Chapter 5
The rest of the week went by quickly. There was still an obvious tension between them, regarding Peter’s very apparent romantic feelings for her, but he was trying. She can tell he’s taken quite a few steps back with his closeness with her, respecting her boundaries.
Of course, Gamora truly appreciates this. She was yet to experience this from anyone, as her upbringing with Thanos didn’t include lots of respect in that way. The Ravagers aren’t very big on boundaries, either, though incomparable to Thanos.
Sure, the Ravagers were the least Gamora ever expected to fit in with, but somehow it worked. Technically not the least, she corrects herself. Being a so-called Guardian of the Galaxy seemed even more out of reach than a petty thief.
The Ravagers have been good to her. Stakaar took her in as one of his own and she loved the freedom. For so long, she’d go by the title ‘Daughter of Thanos’ or ‘Deadliest woman in the galaxy’, her preference lied with the latter, but with the Ravagers it seemed that nothing about that mattered. Get the job done. That’s it.
Gamora had finally found something she’s never had before: simplicity. She was so tired of the complexity in everything in her life. Her relationship to her homeworld and Thanos, her sisterhood with Nebula, her own identity and finally her alternative self who’d saved the galaxy more than once. Not ever had it been easy, except for with the Ravagers.
And then there’s Peter… an ex-Ravager who’s clearly lost their simple ways. The Terran who’d suddenly walked into her life, or back into it she supposes.
When Nebula had messaged her about a possible job, she was surprised to find her sister indulging herself into her life choices. Nebula had never pretended to agree with Gamora’s choice of joining the Ravagers, but respected her freedom too much to actually do something about it.
The offer was way too much to deny. She’d told Nebula about how she was saving up for her own M-ship, who’d clearly seen an opportunity to take advantage of that. At least something familiar about Nebula in this timeline, even if her intentions weren’t malicious.
During her time with the Ravagers, she’s seen many of them get their own ship, resulting in even more freedom. Now that Gamora’s gotten a taste of freedom, she never wants to let it go ever again. So, obviously, she started saving up for one right away.
She had told Nebula about this, but didn’t tell her how much she’d already saved up. Somehow, her sister must’ve known anyway as her offer would conclude the amount she needed. Or perhaps it was a lucky guess. Gamora has spent a lot of time telling herself the only reason she took the job was for money. She was definitely not thinking about how it’s been a long time since she’s seen the Guardians or how they would feel about her now.
There was definitely no hope that it could be a start of something new.
Even if there was, Peter surely proved her otherwise. Basically the first thing he did when he saw her was drop to his knees and confess his love for her, begging her to come back to him. No matter what she could ever look for in him, it would never be answered to her. Always to her.
So, yes, Gamora has totally given up on that. Those gentle touches they shared a while ago were mere moments of vulnerability and weakness.
She’s just grateful Nebula has yet to comment on the fact that she still hasn’t purchased her M-ship to run freely through the galaxy, despite having the money for it now.
Gamora sighs before getting up from her bed. It’s late in the afternoon and she can see the sunset from her window in her room. It’s a relatively small window, but the view is captivating nonetheless. The bright orange compliments the yellow hue, and she basks in the warmth of the sun. Part of her wants to go out, but she refrains.
Nebula hasn’t contacted her ever since she arrived and she finds herself very grateful for it. Gamora doesn’t even know why she’s still here herself, so how is she supposed to explain that to her sister? Peter and her have been growing closer during her time here and she feels an undeniable connection to him, though she remains unconvinced that it's not just because he’s loved an alternative version of her. Or, loves, really.
His grandfather has been good to her. Gamora doesn’t remember her grandparents, but she’s glad Peter still has some family. They seem close, as far as she can tell.
Something she has been missing here on earth was working out. Apparently, Terra wasn’t very accepting of aliens still. Nebula had informed her about this previously, but Peter elaborated. She feels her stomach turn at the memory.
It’s because of Thanos, she remembers him telling her.
