who gamora & quill what clearing the misunderstanding when after her arrival where random rooftop warnings ENDGAME SPOILERS? and angst. lots of angst. also death thoughts. status COMPLETE. i took forever to post it, i am so sorry, emmyness. ♥
Confusion had already dulled her senses, but the exchange with Peter had left her immediately reeling all over again. What had he even meant? Did he not remember what happened? With the limited amount of information she had about being in Tumbleweed, Gamora’s brain was too exhausted to rationalize a single piece of it. So, she did what she had always done best: she ran, she ran right out the front door and stopped only when he asked her to wait. The resolution of as much wasn’t enough to absolve the maelstrom in her heart.
Powered by lingering hurt and a complicated ire, she got momentarily lost in the city. She scaled the tallest building she could find and situated herself perilously on the ledge. Her hands gripped the ledge tightly and only then did she look down and feel immediately overcome by vertigo.
It was a crystal clear night, not a single hint of precipitation on the ground below, but all she snow was a flurry of snow falling around her. The vision was blurred by sudden tears, and she gasped and covered her mouth in surprise. This was all real, this was life now. She was on Terra with her sister, Quill, and Rocket, each of them scattered across different timelines.
What had he been through to believe she would ever forget him?
None of that mattered in the following breath, because she knew one thing to be an absolute: this is exactly what she deserved.
---
It never occurred to Quill that Gamora would show up here.
Call it self preservation, call it stupidity, call it denial -- the point was, he'd not allowed the thought to cross his mind. Not his Gamora. Maybe the Gamora of the past, who'd leapt through time and over the most important of years, to land on the Battlefield with no recollection of who their family or he was. A Gamora who only knew Nebula. This was the only Gamora that he'd considered possible to join them because he'd already let himself get his hopes up once. When he'd seen her on the Battlefield and he'd reached out to her; only to find himself on the ground looking up at her with her looking down upon him with no recollection of who he was.
He didn't let himself consider an alternative.
It didn't matter that he was told he'd been there before and he'd seen evidence of it in Rocket's home. That was before and this was now. It hadn't been possible.
And yet, by refusing to consider it, he'd missed how obvious it was that his Gamora was reaching out to them. The Gamora of the past, or the Future, (honestly how could you label it?) wouldn't have apologized for fleeing. She had no allegiance to any of them sans Nebula. It was right in front of his face and he'd not only missed it, he'd hurt her by missing it.
Trying to find her now was a bit more complicated than he'd have wanted it to be. He didn't know this town well enough and he couldn't quite guess where she might flee to. He'd managed to have the forethought to snatch up the tracker he'd jerry-rigged out of his old electronic football game and began changing the schematics as he walked so it could pick up on Gamora's life force. Soon enough, it was beeping and he drew in a breath. "Alright, where are you," he whispered, letting the tracker guide him through the foreign streets until he eventually saw an unassuming building. His gaze panned up and he stood there for a few moments, blinking through the snow to watch the figure he could only just make out. Another moment passed before he activated his boots, using the momentum to leap up to join her on the roof.
For a moment, he just stood at the edge, staring at her.
--
The familiar sound of his shoes stirred her thoughts, though she didn’t move a muscle--not at first. Gamora was not the sort of woman to sit there picturing a rose-colored reunion with her family, especially when she believed wholeheartedly that Thanos had won because she could not bear to see Nebula tortured a second longer. Her sister had endured enough, and so she had condemned the universe to a worse fate.
His presence did sprout love, because that had never faded. For a long time, it felt, she stayed silent and stared down at the ground far below. Her head was spinning, heart racing. Had she succeeded and made her way back to him and their family, where would they be now? Still getting in trouble with governments across the galaxy?
Only then did Gamora lift the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. It had hurt that he didn’t recognize her, but knowing the nature of the place (to some degree) did help. After all, they had a history of miscommunication. Knowing he and Rocket were there from Nebula had eased Gamora’s nerves initially, but the failure weighing on her shoulders worried away at the relief. It left her torn between wanting to stand and latch on to him, or leaping down to the ground and running as far as she could. She chose neither.
“You followed,” she replied emptily, sniffing in frustration over her emotions. Only then did she chance a glassy-eyed look his way. “I’m glad.”
--
He didn't move but his gaze remained on her, even though she'd not turned to look at him. His eyes were studying her now. He wasn't surprised by her presence like he'd been on the Battlefield and so he was observant of everything. The way she wiped at her eyes, demonstrating emotion freely in front of him, the way she her her guard down and in the way her words sounded against the cool breeze. Had there been any doubt before now it would have been obliterated.
His chest began to rise and fall in rapid breaths, as his fingers tightened around the tracker against his palm. She'd spoken to him and it took a moment to find words. He'd still not moved any closer.
"You said I could," he replied in a voice so much quieter than his standard. He didn't know what to say now. What could he say? That he was sorry for a knee jerk reaction that made sense to him alone? That he'd failed her memory by deflecting from the plan to take down her Father? That he'd have done anything to have traded places with her?
