[ He's quiet for a moment, considering his own question. Even with all the similarities falling between them, little shockingly serendipitous echoes, he still finds himself wondering about a million things.
How the hell this other Peter came to space, for one. Because his own experience – and, shockingly, this Gamora's – had been less than pleasant.
His gaze slips down to the table, and he takes a slow, steadying breath. He's not entirely sure if he wants the answer. ]
Is Terra— does Earth still live in this universe?
[ Because the Peter Quill of this world either somehow escaped Thanos' razing, much like Gamora, or else Thanos has yet to set his gaze on the planet. ]
[ Interesting. Gamora isn't surprised it took Peter so long to ask about Earth specifically; he has such an appreciation for Earth culture and his own nostalgia (the Peter she knows, at least), but he's never returned to his home planet, despite having the means for years. It stands to reason that any other Peter might be reluctant to go home, too. ]
Yes. They haven't developed sophisticated space travel yet, but the planet seems to be thriving.
[ She wonders if this Peter finds that compelling. ]
[ He's not entirely sure how to feel about that. The first and easiest sensation to parse is relief. Reassurance. Perhaps this was a kinder universe, he thinks – though only to a certain degree.
(He does, after all, see his own history in a mirror sitting across from him.)
The second feeling, and something slightly more complicated, slightly more selfish, is a small degree of envy, a bittersweet longing for a home he can't return to. His own family is dead, slaughtered before him, save for his mother – the one and only time Peter considered her sickness a mixed blessing. He wonders after the fate of the Quill family in this universe. And if they're alive, he wonders if this Peter Quill knows what a gift he still has. ]
You must visit often.
[ A question hiding in a statement – it's not his turn, after all. ]
[ Gamora's brow lifts imperceptibly, silver glinting in the low ship lighting. Interesting. ]
One would think.
[ Because Peter still has living family – or he might. But he refuses to go back and find out. It drives Gamora a little insane sometimes, but she knows perfectly well that pushing Peter on the topic won't get them anywhere.
This Peter, however. ]
Do you want to see it?
[ Technically, a question. But she can pull up a display of Earth in a heartbeat and let Peter take a look. ]
[ For a second, he's startled by the question, though the signs of it are only visible in the details: the slightest straightening of his posture, the minute movement of his head, the way his focus on her intensifies. ]
If it's possible.
[ The answer isn't thoughtless, but it's certainly quick – as much of a vehement yes as this Peter is possible of giving.
(The answer was never going to be anything but yes.) ]
[ Gamora gives a short nod, then pushes herself away from the table. She moves deliberately, letting Peter see that her hand is nowhere near Godslayer.
In front of a display, she quickly taps away, pulling up a holographic projection of modern Earth, in its full glory. She flicks her fingers once and the projection shifts across the table, stopping in front of Peter. The digital blue glow catches on his scars, and Gamora watches quietly as he's presented with his home. ]
[ With the small steps forward they've made, Peter still can't quite tamp down the instinct to be wary – it's why he's silently appreciative of the purposeful way she moves, the effort she takes to be predictable, the way she keeps her hands well away from the sword at her hip.
His gaze slowly slides to the projection in front of him, and unconsciously, he leans forward a little, examining it with only partially disguised interest. It's so much like the half-remembered photographs from his text books – the green and blue marble, as his teachers so poetically named it. He didn't have the luxury of seeing the Earth from orbit when Thanos departed with him – largely, Peter thinks, because he was unconscious at the time, but partially because he doubts Thanos would have offered him that kindness. He's not entirely sure if he would have wanted the imprint of a world on fire as his parting memory of the planet, anyway.
By sight, he marks out the geographical landmarks he can remember from a childhood spent paying only partial attention to his lessons. He lifts a hand – much like Gamora, even as distracted as he admittedly is, he's careful to telegraph his movements – and touches the projection, turning it gently like one might examine a physical globe. He turns the projection until he's faced with the United States.
How different might his Earth and this Peter Quill's Earth be? Based on this projection, it appears identical, at least. A more fanciful part of his mind, something atrophied with its rare use, conjures images of humans with necks like giraffes, and he can't help the quirk of a smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.
He's quick to shove the thought away. ]
I was from there.
[ This, with a quick tap against the projection – Missouri, or thereabouts.
Another gesture, as he turns the projection then taps at a location on South Asia. ]
Thanos landed here, then swept west.
[ His gaze slides to Gamora then. Alternate realities being what they are, he's not entirely sure how helpful this information may be to these Guardians. Still, he doubts it would hurt. ]
If the Thanos of this world still lives, if he's hunting for the Stones as he did in my universe, he may set his eyes on Earth, at some point.
[ Gamora absorbs his reaction as much as she can, trying to pick out details or small tells. But this Peter has learned a... painful kind of unreadable that Gamora knows too intimately (because she knows what it takes to school a face as expressive as Peter's).