So, Gamora isn’t comfortable going out. She knows she could never truly be free from the Titan, but would definitely refrain from as many connections to him as possible.
Her eyes move back to the window, looking at tbe large, open field in front of her. Perhaps she could at least go for a run. She moves out of her room to ask Peter. His room is merely a few steps away and she can hear the music coming from inside.
What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you
Her throat feels tight. The lyrics are very clearly a reference to her other self — or perhaps how she is not her.
She swallows the lump down her throat and knocks loudly on his door, flinching as she realizes she’s forgotten how fragile Terran doors are.
“Gamora?” His voice comes from behind the door, which swings open a mere second later. He’s still holding the music device in his hand, but paused the song. Phone, she reminds herself.
She grunts as a greeting and moves past him into the room. She hasn’t actually been inside his room. The closest she’s gotten was on that first night, when she saw the Godslayer for the first time. She makes sure to keep her eyes off his nightstand.
The rest of his room is relatively messy, but in a way that it still appears organized. It’s clean, at least, besides a few items of clothing on the floor. Apparently he’s followed her gaze to said items and quickly moves to kick them under his bed, like she hadn’t already noticed them.
He gives her a sheepish smile and she can’t help but notice the faint red tinting his cheeks.
Her eyes move towards his window and she lets out a gasp. His window is larger than hers, and the sunset is even more mesmerizing from here. She faintly hears Peter move up to her.
“Quite a view, huh?” He speaks from behind her.
“Stars…” she breathes, truly at a loss of words. Gamora has lived most of her life in space, which has provided her with gorgeous views many times. Still, this might just be her favorite.
She quickly blinks the tears away before turning around, only to see his gaze focused on her — once again with that look. Her body tenses and she moves across the room, anything to get away from him right now.
But, of course, his eyes only follow her.
“Quill.” She snarls. She should be pleased by the way he flinches, but all she’s feels is hurt.
She ignores it, though, and continues, “I would like to exercise.” Her finger points to the window.
Peter looks surprised, probably taken off guard both by her question and the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. He looks outside through the window, at least she managed to make him take his eyes off her.
“I was thinking I could go for a run outside, but I wanted to make sure that would be fine.” Gamora announces.
“Oh!” Peter perks up, “That’s a great idea!” he says in an encouraging voice and moves closer to her.
She takes a step back, “Alright.” she says dryly.
She pretends to not see the flash of hurt in his eyes, right before his lip quirk back up in a wide grin. “Were you thinking now?” He asks.
Instead of grunting, she nods this time. The idea has been on her mind for a while now, but the thought of running outside with that view sounds excellent to her. A small, but pleased, smile appears on her face. She’s suddenly even more interested in going outside now.
Peter, apparently, notices and moves towards the door, “Let’s go!” He opens the door for her, his arm gesturing for her to go out.
“Will you join me?” She asks. Originally, she’d wanted to exercise alone. Gamora wasn’t used to doing otherwise, nor would it seem like a change she’s open to at the moment — though, she doesn’t doubt her counterpart must’ve felt differently about this.
Still, if he knows her as well as he claims, he must sense she wishes to be alone right now. He must know she’s quite a solitary person, and values her alone time.
He shrugs in response, “If you want to, then obviously I would. But you didn’t invite me, so I assumed you wanna go alone.”
So, clearly he does know her as well as he claims to. She isn’t sure whether to be pleased or annoyed at that. Regardless of whichever one it is, it is definitely unfamiliar.
Surely, Gamora made sure to make people refrain from crossing her boundaries, but for some reason Peter does so willingly. During her time with Thanos, boundaries barely even existed. That was followed by her time with the Ravagers. They were definitely an improvement, but she’s had to expand many of her boundaries in order for her to be even slightly comfortable.
Saying Gamora dislikes physical touch is an understatement, but the Ravagers are overly fond of it. At first, she spent a generous amount of time trying to fight it. Regardless of how many Ravagers were now scared of her, the physical contact never ended. She’s been taught to adapt anywhere, and while she despises using those lessons from Thanos, it’s what managed to get her through.