That he loved her more than anything, too?
He swallowed.
---
If she were honest with herself, she would say she had genuinely wanted him to follow her. Instead she stared almost blankly at him, the unsteady rise and fall of his breath doing nothing to center her own. It hadn’t been that long since she had begged him to kill her, not in the grand scheme of things. How long had it been for him though? He looked older in some ways, but not aged in the way her sister sounded rather than looked.
In the cool air, she could almost see fragments of her breath as she struggled to rise to her feet. At least she had died in her jacket, she supposed. This wasn’t some sort of after-life, she noted. Pausing to answer a message on her phone, like that could buy her more time to gather her thoughts, she seemed to falter at something she read to the point that she completely dropped the device.
“He’s dead?” She questioned, eyes wide as she looked to Peter again for validation. “My father? I did not die for--for nothing?”
--
His eyes flashed to the device in her hand. Of course she had it. It was how he'd even known she was here. His gaze lowered just slightly as she responded to whatever was on the phone, his own hands moving to worry the tracker between both his hands, before his gaze snapped back up at the sound of the device hitting the roof below their feet. The tracker got stuffed away.
"What?" It was an instinctual reaction, spoken before the words processed, and he realized what she meant. Who she meant. Of course.
A look of shame crossed over his features that he could not mask. "He -- yes. Thanos is dead." No thanks to Quill. This hadn't been lost on him these past few weeks, living among the residents of Tumbleweed, but he'd not dwelled. He'd been thinking about other things. His desire to remain with Rocket and Nebula, but also the pull to get back to their Galaxy so they could find the Gamora of the past. The one who didn't have a family because she'd run.
The one who wasn't in front of him now.
---
Ultimately, her failure had culminated in a success. She looked sad, relieved, and bewildered all in the same instance. Looking at his shameful expression brought her back to the present, and a habit she could never lose compelled her to place her now empty hand at his cheek. She searched his eyes for more answers, because this was a sensitive issue; it didn’t take much to acknowledge that. Thanos’s death meant something different to him.
“I let all of you down, Peter, and that’s why I’m sorry. Whatever you had to go through, it’s…” And just like that, she retracted her hand to her chest, fist balled in guilt. “It’s my fault. Whatever version of me you were expecting, I almost wish I were her.
---
It took all of his will not to crumble at the touch of her hand to his cheek. There was a tilt of his head, toward the touch, but his eyes shut and lips pulled in. As if trying to keep from doing so. He was trying so hard. He'd not thought he'd ever feel her fingertips against him again, nor the sound of concern in her voice.
This was all supposed to be gone.
His own tears were fighting to fall, despite how hard he clenched his eyes shut, and he only opened them to look upon her as she spoke. He disagreed and it was as clear as day from his initial expression. Any crack in his will, that would have made him crumble, was ignored now as he shook his head. "No."
He took a step closer, reaching his own hand out, folding it over top of her fist. "You could never let us down, 'Mora. Do you hear me?"
--
It felt like the entire universe was crashing down on them. Her father was dead, Peter was hurt, Rocket, Groot, and Nebula had been through who knew what--she didn’t have the ability to process any of this information. Then, Peter said no and stopped the gears from spinning wildly out of control, at least for a split second. Hadn’t she though? She stared at him quietly, uncertain of what more she could say or do. The chance to see him like this again had been a pipedream, she’d known that from the moment she had first set eyes on Nebula suspended in torture for Thanos’s pleasure. The fate of the universe had been sealed.
His hand upon hers prompted her to twist it about and lace her fingers through his as an old habit. Head bowed, she inched closer to him until her head rested against his shoulder, not to demand to be held, but just to feel his warmth again. It may not have been that long, but the distance between them was palpable.
Tears began to fall again. “It’s over now, isn’t it?”
--
He pulled in a shaky breath as their fingers entwined and without any hesitation, his head tilted down to rest against the top of hers. As he did so, his free hand came around to press against the small of her back, keeping her close to him. She may not have been demanding the embrace but it was one he could provide and one he wanted in turn.
"We don't have to worry about him anymore," he whispered. And the simple fact that he was able to say we made him bend his head down to press his lips to the crown of her head. "But the rest of it? No. It's not over."
Not while they had here.
--
That was what she needed to hear for the floodgates to open. Clutching his hand, her other hand curled tighter into his clothing as she let out a loud cry. It hadn’t been the side she wanted to show her sister, an emotional wreck lost in space. She had tried to be strong, because Gamora had failed to do so in the first place.
Head pounding and fists quivering, she didn’t bother to try and reel those emotions back in. They’d been closed off tight all day, and if there was anyone she could let down those walls with, it was Peter. After begging him to kill her, watching the plan fail miserably, saving her sister for what she gathered was a worse life, and then falling--Gamora couldn’t comprehend why this is where fate decided she got to land.
