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[ closed ] there’s a room where the light won’t find you

who: ~~Star-Lord~~ Peter Quill and Gamora
what: when training goes wrong OR yer a wizard, Peter
when: early January
where: Perimeter Guard training facility
warnings: none yet!

[ It’s not that Peter isn’t a good fighter, really.

Because he is. He’s scrappy, and he’s tenacious, and he’s not afraid to fight dirty when he has to. The Ravagers taught him well, in that regard, if it could even be called teaching – how to time his shots, when to go for the nuts, shit like that. It’s worked well for him, for a long while. It’s how he’s gotten by for twenty-some-odd years out in the black, working on instinct and reflex and, when those failed him, a healthy application of gunfire and low blows. For the line of work he usually performed, it was fine.

Now, though, he’s saving galaxies and going up against zealots who might as well be as immovable as mountains. Now he’s going up against psychos who were practically immortal, who could manipulate the world around them to meet their whims. And one of these days, they’re going to go up against a megalomaniac with armies at his command, with warriors and assassins and about a zillion instruments of death at his fingertips.

So... you know. Jabbing out someone’s eyes probably isn’t going to get Peter very far, in the grand scheme of things.

If he’s honest, he’s not entirely sure what training up will do for him. It’ll make him faster, sure. Stronger, too, probably. But if he gets caught-out alone with one of Thanos’ generals? One of his other so-called children? Or, hell, the Mad Titan himself?

Being able to throw a slightly better punch isn’t going to help him much, is it?

But it was important to Gamora, for some reason, and the look of disappointment she had shot his way when he had initially refused had been like a stab in the gut. So here they are now: a former assassin and a former thief, training for a battle that may or may not happen, in the Perimeter Guard’s training facility. For once, they have the area to themselves – which is a goddamn blessing, because Gamora is basically beating the shit out of him. But, like, in a playful way. The sort of controlled, measured attacks of a cat toying with a mouse.

If he wasn’t so completely sure that Gamora was on his side, this time, he’d be flashing back to that sunny day on Xandar and running for the blasters he had left on a nearby bench.

And as it has almost every time before, it ends with Peter cursing as he hits the floor. ]

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[ Okay, Quill, he tells himself, scrubbing his face with his hands. Okay, Quill. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t— ]

How the hell should I know?!

[ —ah, okay. Looks like it’s yes, freak out, actually.

Peter clearly regrets the tone as soon as he snaps the answer back, though, and he winces. ]

Sorry. [ And he sounds sincere, at least, unlike his usual perfunctory apologies. The last thing he needs right now is to alienate the only person who would kind of understand why he’s freaking the fuck out. ] Sorry, I didn’t mean to—

[ His expression crumples around the edges, twisting as he nervously licks his lips. He tries to force himself to calm down, but it’s only marginally successful. Still, he manages a slightly more sedate response this time: ]

I don’t know. I haven’t— I have done that since...

[ And he swallows down the words. (They still haven’t really talked about any of that shit, have they? Vague mentions, here and there, but well over half a year later, and Peter still can’t bring himself to give voice to all the shit Ego told him, all the shit Ego did to him, all the shit Ego had done to ruin the lives of anyone who had the misfortune of meeting him.)

His hand twitches in a vague, truncated sort of gesture. ]

Since. You know.

[ Fortunately for Peter, the outburst doesn't take Gamora by surprise. She doesn't reel back or break contact, but keeps that her expression leveled out, unmoved. ]

That's what I assumed.

[ If Peter had, she feels like she would have seen it before now, or that he might have mentioned it. He obviously wouldn't be responding like this if it wasn't sudden and unexpected.

She hasn't pried, though; she hasn't been insistent or belligerent, because she's wanted Peter to have the chance to breathe and process on his own time. If he wanted to discuss it, she assumes he would share or that it would have come up, but she knows how sensitive it is. ]

Is that... how it was before?

Not— really.

[ Though he says it uncertainly. The first time Ego had coached him through summoning the light, it had felt more like an accident than anything. Like he had been stepping over a crack in the sidewalk all his life, and finally just stumbled on it. Then after that— yeah. He’d been enraged. Hurt and betrayed and reeling, terrified and desperate and racked with pain, and—

He cringes away from the memory near instantly.

But those times, he had purposefully tapped into it, had drawn it up like water from a well. This time was purely by accident, like he had tripped into a switch and suddenly it was just— there.

And he hated to admit it, but back on Ego’s planet, using the light had felt— right. It felt good, like a hot shower after being out in the cold, like flopping into bed after a long day. This, though, had felt like... nothing. And if anything, it had left him feeling weirdly strung out.