Whatever Peter is giving her currently, is something she has no experience in.
She just silently nods at him and moves to leave the room, when the tip of her boot bumps into something. She pauses and looks down at the yet unidentified obstacle. Her eyes move over the stack of.. papers? The objects are unknown to her and it takes a short while for her translator to make out the words on it. Fleetwood Mac, it reads.
Suddenly, Peter moves into her line of vision and gathers the stack in his arms. “Careful!” He exclaims.
“Why?” She asks, slightly annoyed at his alarmed voice.
“They’re important to me.” He allows. His body seems tense and his expression is similar to hers. The flash of anger in his eyes makes her tense as well. Even though he’s expressed annoyance combined with hurt at her before, she’d yet to see him be mad at her.
Until now, for something that isn’t even her fault.
That just annoys her even more. It’s truly unfair of him to be annoyed at her for nearly bumping into something that’s important to him, when he is the one not looking after it carefully. “If it’s so important to you, why would you disregard them on the floor like this?” She scowls.
He actually seems hurt by her words. Good, she thinks – except it’s not how she feels.
“I just wasn’t expecting anyone, but you’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighs.
Her annoyance now turns into confusion, “Why are you apologizing to me? It’s your stuff.”
“They’re called vinyls. If you put them on a record player, like that one,” He points over to the device on his desk, “it plays music. Kinda like the phone, but from way back.”
He’s ignoring her question and part of her is curious to ask again. She decides against it, though, and figures that if he doesn’t want to talk about it she probably wouldn’t want to hear it anyway.
She hums, “That’s why they’re important to you.” It’s not a question, but simply what she concluded from his words.
The look on his face is soft now, almost as if he’s reminiscing about something. It’s clear that his love for music isn’t the only reason as to why it means something to him, still she doesn’t bother asking this time and moves out the door.
She has a hunch as to what else has given it importance to him.
“Right! Uh, should I follow you out?” He’s already following her, so she really doesn’t see a point in asking. She shrugs again and walks after him.
Considering the size of the house, it hadn’t taken long for Gamora to memorize the layout. The design was simple, something she’s decidedly pleased about. She rarely comes in any rooms beside the kitchen, the bathroom and her own bedroom. Peter tends to stay downstairs after dinner with his grandfather, while Gamora lies and says she has business to attend to.
This time, she’s aware Peter knows she’s lying. She may have managed to fool him once, but it appears relatively difficult to uphold. He lets her get out, of course –- doesn’t even call her out on it in private. Surely, the now familiar uncomfortability with how well he knows her is still present, but during moments like that she’s grateful for the understanding he has for her.
She stifles a laugh as she watches Peter bend down in order to not bump his head into the doorpost. He’s so tall.
Memories of Thanos looming over her flash by. Of course, Peter isn’t nearly as tall as him, and she also finds she isn’t uncomfortable by his height in any way. She doesn’t mind that he towers over her. Whenever they’ve been close, or vulnerable, she’s felt it to be almost comforting.
The sunset is predictably warm on her skin. She sighs in content and closes her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the heat for a moment.
When her eyes reopen, she moves to look at Peter, only for his eyes to already be on her. There’s a softness in them she’s, unfortunately, become familiar with lately. He has this far away look in his eyes along with it, indicating that he’s picturing her. The soft look he has when he thinks about her is so contradicting to the anger he’s shown her mere seconds ago.
The annoyance comes back to her. “Are you just going to stand there?” She huffs.
A light flush covers his cheeks, “Uh- sorry. I got distracted.” He smiles sheepishly, “So, this is the field.” He gestures to the huge body of grass behind them.
“I can see that.” Gamora deadpans.
That seems to darken his blush, “Right, yeah.”
A slightly awkward silence follows. Gamora generally isn’t uncomfortable with silence, but with Peter it somehow feels wrong. She’s confident that her counterpart must’ve missed out on these, that there was a certain ease between them. Maybe it’s supposed to be there with them too, or maybe it’s merely wishful thinking on her side.
