riverviewlogs | ( closed ) he's a jukebox hero.

Entry tags:

( closed ) he's a jukebox hero.

who: Gamora and Peter Quill
what: Beetles and crystals and dreams – oh my!
when: 20 January thru... later.
where: AROUND?
warnings: Beetle murder and later, genocide and trauma.

[ It's not every day the Perimeter Guard gets to deal with enormous beetles.

Giant monsters? Sure, most days.

These ones just happen to be especially large and bug-like and capable of doing far more damage than anyone is comfortable with. They breach the Abandoned City's walls before the Guard can respond, but in a matter of hours, it's all hands on deck. Peter and Gamora aren't part of the force that will push forward in the experimental mechs, but Gamora isn't fazed. They've dealt with unnecessarily big creatures in the past – back home and in the Quarantine – and despite the size of the herd of beasts, the Guard is fortunate enough to have numbers of its own.

So for now, they're playing ground support.

The Abandoned City is simultaneously an excellent location – given its vast and varied battlefields – and also wildly inconvenient depending on where they meet the beetles. Now, they find themselves pushing back against the insects on the front of a boardwalk on a riverside beach, caught between the water and empty, rundown buildings. Some of the behemoths simply step through the river, others knock aside old houses, smashing structures that dare stand near their horns.

One of the herd rears up as Gamora and her team advance. They're attempting to take out a leg, maybe hobble it or slow its progress, but it brings its mighty weight down and forces them all to scatter as a ruin collapses around their heads. Shouted commands, quick orders to move, take cover, get out of the damn way! and Gamora dives out of the path of a falling sheet of concrete just in time to avoid being crushed. She can't see Peter, can't see the rest of her squad through the dust in the air and the chaos around them, and just as she's trying to make sense of her surroundings, another creature swings its formidable horn low, sweeping over the riverbank and crushing a stretch of rickety wooden planks that line the boardwalk.

She darts forward again, ducking behind what used to be a storefront, now reduced to crumbling cement and glass. She grits her teeth, looking above her for a sign of another massive bug, but—

She's clear – at least for a second.

Her fingers are curled around the hilt of her sword, and she leans around the corner of the broken building, looking for anyone nearby, and—

The familiar and distinct sound of Peter's blasters. ]

Peter!

[ Shouted out across the chaos, through the debris and constant destruction of the beetles pushing relentlessly forward. ]

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[ When she pulls back, he lets her, and he helps her push the blankets aside. Still, he looks startled, confused. ]

What are you doing?

Getting up.

[ Moving, not sitting here.

She pushes her fingers back through her hair, shoving sweaty locks out of her face as she stands, already heading for the bedroom door. ]

[ He frowns at her for a second, but as she walks away, Peter scrambles to follow after her. He spares another glance at Groot, who snores softly in his bed, completely oblivious to everything that just transpired, before Peter follows her out into the living space.

He sticks close, trying to keep a step out of space to avoid hovering, as he tends to do. He forces himself to step around her, heading into the kitchen. ]

Water?

[ She keeps combing her fingers through her hair, picking out tangles from her curls as she walks across the apartment. It suddenly feels too small, confined, but the sound of Peter's voice distracts her for a moment. ]

... Water.

[ That's a "yes." ]

[ He nods, pulling down glasses from the cupboards. (Thank god he's done dishes recently.)

When he pours out two glasses, Gamora is still pacing the space like a caged wild animal. The living space is lit by the dim light falling in from the balcony windows, and he watches her progress from one wall to another, feeling entirely out of his depths.

After a moment, he walks over with the glasses, deposits them both on the coffee table, and steps into her path. He rests a hand on her shoulder, the other hand carefully pushing her hair away from her face. ]

Do you... wanna talk about it?

[ She doesn’t seem to realize that Peter is there until he steps in her way, and she only stops because it would be awkward to just keep walking around him. There’s no additional tension when he touches her this time, but she also doesn’t relax.

She shakes her head, her jaw set as she glances over to the glasses on the table. ]

Just the water is fine.

[ So that would be a “no” on the talking. ]

[ —he's not sure what he expected. If their positions were reversed, he'd totally answer the same way.

But for a second, he lets his disappointment show – just a flicker of it, in the way his eyebrows knit together, how his lips press into a thin, unhappy line – but he nods, stepping to one side. ]

Yeah. Okay.

[ He perches on the arm of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. Maybe he should leave her alone, let her work it out by herself, whatever it is, but part of him is deeply worried. Part of him knows that he wouldn't want to be alone with whatever nightmares might have jolted him awake, as they had with Gamora.

But he hesitates, fingers imperceptibly digging into his upper arm. Then, quietly, ]

Do you want me to leave you alone?

[ Maybe, in another moment, she might feel guilty for the look that crosses Peter’s face, but she’s too preoccupied with her dream to pay his disappointment much mind. Once Peter moves out of her way, Gamora goes to retrieve one of the glasses. Fortunately, she doesn’t start to pace again, and instead, sips at her water, looking out across the living room to the balcony.