Thanos had killed her, killed her because she was the only thing his monstrous heart believed he loved. She was still on that icy cliff and being thrown over on repeat, or so her brain tried to tell her. So, the cries slowed and she tried to breathe in his scent as much she could to center herself, but it kept coming over and over in waves crashing down on her. It felt like she had been crying for hours when the despair settled into the comfort he provided. “I don’t know what I’d do if it was, Peter,” she whispered shakily, not daring to move for fear the moment would suddenly shatter into a million, tiny fragments of snow meant to be her grave.
--
His arm tightened around her and he bowed his head enough to rest his forehead to the spot he'd just kissed. He couldn't even imagine what it felt like for her, coming from the final moments of her life, and knowing nothing was going to prevent the inevitable. And after all she'd done to try to prevent her Father from harming the Galaxy, for everything to come to an end at his hands? It was cruel and devastating.
He swallowed hard, noting how much he hated the sound of her grief, as his own tears managed to escape despite him. But he didn't release her or loosen his grip. With everything having been pulled away from her, including her future, he needed her to know that this was one thing she could depend on to remain. He was going to be here for as long as he could and that would never change as long as he had say.
"We aren't going to find out," he returned, pulling back just enough to be able to open his eyes to look down at her. His hand moved from the small of her back and came up underneath her chin to guide it up so she'd look at him. "I'm here, with you, always."
--
This was love. Here with Peter, safe in his embrace, she felt some of that weight lift. Leave it to him not to blame her for what she assumed was the death of billions across not only the galaxy, but the entire universe. He would have been right to do so. No, Peter looked at her with love, the kind that couldn’t pull the trigger for anything except to save the world, not mold it into one he thought perfect.
She reached up to cup the side of his face, thumb absently smoothing away evidence of his tears and she mustered a weak smile. Physically, she was exhausted. The shaking her body experienced was trauma, though she didn’t consciously acknowledge it. To have the last sight burned into her mind’s eye be that of her unwanted father mourning his decision, his so-called sacrifice, made Gamora want to heave, but she didn’t.
The only emotion she wanted to revel in was what she felt for Peter. A very slight boost was all it took to graze his lips with her own, a kiss not intended to be short and sweet, but her legs practically gave out on her. Catching herself against him, his grip a saving grace, she could have laughed had she the energy.
“I missed you, Peter,” Gamora responded quietly, as if it were a secret between only them. “And when you said those things, I thought it was…” Unstable on her own feet, Gamora gripped his hand and slowly lowered herself back down to the ledge to sit. She tugged on his hand, silently requesting that he sit with her. “For a moment, I thought this might be the soul stone. Maybe it is, I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m with you again, that’s all that matters.”
--
His responses were automatic and natural following years of time with Gamora. His head leaning toward her hand, seeking out the touch that was given to him, as a free hand came up to cover hers against his skin. He didn't want to let go of her or this moment. Did she realize how much it meant to him? To simply have her exist, as he'd known and loved her, once again? For her to have a life once again?
His shoulders gave some way to the kiss and he'd intended to wrap his arms around her, to clutch her close, and not break the embrace for some time. He wanted to pour everything into that kiss. But she was slipping and the exhaustion she felt was evident. He gripped her close to prevent a fall, a flash of concern across his features.
"I missed you so much," he responded, his voice giving a crack, as he shook his head. She was moving to sit and he followed suit. Instantly, an arm moved to envelop around her shoulders and pull her close to him. He pressed another kiss to her forehead before nodding in understanding.
"It'd make sense if it was." He was fairly certain if one were to build a dream around the desires of his soul, it'd be something similar. It'd be her and always her. He pulled in a breath, a need to explain his earlier statements there, but he didn't release her. "Rocket, and the Avengers, they...they went back in time to try to stop Thanos. They gathered all the stones. And they brought almost everyone back." His head turned and he rested his forehead against her hair, shutting his eyes. "Thanos got wind of it, somehow, and he sent you and Nebula to try to stop it. To the future."
This was his understanding of it all, at least, after conversation. "You are alive but it's you from before you knew any of us. Only Nebula."
She hated to wonder how long it had been for him since he’d last seen her. For her, though she would be loathe to say as much out loud, it had been simply too long. Too long, too rife with hardship, and it had all been bottled up in what amounted to be a short amount of time. Despite the internal conflict on the matter, one thing rested as an absolute: she still felt like she was falling down.
The pieces of what her sister had said at the Bureau earlier and what he gave her now coalesced. She slid closer into him, if at all possible, and hid her face in the brook of his neck. If she just kept her eyes closed and senses overwhelmed by the scent and sound of him, perhaps she could forget that she could hit that icy bottom at any given moment.
“I understand the confusion now,” muffled Gamora, fingers twisting nervously in his shirt. “It was hard on you, Peter. On all of you. I’m…” Her attempt to apologize for something well out of her hands went unannounced. She knew he wouldn’t want to hear it anymore than she wanted to feel compelled to even offer it.
“I’m tired,” she opted to say instead. “Take me home?”