She gives him a curt nod, “I will be exercising then.”
He hums, not really acknowledging her. Whether it’s because of what happened or something he remembered just now, she doesn’t know – doesn’t care, either. She shouldn’t care.
Apparently, she’s picked up on his habit to speak before thinking as she hears her voice before registering what she’s saying. “Stop.” She growls loudly.
He flinches, but doesn’t look afraid. Just surprised by the harshness and loudness of her voice suddenly. “Huh?”
“I didn’t trample your.. vinyls.” The word feels unfamiliar on her tongue, yet not wrong. “You don’t have the right.”
Peter’s confused expression turns into an offended one before he scoffs, “The right? What?” He sounds baffled and Gamora hates it.
“You’re mad at me. Stop.” She hisses, trying to sound as neutral as possible. Her voice betrays her and even she can hear the slight tremble in it. She furrows her eyebrows, forcing her expression into a mixture of determination and anger. Anything that’s easier than whatever she’s feeling right now.
His expression turns soft again and she sees the way his defensiveness melts away. His eyes are kind now, “Hey, I’m not mad at you.” He moves closer to her, reaching out to grasp her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
She moves back before he can touch her and grumbles. He doesn’t need to apologize to her, because she doesn’t care. He can be mad at her all he wants and she can just leave earth right while she’s at it.
He retracts his hand slowly, the hurt look on his face quickly morphing back into apologetic, “Really, Gamora, I’m sorry. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong and that gives me no right to be mad at you for it. Sometimes I just.. I don’t know. You’re the last person I’d be angry with and–”
She pushes his arm, that was still hovering between them, away. Harshly. “You?” She spats, “You?” Her breathing picks up and she feels her anger flare up inside her. “You mean her.” Her voice is loud and luckily Peter’s grandfather isn’t home right now – not that she's very aware of that at this moment.
“Gamora? What–”
Taking a step closer to him, she continues, “You have absolutely no problem getting mad at me.”
The feeling of being a mere replacement for her counterpart has been less frequent lately, but it comes back to her even stronger than before now. Because, it’s true, isn’t it? He just sees her, she can see it in his eyes. Now, more than ever, he proves her just that.
He’s gaping at her, but doesn’t speak. Whether he’s angry or confused isn’t clear to him, but she’s not done yet.
“All you think about is her – how you’d treat her.” Her voice is bordering frantic now, but she doesn’t try to hide it this time. The emotions surging through her are stronger than her willpower.
She takes another step closer to him, almost as if to physically corner him — just like she’s doing already mentally. It’s not a test, per se, but she’s baiting him. Gamora knows she should leave this planet, it’s what’s been going through her head for the past couple of days. Why is she even here?
There’s no answer to that. Not one she likes to admit, at least. So, she reverts to looking for reasons to leave. Their positions are similar to the first time she’s done this to him, back on his ship as he was trying to convince her to leave the Ravagers and come back to them. Her real family, as he called it.
His face finally twists into an angry expression, and Gamora fights a pleased, satisfied smirk. He takes the bait, just as she’d wanted him to. “You talk about me not having the right, but you have no right to say this. Absolutely not! You–”
He’s basically shouting at her, voice even louder than hers. His jaw clenches and his entire body has tensed up. “I’ve done nothing but be kind to you. I– I’ve been your friend! Just a fucking friend to you, without any complaints! I never–”
She scoffs a laugh, “Sure, a friend. None of my friends look at me with that look you’re always giving me. Like – like I’m her. As if there’s anything between us.”
The hurt on his face is evident, but the anger remains the most prominent. She’s got him exactly how she wanted. Any second now and he’s going to scream at her to leave this planet — leave him. He’s going to prove to her that he doesn’t care about her, just her counterpart. His Gamora, the one he loved.
Except, he doesn’t give in so easily. Maybe there’s a part of him that knows what she’s doing, or perhaps he actually does care about her. She refuses to acknowledge the latter.
