It Had To Be You

Peter groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position. If he didn’t know any better he would have sworn he’d just gone toe to toe with Drax and Gamora for a solid eight hours and lost. Everything hurt, everything ached and as had happened every night since Ego’s demise, he wasn’t at all well rested thanks to the phantom pains.

Forcing himself to his feet, he made his way to the bathroom attached to his room and looked in the mirror. He knew he wouldn’t find anything, but it was a force of habit by now. He checked every morning to see if there was some kind of bruising or marks to indicate that he’d fallen off his bed or something. Anything to convince himself that wasn’t in fact losing his sanity.

His face greeted him, completely devoid of any proof that he’d been stomped on by Groot or Rocket. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he tried to concentrate on what he’d dreamt of for the past two weeks. Of course, nothing came back to him except a general feeling of adrenaline and fighting. It always came back to fighting and despite how terrible he felt, he was sure he’d ‘won’ those fights.

“Who cares if I won, I just want to sleep for real.” He whined to his reflection. “What the Hell is wrong with you?”

When his reflection refused to answer him, Peter sighed and went about his morning routine. He tried not to think of it, but he couldn’t help it. Why wasn’t he getting any real rest? Why were his dreams so violent? Had losing Yondu broken his mind so severely? That he doubted because he’d experienced loss before and never started a fight club in his sleep.

Once dressed and ready for the day he headed to the pilot’s seat where he knew Rocket would be. “Alright, Roc, you can take a break.” He yawned.

“You look like shit, Quill. You sure you don’t want me to keep going?” The raccoon smirked.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Peter shrugged. “Besides, I think I heard Groot getting into stuff in the kitchen.”

“This right here is why I never mated.” Rocket grumbled as he jumped down from the seat.

“Really? I figured it was because even aliens outlaw sex with animals.” Peter jabbed with a mean smile.

“Hey! Watch yourself, Quill!” Rocket bared his teeth, but Peter knew he wasn’t really mad. They were a family and that meant giving each other shit, loads of it. (Though they were always careful not to word it that way in front of Drax for fear of the obvious) None gave it more than Rocket, either. The little guy had been borderline cruel up until Yondu died two weeks ago.

About an hour later, Drax and Gamora had joined Peter in the cockpit. Neither were overly chatty, but they sure were making eyes at each other. Gamora’s gaze was calculating, curious and yet just a little cold. Meanwhile, Drax who was anything but subtle, stared boldy at the green skinned alien with obvious attraction.

“You two should just start bunking up.” Peter suggested.

“Shut up, Peter.” Gamora snapped. “Why is it so quiet? Why aren’t you playing music?”

After his cassette player had been destroyed, Peter had been gifted something called a Zune by Yondu. He’d listened to it often, but always after he was prompted by the others to do so. Not because he didn’t like it, but because it hurt two-fold. There was the pain of losing Yondu and knowing that he’d cared enough about Peter to collect and keep such a thing for him, and then of course it was also a reminder of the connection to his mother that had been lost.

“Forgot.” He ignored Gamora’s concerned frowned and he definitely pretended not to notice her immediate scan of him as she seemed to pick up on the fact that something else was wrong. Before she could assault him with a barrage of questions, he pulled out the Zune, hooked it up to the port Rocket had installed in the pilot’s seat and pressed play.

Something called “Cold Hearted” by Paula Abdul began to play. The only song he’d heard or remembered by the woman was “Knocked Out.” According to his Zune, “Cold Hearted” came from the same album but wasn’t released until later. He found the beat interesting and looking around noted that the others seemed to appreciate it, too.

“This woman must have known you.” Gamora teased as the line ‘he’s a lover boy at play, he don’t play by rules’ came across. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I like her voice,” Gamora added. “it’s very melodic.”

As the tunes continued to bounce between genres Peter noticed that Drax enjoyed a good deal of the ballads while Gamora seemed to prefer the stuff that was closer to the old mix tapes. Groot, when he and Rocket joined them, really liked the harder, louder music.