But maybe that’s because he’s on the verge of losing his shit over it.

Peter scrubs his face again, taking a shuddering breath.

Then, with feeling, ]

Fuck.

[ The answer isn't helpful, not really, but she doesn't exactly expect him to be right now. He's overwrought, wrung out, and considering the weight of this discovery, it makes sense.

She reaches across the space between them, resting a hand on his arm and rubbing her thumb across his wrist. ]

It could be because of this place. Perhaps the portal...?

[ She trails off, uncertain.

Different universes exist; different things are pulled through, so maybe, somehow, the Light had been brought through from another world?

... Would that mean that Ego came through?

But if the power felt different, worked differently, then maybe there's another source. ]

[ The same idea seems to strike him, but while Gamora discards it, Peter sits bolt upright, hands falling away from his face – though not quickly enough to dislodge Gamora’s grip. He turns to her, frantic and startled by the thought. ]

What if he’s here?

[ No point in clarifying – Peter had explained the source of the power only moments before they had argued in their quarters.

If the power came from Ego, and if Peter suddenly had those powers again—

There were folks who claimed they had been dead before they arrived, Peter thinks. Or folks who claimed to be near death before the Portal pulled them through so— what if Ego—?

Well, fuck. Peter’s definitely going to have to murder him again, isn’t he? Just when he was getting so used to his place, now he was going to have to deal with prison time. ]

Peter.

[ Insistent but firm as she sits up with him, keeping her hand in place. ]

Do you think he would have concealed his presence if he was?

[ Ego... wasn't subtle. And given how things had been left and what he'd wanted to use Peter for, she doubts he would have been secretive. ]

[ That gives him a bit of pause, and he chews on his lower lip uncertainly. ]

I mean, he might have.

[ He kept his existence a secret from the galaxy at large, after all. Keeping a low profile on a small moon might be difficult, but he could manage it, Peter thinks. ]

What if he's just— biding his time or something? Maybe he doesn't even know we're here.

It seems like he would make it his business to know if we were here or not.

[ Maybe he could be lying low, waiting for the right moment to strike, but— ]

We could look for him or check the Guard’s census records. They should have recorded another Celestial’s bioscan if he entered the Quarantine.

[ Ego’s presence might be an explanation for Peter’s sudden manifestation of his powers, but Gamora would prefer to rule that out first. ]

[ And once again, that's a much better plan than Peter had. Hell, any plan would have been better than Peter's, which basically amounted to calling that bastard out, staring him down until a fight broke out. Like he were some daredevil cowboy, spinning his guns and calling some bad guy out at high noon.

He gives her that same too-quick nod, sagging a little.

Softly, just the right side of audible, ]

What do we do if he is here?

[ They needed a crazy-strong bomb to kill him, last time. He doubts they can rig something up like that on short notice.

Doubts even more that the authorities in the Quarantine would be, like, cool with them killing folks. ]

[ That is a question she doesn't have an answer to. There's no easy solution, no simple way to solve the problem of Ego existing here with them.

She watches him quietly, levelly, before she speaks. ]

What do you want to do?

[ Well. She can also guess. ]

If he’s here, then we kill him.

[ And the answer is immediate, low and dangerous in a way Peter has never spoken before – at least, not around Gamora. They’ve both killed before, but for Peter more than anyone on the team, killing has always been a last resort. He doesn’t enjoy it – not like Rocket or Drax do – but he understands that sometimes, it’s necessary.

In this case, though? The answer is easy. They kill him before he can try to get a word in edgewise. They cut him down where he stands and hope that whatever bullshit the Portal used to bring him here didn’t also confer him his immortality.

But if it did, then Peter doesn’t mind trying again and again and again. Until it sticks. Until Peter’s satisfied. Whichever comes first.

(And Peter doubts he’ll ever be satisfied.) ]

[ As anticipated.

She agrees, of course, consequences be damned. Given who he is and what he's done, Ego can't simply be allowed to wander freely around the Quarantine, not after everything. Gamora would feel the same way about Thanos, if by some chance he came through the Portal, though... she would have less faith in her ability to handle him.

(Years of knowing how strong he is, years of knowing what he's capable of, years of fear and conditioning and—) ]

Then we should check.

[ So they can know. So they can deal with him, if they have to. ]

And if that isn't the case... we can look for another source.

[ He tries to swallow down that dark, twisty feeling, tries to force it away. (Because he doesn’t like that particular feeling. He had felt the full force of it on Ego’s planet, something wrathful and terrifying and blinding, that had him moving before he could even think.

“It broke my heart to put that tumor in her head.”

And Peter had snapped.)