“Gamora—“ His voice is full of emotion. Something about him sounding so choked up makes the anger she’s feeling lower slightly. “I’m trying. I’m fucking trying so hard. I know we’re not together, but you can’t just expect me to pretend to not know anything about you— about any Gamora.”
His voice is soft now, despite the anger still there. “Gamora, please, just, you have to listen to me. Things we’re doing now, I have never even experienced with her and—“
“But you wish you did, right?” Tears have formed in her eyes, her composure now completely gone. The anger from moments ago has quickly backfired into this agony she’s feeling.
Gamora is unfamiliar with many emotions, yet what she’s been feeling ever since seeing the Guardians again is by far the worst one. A part of her grieves the other version of her, the one who had a family with them. With him. Another part of her despises that counterpart, jealousy flaring up inside her whenever she imagines herself in such an environment.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
Peter hasn’t answered her yet either, and she hates how his silence is louder than any response he could give her. “I just don’t understand. Why want me here? Why let me try these things like french toast and pancakes? Why— I told you about me!” She shrieks. The tears fall. She feels betrayed more than anything right now.
She opened up to him in a way she hasn’t yet to anyone else. She hasn’t, at least.
“Gamora,” His voice is pleading now, all the anger melted away at her tears. He follows her and allows his own tears to fall, “You are her. You’re— in the way that’s like, you’re Gamora. And yes, I didn’t get to experience this with the past Gamora, but I get to experience them with you. I’ve been learning new things about you every day, and I’m so grateful that you’re here. Please, please believe me.”
Gamora scoffs at him, "Oh, please!" She throws her hands up in the air.
Peter starts talking again before she can continue, "It's true! See, I had a hunch you'd like the violets, and you did! And--"
This time, it's Gamora who interrupts him, "You thought she would like them, not me!"
"But you did, didn't you?" His voice is loud again, though he's not screaming at her. He sounds desperate and there's a slight glimpse of hopefulness on his face.
Words fail her as she tries to argue with him, because she really did love those flowers. It could just be a coincidence, merely a lucky guess from his side. Then again, Gamora doesn't exactly look like the kind of girl who loves flowers. She's not made to like or nurture such things.
"I don't know if she likes — would have liked — those violets. She never got to see them." His bottom lip trembles before his teeth sink into it, harshly biting until Gamora sees the red liquid spilling out of it. It's taking everything in him not to cry again. The crack in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by either of them, yet he powers through.
"I also don't know about the pancakes or french toast," He moves closer to her, gently grasping her hands into his. She lets him. "but I do know what you like."
Before Gamora can ask, Peter answers, "And no, that doesn't make you a replacement for her."
He doesn't elaborate on that, and she doesn't mind it. They both fall quiet. For the first time since this morning, Gamora isn't bothered by the silence between them. Silence rarely bothered her to begin with. She treasured any moment to herself she could get back on the Sanctuary. Though, she discovered that it's different with Peter — sometimes, at least. Times like now, she's content.
The sound of his voice interrupts her trail of thoughts. "Uhm, I mean, maybe she would've liked french toast more?" He sounds unsure, probably both about that statement and about even saying this to her at all.
Gamora groans and breaks free from his grasp, wrapping her arms around herself like a shield. Of course, he can't stop thinking about her. He claims to be satisfied by knowing only her answer, but his thoughts again wander to her counterpart.
He seems to notice his mistake right away and moves to recover, "Okay, that's not how I meant that — that was shitty. It's just, I mean I know what you like. Yes, maybe it would have been different for her, I have no—“
"Seriously?" She snaps, stopping his rambling. "It's just some stupid food, Peter!"
He's gaping at her, visibly surprised by her sudden outburst. It's silent between them again, until she sees a slight twitch on his lips. He bites down on them again, though this time he's not trying to prevent the tears from falling — instead, a muffled giggle escapes his mouth as he doubles over.
"Huh?"
Apparently that just makes him laugh harder, and there's no point in trying to hide it anymore. He laughs freely now and, despite her slight annoyance at him, she giggles quietly with him. "What?" She asks again, trying to sound stern but failing.