It didn’t take long however, before Peter began to feel a strange amount of aggression building up. He looked at the others, was it just him? They sat quietly, listening to the music in a nearly serene state. Actually, it was the quietest they’d been in a long time. Maybe that’s why he felt so aggressive. He knew they were just trying to respect the music and let him learn about his culture, but why did they have to sit so close to him?

Peter glared at them, his hands tightening as his brows furrowed. He felt…trapped by them. Like he was surrounded and the space around him was shrinking. He wanted them to get as far away from him as possible.

“What’s your problem, Quill?” Rocket snapped, clearly picking up on his attitude.

He blinked and tried to shrug it off. “I don’t know. But I’m not mad…or at least I wasn’t. Now I’m getting angry, but I don’t know why.”

“Is it the music?” Drax asked, grating on Peter’s nerves. “Sometimes your music makes me want to tear out all of your spinal cords and toss your lifeless bodies into space.”

“What? Since when?” Peter demanded.

“No shit!” Rocket added.

“I am Groot!”

“Watch your mouth!” Peter snapped at the little tree. “But yeah, Groot. That is messed up.”

“Someone else should pilot the Milano.” Gamora announced. “Peter go back to bed, you look exhausted. I’ll take your place for now.”

“Pfft.” Peter scoffed with a sneer. “I just woke up, I’m not going back to bed.”

“Yes, you are.” Gamora stated as she stood from her chair.

“Make me.” Peter challenged.

“You do look like shit, Quill. I already told you that once.” Rocket threw in.

“You must have strange feces, Rocket, if Peter looks similar.” Drax pondered aloud.

“I do not look like shit. Now everyone just back off.” He stated as firmly as he could but the longer they all sat in silence, the angrier he felt. He took a deep breath and put the ship on auto-pilot. They were headed to Xandar anyhow and it was at least a week away. Some kind of problem with the stone or something; he couldn’t recall.

As he got up to head for the kitchen, Gamora reached for his hand and somehow, she ended up on the flat of her back, with Peter holding her there by the throat. He stared down at her with wide, surprised eyes and a dropped jaw. He honestly didn’t know why or especially how he had done that to the assassin. He did however know how and why he ended up on his own back with a larger hand wrapped around his own neck.

Drax.

“What the Hell, Peter?!” Gamora shouted as she got to her feet quickly.

“How’d you do that?” Rocket frowned. “You’re good in a fight, but you ain’t that good.”

“I. Am. Groot.” The little tree stated in awe.

“I’m…Sor…ry.” Peter choked, not too surprised that Drax had yet to release him.

“Drax enough!” Gamore frowned as she touched her own throat. “Peter your strength and speed were…”

“Unnatural.” Drax finished for her as he let Peter up. “Even your movements were not typical of your kind. It was as if you were trained by the Kree.”

“What?” Peter coughed. “Where would I learn anything from a Kree?”

“I don’t know but that was definitely a Kree move.” Gamora confirmed. “But it wasn’t just the move, it was everything. For a moment, it was like I’d been caught off guard by a Kree warrior in every way. Strength, speed and skill.”

Peter frowned as he bit at his lip. He grabbed at the back of his neck while debating; should he tell them about the aggression? Was it possibly linked to his dreams of fighting? He never woke up feeling like a highly skilled fighter, and yet he knew he’d won the fights against who they were. Maybe they weren’t dreams?

“Out with it.” Gamora demanded, catching on to at least some kind of inner debate. “What aren’t you telling us, Peter?”

He growled in frustration as he grabbed the sides of his head. “Alright! Fine. I’ve been dreaming of fighting, I think. A lot. For the past two weeks at least. I wake up sure that I have injuries but I don’t. I can’t remember who I fought when I wake up, but I haven’t felt well rested since Ego.”

“Maybe your little ‘bonding’ session with that psycho opened up some new abilities?” Rocket suggested.

“No, Ego said that by killing him I’d lose my powers.” Peter reminded his furry shipmate.

