Chapter 3
"Sorry, this was all I could find." Nebula tossed him a box of Twinkies and he couldn't help but laugh.
"Twinkies, cockroaches, and maybe Cap would survive a nuclear holocaust." Tony sighed as he bit into the first one and shook his head. "I always wondered what these tasted like. Rich kid problem #211, never ate a Twinkie. How many more boxes are there?"
"Looks like a dozen."
"Great." Tony sighed, and dropped the box next to him, then went back to trying to figure out the mechanics on the ship; FRIDAY was no help and he had wanted to save the battery on the helmet for as long possible, and had turned it off days ago. He glanced up to find her watching him curiously. "What?"
"What's a Cap?"
"Right. I'm on a deserted planet with the one being in the Universe who hasn't heard of Captain America."
"Oh, him." Nebula shrugged at him and waited.
"He was the first one of 'us', the six freaks who were supposed to save the world when it needed us to. He was just a kid, when World War Two broke out, wanted to fight, but was too small, and they needed a volunteer to try out this serum that would make him pretty much indestructible if it worked, and he volunteered, and it worked like a charm." He saw a blank look on her face as he picked up the box of Twinkies again and tore another packet open. "World War Two was one of those things that we humans like to do every once in a while to shift the balance of power, costs a lot of lives, doesn't make a lot of sense, but then most things earthlings do, don't make much sense." He shoved half the Twinkie in his mouth, chewed it as little as possible, then swallowed and knew she was waiting for him to go on.
"Well, he became this hero guy, became poster boy for the States, the country where I live, used to live, and at the end of the war, he probably saved the world by crashing his jet, taking one of the Infinity Stones with him. I think if they hadn't found him and thawed him out seventy years later, the world might have been better off, and I'm not sure he wouldn't agree with me."
Nebula continued to work on rewiring the ship's communication system, as she asked quietly, "so, this Cap is your friend?"
"Friend." He finished the last bit of the Twinkie, then ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "I don't think we were ever friends. We were on the same side, fought together, but we were too different, he was essentially a twenty-five year old with a hundred year old brain, and I was me, a more stubborn version of me, if you can imagine. Both of us always thought we knew best. Turns out neither of us knew much of anything. He expected far too much of us."
"Who?"
"Hmm?"
"You said, 'he' expected too much of you."
"Guy named Fury. He thought if we worked together, it would be enough. But, we fell apart. No one's fault, really, just, stuff happened, as it does when too many people are involved. A lot of it was probably my fault, usually is, though I'm not sure it would have mattered in the end." He swore as his finger caught on a sharp edge, then gritted his teeth as he nanoteched it back together. "Gotta find a way to make that not hurt so fucking much. Sorry. The thought just occurred to me that I might be the last one. I know it was supposed to be random, but considering -"
"Is it going to help us get you home if you think the worst?" Nebula mumbled gently at him.
Tony looked up at her, and managed to grin. "No. It sure isn't. I don't suppose Quill has any music on this thing? I work better if there's music."
Nebula nodded. "He is, was a music nut. Had this thing. Wait, maybe, yeah, here it is -"
Tony laughed as he caught the Mp3 player that she tossed to him. He slipped on the headphones and turned it on, then closed his eyes and laughed even harder as he heard Rupert Holmes' voice, and sent a word of thanks to wherever or whenever Peter Quill was at the moment, and hoped with every bit of hope he had left that he could find a way to bring him, all of them back.
"I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed
And in the personals column, there was this letter I read
"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain
If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape
I'm the love that you've looked for, write to me, and escape..."*