It makes her ache.
She doesn't track Peter as closely now, doesn't watch him like she's waiting for him to pull a small knife; instead, she focuses on the projection of Earth as Peter indicates—
— oh.
His home.
Her eyes flick over the continent, memorizing the shape, the location...
She's quickly distracted from her own curiosity by the bitter taste of familiar memory as Peter speaks (no longer the swell of choking grief that used to accompany remembering the day Thanos came to her planet, but something that still sits like ash on her tongue). The information, however... Gamora has largely avoided dealing with her father up until now – she's been more preoccupied with staying as far away as possible – but she knows that Peter is making an excellent point. ]
[ He lowers his head a little – resignation, mostly. A touch of disappointment. Evidently it's too much to ask that Thanos might want to take a break from tearing apart the galaxy. He did always preach diligence, and how one must be willing to sacrifice all else in the efforts to achieve one's goals.
He lets out a quiet breath, reaching out to turnthe globe back to North America. His fingertips press lightly against the projection to keep it from gently spinning. His gaze immediately finds Missouri again – or, at least, the area that he vaguely remembers it resides. Images of Earth from his universe look far less... verdant. It still bears the scars from the day Thanos landed.
This, though, more closely resembles his memories from childhood. It's a relief to see it so alive.
Reluctantly, he pulls back, lets the projection resume its lazy spin. He lets himself watch as the continent slips away, and once it reaches the edge, he returns his attention to Gamora.
His jaw clenches briefly – hesitation and uncertainty, more than anything – before he offers a slightly stilted, ]
[ Gamora doesn't break the silence stretching between them. She lets Peter have this moment – brief though it may be – to admire a home long since lost to him.
The gratitude still catches her off-guard, but she offers a small nod of acknowledgement. "You're welcome," without putting emphasis on the favor itself. ]
We might find reason to return to the Sol system while we try to get you home.
[ Some half-remembered quote comes to mind: I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse.
He can't help but breathe out a quiet, rueful laugh. ]
Only if there's a legitimate reason.
I'm sure your Peter Quill wouldn't appreciate your taking me sight-seeing, especially not if he's as anxious to return as you all are to have him back.
[ The answer is easily given; he doesn't have any doubts, honestly. His team isn't too dissimilar from this universe's Guardians – save for the woman across from him, obviously. But the Gamora he knows has always had an altruistic streak, for as much as he accuses her of pride and selfishness. ]
They may be wary of him, but I don't doubt he'll be treated— [ Ah, and here he hesitates. He was going to say, "treated well," but considering his team, considering the abrasive personalities contained therein, that's a topic worthy of debate.
He corrects, ] He'll be treated as well as you expect.
[ That's the answer Gamora was ultimately hoping for. She would never expect full and thoughtless hospitality to be offered to Peter in that other universe, but she does expect him to return whole and hale. ]
Good enough.
[ If Peter causes trouble? Sure, he's got it coming. But if he can play nice with the other children long enough to get back to Gamora, she'll consider that a win. ]
[ His tone is certain, unequivocal, where the other Peter might try for gentle, for sympathetic. ]
Gamora— the Gamora I know, I mean, is well-connected. She and Rocket will think of something.
[ The Ravager network is vast and far-reaching, after all. He can think of at least one of its members who's capable of wielding magic, even if he can't recall his name. ]
[ While there's none of the familiar comfort Gamora might usually find in her Peter, something about this Quill's certainty is equally a balm on her nerves. ]
You have a lot of faith in her.
[ It's not exactly an exposing observation, considering how much she's accidentally tipped her own hand thus far. She's not so wrapped in her own pride that she believes she's maintained an air of aloofness with this man; she's too off-kilter for a million different reasons to convincingly act like she's above the emotional ramifications of this hiccup.]
[ Simple as that, and as succinct as the response is, there's resolve in it, too, and just the barest edge of fondness.
Even if he can think of about a dozen complaints regarding her character, her work ethic, her ability to focus, he knows that when something is important enough, she'll pull it together. She's led the Guardians through enough scraps to earn his loyalty – although, maybe not his unquestioning loyalty, because each Guardian is nothing but a contrarian.
A muscle in jaw tics, then, and when he speaks, there's a thread of humor in his voice. ]
I can't promise he'll return entirely sober.
[ The Guardians were so fond of drinking as a team-bonding activity, after all. ]
[ The light flicker of humor surprises Gamora enough to get a more genuine smile from her, but she ducks her gaze towards the wall to conceal it. Her own tone is, however, similarly hinting at a joke. ]
And he'll probably be better for it.
[ Maybe if he's drunk, he'll be a little less stressed while he's trapped in another dimension. ]
It sounds like they'll get along well.