"It's just, you're right. It's just some stupid food and we're arguing over it! We're being ridiculous!"
Gamora pouts, though she'd deny ever doing so, "Speak for yourself. You're ridiculous, not me." She grumbles.
The tension from before melts away, and she's relieved to experience this lightness with him again. A feeling that's so uniquely connected to Peter and him alone. She's never experienced this with anyone else. A few tears roll down his cheek, but this time from laughter. She smiles at that, pride surging through her body — she made him laugh like that.
She likes this, she decides, so she continues, "Maybe if you never grew up with the Ravagers you might prefer the pancakes over french toast, as they tend to have horrid taste."
Predictably, his laughter grows even louder. "Gamora!" He exclaims — or, tries to, between giggles.
Her grin widens, "I have no doubt my counterpart would've preferred pancakes too."
He finally straightens his back and looks at her, his giggles haven't subdued but there's now something soft in his eyes. He nods at her, almost as if to thank her for sharing that with him. Perhaps sharing some things with an alternative version of her isn't so bad.
Peter deals with silence arguably a lot worse than her, she's discovered. A teasing smile forms on his face, and he clearly wants to go back to the playfulness between them from moments ago, "Well, I haven't been with the Ravagers for a long time now — you on the other hand..." He trails off, but looks knowingly at her.
Gamora gasps in offense, and that alone seems to trigger another fit of laughter from him, "What are you insinuating?" She asks — or, more like demands an answer.
That familiar spark of competitiveness ignites again, something he seems to be able to trigger perfectly. "No version of me could ever be accused of horrid taste. And even if you try, you'd be calling yourself foul. Your Gamora is the same as—"
Both of them stop at her words immediately. Peter's laughter goes silent and his eyes widen. Gamora feels her throat go dry, her heart might've actually stopped. Unfortunately, she appears to be fine.
Neither of them move to break the silence, both equally caught off guard by her words. Somehow, it hadn't even crossed her mind. The words sounded so simple, so obvious. Any version of Gamora is essentially her, but.. it can't be that simple — it shouldn't be that simple.
Right?
Her mind is reeling. She refuses to meet Peter's eyes, but she can feel his gaze onto her.
Her careless words mean more than she can even be aware of — indicate something she can’t even begin to picture. It’s all so much.
Suddenly, she remembers why they're even here in the first place. Her head snaps up, yet she still won't look at him. "So, the whole field then?" She doesn't even bother trying to sound casual, not trusting her voice at all. She just needs to get away. Right now. Then she can think.
Peter is taken aback by her sudden change of topic, "Gamora.." His voice is soft, aligning with the way he's looking at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she's able to make out his expression as one of hope. There's other emotion evident, but it doesn't appear to be anything negative.
He's just looking at her like that because she mentioned her, she tells herself.
Even she has a hard time believing that.
But, right now, she needs to get away. He wants to talk about this, she can tell, but she doesn't. So she won't, and he lets her.
"Yeah, uh, you can use the whole field." He's uncharacteristically quiet — quiet in a sense Peter rarely is. Aside from his words, Peter is always loud in his emotions. That way, even when he doesn't speak, he's never quiet. At least not to her.
Everything is too much for her at this point, this situation is overwhelming her and she knows he can tell. He moves away from her slowly and gives her a gentle smile. There's nothing blocking her way from running away from him now, both literally and metaphorically, yet she hesitates. Truly, she doesn't want to talk about it, but at the same time this feels too big not to talk about.
Peter seems to realize her inner struggle and nods encouragingly at her. It's like he's heard her thoughts and agrees with her. Gamora is once again overwhelmed by just how well he knows her — and that realization follows with the same feeling it always is. Her frustration returns and suddenly running seems very appealing again.
It's awkward moving away from him, especially as she feels him staring at her for a while before walking back into the house. It just makes her run faster. She longs for that burning sensation in her lungs as she exhausts her body into a good work out.
The sun has long since set and all that's left of right now is her in the dark, running into the freezing night — away from warmth.