His question gives her pause, and her brow draws in a contemplative frown as she actually thinks about her answer. There’s no immediate rejection, no quick “yes, I want to be alone,” because she’s actually trying to consider whether or not she wants his company.

Eventually, ]

No. You can stay.

[ For a weird, unreal second there, he felt like he was twisting in the wind with that long pause, with the way she had to deliberate. If she had told him to fuck off, he wasn't actually sure what he would have done. It wouldn't have felt right, stepping away to leave Gamora on her own, but luckily, he doesn't have to worry about it.

He nods once he receives that bit of permission, hands relaxing against his arms. He watches her for a few heartbeats, uncertain and nervous, then, ]

Is there... Can I—

[ He winces at himself and quickly corrects course: ]

Do you need anything?

[ She maintains that quiet, slowly drinking from her glass as she focuses on the world outside the windows. It doesn't settle her, but— it makes her feel less confined.

Sort of.

She glances over as he speaks, and once again, she has to think about an answer. ]

I—

[ A false start. She frowns at her glass, lips pressed in a thin line before she tries again. ]

I need to do something.

[ A distraction. A way to avoid focusing on this. A run or a fight or— not this. Not all of this energy that keeps pulling her back into how real her dream had felt, how vivid and painful and intense it had been. ]

Okay...

[ He frowns a little, but at length, he nods, licking his lips as he thinks. ]

We could watch a movie, or— I can wake up Groot, and we can go for a walk? Or— we can go to the Perimeter Guard station and borrow a training room.

[ ... come to think of it, Peter never did pay for the damages in that one room. He remembers passing by as maintenance workers scratched their heads at it, and he had hurried away with his head ducked. ]

[ She considers the options silently, trying to decide. She likes the idea of getting out of the apartment, but she has enough presence of mind to feel guilty over waking the little sapling in the middle of the night to drag him around the Quarantine. ]

I don't want to disturb Groot.

[ ... He also happens to get grumpy when he doesn't sleep enough, and the last thing that child needs is more attitude. ]

[ Peter shrugs a little. ]

We can carry him. Groot could sleep through an explosion and not even move.

[ But, yeah, the kid would be grumpy once they woke him, admittedly. But maybe they'll get lucky and the kid will be too sleepy and out of it to throw a fit before they set off.

Fifty-fifty chance, by Peter's reckoning. ]

Whatever you need.

[ Peter makes a decent point, at least – and Groot could probably just go back to sleep, wherever they end up.

She thinks it over again, and then— ]

The training facility.

[ Something to get rid of this tension, to just let her stop thinking about it. ]

[ He nods, pushing off from the couch. ]

Okay. Let's get changed, then.

[ He watches her for a second longer, indecision in his gaze, before turning back to their shared room. He throws on a different pair of sweats, a loose-fitting shirt, and a red zip-up hoodie. He waits for Gamora to grab her clothing and change elsewhere before he goes through the arduous process of waking Groot.

Thankfully, the kid is too out of it to be properly pissed about being woken up, and he just stretches out his arms to be picked up. Peter gathers the kid up in the tiny little baby blanket they had gotten for Groot some time after he first arrived, personally selected by Groot, himself, on account of the funny little animals on them (elephants). Groot goes right back to sleep almost the instant he rests against Peter's shoulder.

Peter steps back into the living space, casting around for his keys, Groot's breath gusting gently along Peter's neck. ]

I'm ready when you are.

[ Gamora trusts Peter to take care of Groot while she changes to leave, swapping her pajamas for leggings and a sweat-wicking shirt, not bothering with a sweater, despite the chilly night air. Her hair, mess that it is, goes up into a ponytail so she doesn't have to deal with it, before she's gathering up the last of her things.

She glances up to Peter and Groot as he carries the sapling out of the bedroom, and rather than throwing a fit, Groot seems to have just passed right back out in Peter's arms.

Well, that's better than a tired, whiny toddler. ]

Let's go.

[ She doesn't waste any time, because she's antsy. She wants to burn off her energy, to stop thinking about this, and for now, training is the best solution she can come up with.

She leads the way from the housing complex, off to the trams to get to the Guard's facilities. It's dark, still the middle of the night, and while there are obviously Guard members on duty, there shouldn't be too many training at this hour. ]

[ Gamora speeds off to the training facility, and Peter keeps up as best as he can, considering he's still feeling slightly battered and he has a slumbering Groot in tow.

They find an empty training room easily enough, isolated from the bulk of the currently active guards to afford them some privacy. With Groot still pressed against his shoulder, Peter carefully shrugs out of his sweater, leaving it wadded up as a makeshift mattress just beneath a bench. He lays Groot down into it, settling the blanket securely around the kid's shoulders, before he gets back to his feet.