[ They probably won't spend the first part of their acquaintance circling each other like dogs in a fighting pit, so that's bound to be a smoother transition. ]
[ The observation draws a reluctant huff from him, something that's amused at its edge. ]
All the more reason for me to get back. I fear for the integrity of the ship.
[ Peter has the unenviable task of tempering some of the other Guardians' more explosive instincts, after all. And with Rocket and Gamora left to their own devices—
Well. He'll be lucky if there's even a ship to return to.
He shakes his head, dismissing the thought, before glancing up at her again. ]
How did he— [ This, with a small gesture. No need to specify whom. ] —come to leave Earth?
[ Ah, how much to disclose here? Maybe just broad strokes. ]
He was abducted rather than rescued by Ravagers – a captain who was paid to retrieve him.
[ "By whom" might be a bit much for this Peter (even if Gamora realizes there's no guarantee this Quill also had Ego for a father). ]
Did—
[ Gamora starts asking her next question, but as she opens her mouth, the very distinct intro for "Come and Get Your Love" blasts over the ship speakers, and Gamora shoots right out of her seat. As the first lyrics kick in, Gamora recovers enough to snarl over the noise, ]
[ His eyes narrow slightly as she offers that bit of information; he vaguely remembers Ego telling him about hiring the Ravagers to transport Peter from Missouri to Ego's planet, only they had arrived too late.
The sudden noise has him similarly springing to his feet, his hand instinctively going to his sword.
It takes him a blink to register it as music.
It takes the same amount of time to register it as achingly familiar.
He falters briefly, expression going slack. His voice is little more than a croak when he finally speaks. ]
[ Gamora exhales a frustrated breath through her nose, her hackles finally settling as Rocket turns down the music (with some token muttering and griping she can hear a whole deck below). She looks back over at Peter, and it's only then that the reality – the true weight of another stark loss – becomes clearer for Gamora. The sheer volume of memories and keepsakes that her Peter has kept all these years feels as precious as gold when she realizes how much has been stolen from this man.
She rests her fingertips on the table (away from her sword), nodding once. ]
Clones of Meredith's music. [ And a rigged up Zune, but she imagines Peter would care a lot more about his mother's own favorites. ]
[ For a split second, he feels a strange twist behind his sternum. It's childish, he knows, but he immediately recognizes the bitter sensation as envy.
The universe was much kinder to this Peter Quill, it seems. He forces himself to quash the incipient resentment before it can fully take root.
He swallows around the dryness of his throat, and his gaze darts to the overhead, in the general direction of the flight deck, but he's focusing on something far, far away. ]
My mother made me tapes of the songs she loved growing up. I had the tape player on me the day Thanos' forces arrived.
[ Unconsciously, his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword – old anger, old fear. Once he notices what he's doing, he shakes himself and immediately makes an effort to loosen his grip, to let his hand drop to his side. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
How the hell this other Peter came to space, for one. Because his own experience – and, shockingly, this Gamora's – had been less than pleasant.
His gaze slips down to the table, and he takes a slow, steadying breath. He's not entirely sure if he wants the answer. ]
Is Terra— does Earth still live in this universe?
[ Because the Peter Quill of this world either somehow escaped Thanos' razing, much like Gamora, or else Thanos has yet to set his gaze on the planet. ]
no subject
Yes. They haven't developed sophisticated space travel yet, but the planet seems to be thriving.
[ She wonders if this Peter finds that compelling. ]
no subject
(He does, after all, see his own history in a mirror sitting across from him.)
The second feeling, and something slightly more complicated, slightly more selfish, is a small degree of envy, a bittersweet longing for a home he can't return to. His own family is dead, slaughtered before him, save for his mother – the one and only time Peter considered her sickness a mixed blessing. He wonders after the fate of the Quill family in this universe. And if they're alive, he wonders if this Peter Quill knows what a gift he still has. ]
You must visit often.
[ A question hiding in a statement – it's not his turn, after all. ]
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One would think.
[ Because Peter still has living family – or he might. But he refuses to go back and find out. It drives Gamora a little insane sometimes, but she knows perfectly well that pushing Peter on the topic won't get them anywhere.
This Peter, however. ]
Do you want to see it?
[ Technically, a question. But she can pull up a display of Earth in a heartbeat and let Peter take a look. ]
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If it's possible.
[ The answer isn't thoughtless, but it's certainly quick – as much of a vehement yes as this Peter is possible of giving.
