of gods and mortals. Forever, for how long it might last." he declares.
"You will be. - Peter promises, squeezing his hand gently - My dad has petitioned to the Council that you should be freed, and Lady Derdriyu has spoken in your favour too."
"And Loki too, for all that helped. - Gamora sighs - He seems to have a knack for irritating people." she comments.
"And Cathair Fyiero didn't object?" Ronan asks. It would be surprising. Fyiero is a Xandarian catspaw, he would sooner side with Nova Prime than with Derdriyu.
"Your former Head of Council? - Gamora enquires - He is no longer in office. The Accusers caught him taking bribes from a Xandarian lobby group and sent him in chains to Xandar. He is in jail, now." she reveals.
"And will stay there for a while, by the looks of it." Peter adds, sounding pleased.
"Oh, Pama! - Ronan exclaims - That's why Nova Prime looked so angry."
"Yep! Exactly! It's just a matter of time, now. - Peter confirms - Nova Prime is still pushing the other way, but she is pretty much alone and she'll cave in, eventually. After what you've done at the Temple, saving her life and all, she cannot push too hard or she'll look like an ungrateful cow." he concludes.
Overwhelmed by too many revelations Ronan doesn't really manage to feel anything but confused.
"What is this Council you are talking about, anyway?"

Peter shrugs.
"They called it the Security Council. - he replies - It is like a club for those who want to bust Thanos' arse. All of the heads of state who were at the wedding are in it. Soon they'll agree on the plan and we'll be in our merry way to kick some butt all together in harmony." he explains with his usual irreverence.
"It seems like I missed a lot of action in the three days I have spent out of combat..." Ronan says, a bit awed by how fast things have evolved.
"And you don't know half of it..." Peter teases.
"Then tell me." Ronan retorts, nuzzling into his neck.
"Of course we will, isn't it, Gamora?" Peter agrees.
Gamora makes a vague affirmative noise as she tries to nestle even closer to Ronan, nearly alseep again.
"You start talking, I'll help if you need it." she mumbles. It's likely that she will just fall asleep in a matter of moments.

Ronan feels wide awake, instead, better by the minute. He needs to be brought up to speed, because as soon as he is discharged, he'll step back into the arena and this time he wants to do things right.
Now he sees that his mission is not just demanding justice for the victims of past wrongs, but also to make sure that those wrongs are not repeated, that conflicts don't turn into slaughter, that never again a war is left to fester like that between Xandar and the Kree, that no more people are made as desperate as he was.
Justice has to be tempered with mercy, and while the past informs what people are and what they stand for, the future is what is really worth fighting for, a future like the one Helenai and Gladiator have envisioned.
For all of this, Thanos needs to be stopped. He will do his part and, Pama willing, he will see the Mad Titan fall.
There lies Ma'at, and, no matter how much he has changed, he is still its servant. Now more than ever.

"Alright. - Peter nods - Brace yourself, bluebell! Here we go: so we came out of that bloody temple, and..."