Peter rolls out his still healing shoulder, runs a hand along his bruised side. It'll be fine, he tells himself. More with worse, right? He stretches carefully, slowly, before taking his place on the practice mats. ]

On your mark?

[ Fortunately for Peter, Gamora is cognizant of his injuries. At another time, she wouldn't be entertaining this while he's still healing, but— she's prickling with this leftover energy, this need not to focus on all of the sensations experienced in her dream.

She stretches on the sidelines (though she doesn't need to, with her mods), giving Peter a moment to prepare before she joins him on the mats. Sliding into her stance, she watches him too closely, too intently – on edge.

A few heartbeats of time, and then— ]

Now.

[ Gamora moves.

When she advances on Peter, she isn't trying to teach him. This isn't an effort to train him, to give him openings to learn and adapt; she's effectively wailing on him. The difference, however, is that she isn't trying to injure him or end the fight quickly; she's just laying into him. She at least understands how much he can take and how not to hurt him, but that doesn't mean she's trying to make this fair. ]

[ Peter had fully intended to stay on the defensive during the fight, just to give Gamora this much needed outlet – but the instant the spar starts, it becomes less of a choice and more of a necessity.

He can tell she’s still holding back, even if she’s unyielding, even if the barrage of attacks is relentless. If he had a mind for it, he’d notice the way she actively avoids the worst of his injuries, but as it stands, he’s mostly focused on staying on his feet while blocking the worst of her blows and trying to absorb the rest. And it reminds him so much of that day on Xandar. She had been holding back then, too, but not in the patient, measured way of their usual sparring sessions; more in the way that said, “I’d rather not kill you, but I can, if I have to.”

So this, controlled as she is – it’s scary as fuck, and it’s a stark reminder of why Gamora had her reputation as the galaxy’s deadliest assassin.

It comes to an end, as these rounds always do: Peter moves to dodge a kick instead of blocking, but the same instant, he realizes he’s moving too slow. He twists, trying to absorb the blow, except she catches him in his left flank, sending him stumbling into the ground. He falls to the mats hard, and the landing sends shocks up his bruised ribs, his aching shoulder. He bites down on the pained should that tries to escape him. ]

[ She doesn't let up until she finally knocks Peter to the ground. It comes automatically, immediately, and she doesn't seem to realize what's she's done until he hits the floor and lands—

—on his shoulder.

Damn it.

She drops out of her posture, stepping up to Peter's side and kneeling quickly next to him, some of that intensity fading from her expression in favor of concern. ]

Did I hurt you?

[ Her tone isn't as clipped, and instead, she reaches to gently brace his shoulder, her other palm settling tentatively on his chest. ]

[ He breathes through his lips as he slowly rolls onto his back, bracing his left arm against his side. At her question, he shakes his head. ]

No. I’m fine.

[ Slightly tense, a little dazed, but he’s getting through it. ]

Landed wrong. [ By way of explanation – as if she hadn’t witnessed that exact thing with her own two eyes. ] Won’t happen twice.

[ After a few more seconds, he carefully moves to push himself up with his right arm, gritting his teeth against the warning sparks along his bruised side. ]

Gimme a minute. We can go again after that.

[ She sets her hand at the small of his back, carefully avoiding his shoulder as she helps push him upright, getting him to sit up. She shakes her head, lips set in a thin line as she looks him over. ]

No, we should stop.

[ Because this isn't what his body needs, and as much as Gamora wants (needs) a distraction, it shouldn't be at the price of Peter's shoulder. In reality, she shouldn't have dragged him into this in the first place, because that was thoughtless, that was focusing on her own tangled mess instead of remembering that Peter's body is all bruises and—

He should be taking it easy instead of playing Gamora's punching bag. ]

[ He winces once he’s sitting up, half-prodding, half-massaging his shoulder. He made a dumb mistake, he thinks; he should have taken the hit instead of trying to get out of its way. And while he knows sparring is hardly ideal for his recuperation, he also knows he can take one hell of a beating and has done so with gusto in the past.

More with worse, he tells himself again, and he slowly rolls out his shoulder, breathing slowly through the warning flashes of pain.

He catches her gaze, face solemn and determined. ]

Was it helping? ‘Cause if it was helping, we can go again. I don’t mind.

[ Because god knows Gamora has coached him through a shitton of his own personal problems. He owes her at least this. ]

I mind.

[ She minds hurting him, even if she'd been doing her best to avoid exactly that. The problem is that there's no way to make this completely safe when he's dealing with a fresh injury, and she can't just save him from landing wrong any time she takes his legs out from under him (though she'd also been trying to prevent that, too). ]

This probably inflamed it again. We should get you something to calm the muscles.

[ Changing the subject, drawing attention away from herself. ]

[ He can see what she’s trying to do, and he frowns at her. ]

You didn’t answer my question.

[ A little stubbornly, insistently, but not ungently. ]

Was it helping?

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