“That’s stupid.” Gamora rolled her eyes. “He probably hoped you’d be selfish and stupid enough to let him live if he convinced you that was true.”

“Indeed.” Drax agreed. “When parents die their physical traits amongst their offspring do not die with them.”

“I am Groot.”

“What do you know, Groot?” Peter lashed out. “You’re just a little baby!”

“Peter!” Gamora snapped. “Your hostility is on the rise and this isn’t the first incident like it, either.”

 “I didn’t say anything hostile! He is a baby! That wasn’t hostile at all! Hostile would be saying that he’s nothing but an attention seeking-”

In retrospect, Peter was glad Rocket blasted him. He was about to say something incredibly cruel. Possibly unforgivable. Why? Why was he so angry and hateful right now? Maybe Gamora was right. Maybe he should just get up and go to bed. Yeah, that was a good idea. Go to bed. He just had to, you know, start breathing again first.

“Rocket!” Gamora shook her head. “I feel like a damned caretake for toddlers! We need someone to look at you on Xandar, Peter. Maybe the can tell us what’s going on.”

“It’s gonna take a very special kind of genius to figure this Humie out, that’s for sure.” Rocket sneered. “I said it before, I’ll say it again; You’ve got issues, Quill.”

Xandar –

The silver room had four guards posted again. For several months they had been down to one guard and then just weeks ago, a guard was found passed out on the floor. There had been no explanation and the guard insisted he had just felt fatigued and that his sugars were low. The problem was that he’d been pale and terrified. Still, he refused to acknowledge it and insisted he was fine.

Two days after the guard passed out, four guards conacted their supervisors as they stared in horror, unsure of what they had just seen. Well, no. They knew what they saw. What they didn’t know was the how or why. It had been brief, perhaps two and a half seconds of the blue Kree in his battle armor and paint. He’d appeared and disappeared without even noticing them.

In the camera room, two supervisors went over the footage again and again at the request of their vault guards. Nothing appeared, especially not Ronan the Accuser. The vault’s lights didn’t even flicker. The video evidence seemed to show that their fears were unfounded. They radioed their guards back and relayed their findings.

Unfortunately, rumors spread rapidly and to Corpsman Dey’s horror, everyone on guard duty around the vault insisted on sightings of the Accuser’s ghost. Dey knew which ones were lying or at least exaggerating and which ones truly believed they’d seen something.

Even dead the Accuser still frightened people, and the men and women who ‘saw’ him were always clammy, pale and a bit twitchy. The liars oversold their fear by breaking down into tears or screaming or insisting they needed a newer route, usually a cushier or easier route.

Personally, he didn’t believe Ronan was there until he did a patrol himself. He hadn’t been frightened like the others. Startled? Of course. Concerned? Who wouldn’t be? But fear didn’t factor in. Why? Because Ronan clearly wasn’t real. Now he definitely felt anger toward the being who had nearly killed him and everyone he loved, but again, he was secure in the knowledge that the apparition couldn’t harm him.

Still, Ronan the Accuser, whether physical or incorporeal, was not to be ignored. Just because Dey didn’t believe the image was a threat didn’t mean he was at a pay grade to make that determination official. So of course, he reported the sightings to Nova Prime.

Finally, finally Peter did not dream of any form of combat. If anything there was a feeling of a boredom and barely controlled rage, but absolutely no fighting. And yet he still didn’t feel fully rested. Worse? His ‘mean’ behavior had only intensified. Sure, his body wasn’t being abused in his sleep, but his friends sure as Hell were. He’d been down right cold and biting.

And come to think of it, he’d received quite a few well deserved hits to the face, so he wasn’t really sure that he could consider the no bad dreams a win. Even Rocket thought Peter was taking things too far and not just when it was about Groot, either. More than once the cybernetically enhanced raccoon had come to the defense of Gamora and Drax.