He tries, but it doesn’t go away, and that ugly thing claws at his gut. His fingers itch again, that prickly feeling working its way up his spine, down his arms, and he winces when he starts to realize that’s a precursor to— the thing. The Light, or Light, Jr., or whatever the fuck this is. He tugs his wrist out of Gamora’s grip to cross his arms over his chest, tucking his hands away. ]

And how to get rid of it?

[ Though he doesn’t sound too convinced that that’s even a possibility. ]

[ Gamora is genuinely startled when Peter pulls away from her, and she blinks at him for a moment, confused, until she notices the way he tucks his hands out of the way, as he had in the training facility – like hiding them will keep the light at bay. She settles again, resting her hand on her own knee – within reach, if he changes his mind. ]

Yes.

[ But she at least adds the realistic stipulation, ]

If we can.

[ Because spontaneously gaining this power again might be outside of their control, with or without Ego's presence.

(The worst part of this is that she can see how much this is affecting Peter, and she can't do anything. That dark, flat certainty in his voice ("Then we kill him."), the way he fidgets, that look on his face...

She can't tame this.) ]

[ He looks apologetic when that flash of surprise crosses her face, but even with that silent offer, her hand still close by, he keeps his hands to himself, clenching them into tight fists. That staticky feeling turns to a low simmer, but he still feels it. And considering how off the rails he had gone back at the training facility, he doesn’t trust himself just yet.

He slumps a little, ducking his head and looking off to one side. ]

Maybe we should— call off training for a while.

[ Maybe in different circumstances, Gamora might be hurt by how he keeps himself cordoned off from her like this, but she also sees that apology in his eyes, and she gets it. That’s why she doesn’t push or insist, doesn’t even start to argue with his suggestion. ]

If you think that’s best.

[ It might be a good idea, but, on the other hand, ]

Or it could be a way to learn control, if this power is not reversible.

[ This, more tentatively, because she knows this isn’t what he wants to hear. ]

[ Yeah. That's the opposite of what he wants to hear, and he lifts his head to scowl – not at her, but definitely in her general direction. ]

I am not using this, Gamora.

I am not saying you should use it as something in your arsenal.

[ She tries to sound reassuring as she continues, ]

But you need to know that you can keep it in check.

[ Not like today – not like their training. ]

[ He grits his teeth, head bowing and shoulders hunching up around his ears. ]

... Sorry.

[ And he says it quietly, guiltily, because today had been – has been, is currently – weird. ]

I didn't mean to... That wasn't—

[ That wasn't me. Although it sort of had been, hadn't it? It was him getting frustrated, getting pissed, losing his fucking head. And sometimes Mom would laugh or sigh or shake her head when he came back from school with a black eye or a split lip, saying he had a temper just like his daddy.

And sometimes, in darker moments where he's alone with his thoughts, he wonders if maybe he's more like his father than Peter would like to think.

He grimaces down at the floor, finishes weakly, ]

... Sorry.

[ She watches Peter struggle for a moment, then sighs quietly, shifting closer to set her hand on the back of his neck – touch light, gentle, not trying to make him look at her, but offering a piece of reassurance. She isn't angry about what happened during their training, isn't even personally bothered; she's just worried about Peter, and she wants to know what's behind the sudden appearance of these powers.

But she doesn't hold it against him. ]

I know.

[ Just— "I know." ]

We will figure this out, Peter.

[ He swallows around the lump in his throat, letting out a soft breath as her hand comes to rest against the nape of his neck. It's a second or two before he finally slumps again, but this time, he lets himself lean into her, hands still tucked against his sides.

Then, softly, ]

This sucks.

[ Her arm slips gently around his shoulders, letting him keep his hands tucked where they want to be. ]

Yes, it does.

[ She's not even going to argue with him about that. But they also handle whatever comes their way, and this is going to be no exception. ]

What do you need?

[ Food? A nap? Menial idiots doing menial things on the television? ]

[ He huffs out a soft, self-deprecating sort of laugh. ]

A total do-over on today.

[ Which is completely out of the question, which is why he shakes his head soon afterward. ]

I dunno. It's not like there's an easy treatment that says "sorry your day sucked, and sorry your estranged, shitty father may or may not be alive."

[ The problem is that Gamora can only agree with him here. There is no good way to make up for this, and she can't make this go away.

But... ]

... Pizza?

[ There's a half-second where Peter's brain tries and fails to convince itself that Gamora said literally anything other than "pizza," but—

Nope. No, that word definitely fell past her lips, and Peter can't help snorting out a laugh. ]

... Seriously, Gamora?

[ Thankfully, he sounds more amused than anything. ]

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