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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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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. ]

[ She levels him with one of those flat looks of hers, seriousness etched into every line of her face. ]

I can't offer anything else.

[ Not really, and she hates that it makes her feel helpless.

But she can order pizza. ]

You can eat, and I can check the Guard's census.

[ ... ah.

He— kind of figured that was a joke, and when it becomes clear that it's not, some of that hard-earned good humor falls away.

He frowns at her, straightening a little.

Then, uncertainly, ]

Gamora...

[ It's all that he says. Just her name.

But the inflection of his voice asks it for him: What's wrong? ]

[ She straightens with him, shifting to rest her hand on the nape of his neck again. ]

I just want to see what I can find.

[ Because maybe the census is imperfect, and maybe Ego could have found some way to trick it, but there should have been a bioscan registering a Celestial – or perhaps some being more complex and ancient and worth investigating if the systems couldn't parse out his DNA.

But she wants to at least look. ]

[ He studies her for a second or two longer before offering a slow, if uncertain, nod. ]

Okay. Sure.

I can look it over with you.

[ She shakes her head. ]

You don't need to. It shouldn't be difficult.

[ And it's probably less stressful if Peter doesn't focus on searching through the records. ]

[ He frowns at that, lips pressing into a thin line. ]

If it's not difficult, then it'd go faster with two of us.

[ She gives him a considering look, like she's trying to decide if arguing is worth it or not, but— ]

All right.

[ She pulls away, getting up from the couch to go fetch Peter's laptop and bring it back to him. ]

You can access the Guard's records from here, can't you?

[ And he worries for a long second that she means to keep dragging this out; he's not sure why they're arguing about this – or at least, about to argue about this – but part of him wants to argue on instinct. He has every right to look into this himself, right? Considering this fully concerns him.

He doesn't need Gamora trying to protect him.

But she relents, and Peter forces himself to relax, watching as she moves across the room. ]

Probably.

[ Peter hasn't really bothered trying. He makes a habit of not working from home, after all. ]

[ That's good enough, apparently, because Gamora seems content to hand over his computer, give him free reign to sort through things himself. At least they have the luxury of accessing work files from home, rather than having to haul themselves to the facilities just to poke around for a trace of Ego.

While she doesn't have a laptop to speak of, she does have a tablet that functions similarly enough to what she'd worked with back in their world. It’s convenient, if only used on occasion, though this is a good time for it. She plucks it up from where it had been set on a couchside table, leaving Peter to his own devices as she logs into the census’s database. She’s used it once before, but only briefly in the middle of the night when a disturbing dream drove her to seek reassurance from the Guard’s records.

(It was comforting to find no trace of a Titan in the system.)

Now, however, she’s scrolling through the census, keeping a lookout for anything moderately suspicious. ]

[ Given Peter is Peter, it takes him a couple tries to remember his login credentials. (For a guy who likes his gadgets, he doesn't bother much with the files or the documents or any of the usual paperwork. He tends to just grin at a coworker and charm them into doing it for him.)

But he gets in, and he sorts through the documents. It reminds him a little of prepping for a job; with the Guardians, he still did the legwork, but Rocket or Gamora tended to be more thorough about it than him. With the Ravagers, though, it was far more common – considering he was one of the few members who ever bothered to learn how to read.

They work together in silence for a while, with Peter scrolling through, again and again. Nothing under the obvious hits, and anything suspicious doesn't match the description of Ego that he might expect – but the guy could literally be anyone, anything, so maybe it wouldn't be obvious? After a while, Peter huffs out a breath, glancing up from his screen. ]

You seeing anything?

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