Thankfully, they were landing on Xandar. After their meeting with Nova Prime, Peter had an appointment to see some kind of therapist. He wasn’t looking for to it, but he was also sick of hurting and being hurt by his friends.

“Welcome Guardians.” The white haired Xandarian smiled as they approached. “We are relieved to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back.” Then entire group usually left the talking up to Peter or Gamora, so with Peter’s unpredictable moods swings and comments, Gamora had to take the lead. “What’s happened?”

The leader of Xandar wasted no time on pleasantries or meager explanations. She simply led them straight to the vault where the infinity stone was kept. Peter frowned as an odd tickle of excitement filled his stomach. The power of the stone called to him sure, but if he was honest, something else called to him, too. Something familiar and horrifying.

Just as Peter was about to ask if anyone else felt it, he could have sworn he saw someone move behind the vault. Since the others were engaged in whatever Gamora and Nova Prime were discussing, he simply moved behind the vault to follow the shadow.

Nothing.

He shrugged and returned to the others who were still engrossed in an intense discussion about-

Good God, it was Ronan the Accuser! He shouted some kind of wordless noise and pointed to just behind the Nova Prime where the angry Kree stood, glaring malevolently at his friends. They all jumped back in surprise to stand by Peter; the Accuser’s eyes following them.

“What in the actual fuck?” Peter demanded.

“How is this possible?” Nova Prime gasped in a far more eloquent repetition of Peter’s exclamation.

Drax did not wait for an answer as he moved to tackle the sneering Kree war lord. Unsurprisingly, Drax slammed into the wall behind Ronan, going right through the unflinching ghost. Its purple eyes narrowed while his half-painted lips curled into a deeper sneer.

"And to think, this is one of the pathetic ilk who defeated me.” The Kree groused.

“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” Peter demanded and felt the purple gaze move to him with a strange expression of curiosity combined with irritation.

Ronan stood before them unmoving as he continued to glare. Until Gamora moved to take Peter’s hand. Then that expression became a threatening pout, something Peter wasn’t even aware could be possible. Either way, Gamora didn’t touch Peter’s hand because he yanked his arm away and made a warning growl. Something else he’d been doing as of late. He ignored the triumphant smirk that took over the Kree’s snarl.

“You will release me, Star Lord.” Ronan stated.

"Like Hell.” Peter shook his head and did his best to ignore a sharp tug within him.

“That wasn’t a request,” The booming voice warned. “Nor was it a demand.” He added with a cruel smile.

“How are you even here?” Rocket demanded.

“The how matters not, Rat.” Ronan responded. “Soon, Peter Quill, very soon you will release me.”

“From what?” Peter hadn’t meant to ask that aloud and yet it tumbled out his mouth all the same.

“Is it not obvious, Star Lord?” Ronan smirked.

“The stone!” Gamora’s eyes widened as she grabbed Peter’s arm. “He’s not dead! He’s trapped in the stone somehow!”

As Peter nodded to agree, everything went fuzzy and the next thing he knew, he had his best friend in a nasty chokehold. Of course, whatever hold Ronan had on him just had to be broken when Drax’s full body weight slammed into him at a painful speed. Peter was sure something was gonna break but again, the purple haze returned and he was atop the…whatever Drax was.

“Do NOT touch him again.” Ronan roared, his deep voice filling the small room and pulling the attention back to his ghostly visage.

“We need to get Peter outta here, now!” Rocket insisted. “It’s that stone! It’s gotta be!”

Peter couldn’t help but notice that Ronan’s image flickered as the tall Kree dropped to one knee, his form seeming weak and unstable. With Ronan’s attention apparently off him, Peter got off Drax quickly. He was also able to run, so he did. He ran from the room as fast as he could, taking Rocket’s advice. He didn’t know what was happening or why it had to be him, but what he did know was that he was tired of Ronan hurting his friends through him.

And seriously? What the fuck? How was Ronan even doing that? Why the crap were they connected in such a way? Was it just the stone? Was it because he had physically held it? But if that were the case why couldn’t he feel the others who had touched it before?