(The answer was never going to be anything but yes.) ]
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In front of a display, she quickly taps away, pulling up a holographic projection of modern Earth, in its full glory. She flicks her fingers once and the projection shifts across the table, stopping in front of Peter. The digital blue glow catches on his scars, and Gamora watches quietly as he's presented with his home. ]
no subject
His gaze slowly slides to the projection in front of him, and unconsciously, he leans forward a little, examining it with only partially disguised interest. It's so much like the half-remembered photographs from his text books – the green and blue marble, as his teachers so poetically named it. He didn't have the luxury of seeing the Earth from orbit when Thanos departed with him – largely, Peter thinks, because he was unconscious at the time, but partially because he doubts Thanos would have offered him that kindness. He's not entirely sure if he would have wanted the imprint of a world on fire as his parting memory of the planet, anyway.
By sight, he marks out the geographical landmarks he can remember from a childhood spent paying only partial attention to his lessons. He lifts a hand – much like Gamora, even as distracted as he admittedly is, he's careful to telegraph his movements – and touches the projection, turning it gently like one might examine a physical globe. He turns the projection until he's faced with the United States.
How different might his Earth and this Peter Quill's Earth be? Based on this projection, it appears identical, at least. A more fanciful part of his mind, something atrophied with its rare use, conjures images of humans with necks like giraffes, and he can't help the quirk of a smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.
He's quick to shove the thought away. ]
I was from there.
[ This, with a quick tap against the projection – Missouri, or thereabouts.
Another gesture, as he turns the projection then taps at a location on South Asia. ]
Thanos landed here, then swept west.
[ His gaze slides to Gamora then. Alternate realities being what they are, he's not entirely sure how helpful this information may be to these Guardians. Still, he doubts it would hurt. ]
If the Thanos of this world still lives, if he's hunting for the Stones as he did in my universe, he may set his eyes on Earth, at some point.
no subject
It makes her ache.
She doesn't track Peter as closely now, doesn't watch him like she's waiting for him to pull a small knife; instead, she focuses on the projection of Earth as Peter indicates—
— oh.
His home.
Her eyes flick over the continent, memorizing the shape, the location...
She's quickly distracted from her own curiosity by the bitter taste of familiar memory as Peter speaks (no longer the swell of choking grief that used to accompany remembering the day Thanos came to her planet, but something that still sits like ash on her tongue). The information, however... Gamora has largely avoided dealing with her father up until now – she's been more preoccupied with staying as far away as possible – but she knows that Peter is making an excellent point. ]
He's alive.
And I'm sure searching for the Stones.
no subject
He lets out a quiet breath, reaching out to turnthe globe back to North America. His fingertips press lightly against the projection to keep it from gently spinning. His gaze immediately finds Missouri again – or, at least, the area that he vaguely remembers it resides. Images of Earth from his universe look far less... verdant. It still bears the scars from the day Thanos landed.
This, though, more closely resembles his memories from childhood. It's a relief to see it so alive.
Reluctantly, he pulls back, lets the projection resume its lazy spin. He lets himself watch as the continent slips away, and once it reaches the edge, he returns his attention to Gamora.
His jaw clenches briefly – hesitation and uncertainty, more than anything – before he offers a slightly stilted, ]
Thank you.
no subject
The gratitude still catches her off-guard, but she offers a small nod of acknowledgement. "You're welcome," without putting emphasis on the favor itself. ]
We might find reason to return to the Sol system while we try to get you home.
[ If Peter... wants to see it in person. ]
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He can't help but breathe out a quiet, rueful laugh. ]
Only if there's a legitimate reason.
I'm sure your Peter Quill wouldn't appreciate your taking me sight-seeing, especially not if he's as anxious to return as you all are to have him back.
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If there's a reason.
[ An easy agreement to make, though she wouldn't be surprised if their search takes them through the Milky Way.
She hesitates before asking, ]
Your team. Do you think they'll help him?
[ She'd be surprised if these other Guardians ditched Quill fully, but she's learned not to expect kindness as a default. ]
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[ The answer is easily given; he doesn't have any doubts, honestly. His team isn't too dissimilar from this universe's Guardians – save for the woman across from him, obviously. But the Gamora he knows has always had an altruistic streak, for as much as he accuses her of pride and selfishness. ]
They may be wary of him, but I don't doubt he'll be treated— [ Ah, and here he hesitates. He was going to say, "treated well," but considering his team, considering the abrasive personalities contained therein, that's a topic worthy of debate.
He corrects, ] He'll be treated as well as you expect.
They won't hurt him if he doesn't deserve it.
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Good enough.
[ If Peter causes trouble? Sure, he's got it coming. But if he can play nice with the other children long enough to get back to Gamora, she'll consider that a win. ]
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They'll look after him.
[ His tone is certain, unequivocal, where the other Peter might try for gentle, for sympathetic. ]
Gamora— the Gamora I know, I mean, is well-connected. She and Rocket will think of something.
[ The Ravager network is vast and far-reaching, after all. He can think of at least one of its members who's capable of wielding magic, even if he can't recall his name. ]
no subject
You have a lot of faith in her.
[ It's not exactly an exposing observation, considering how much she's accidentally tipped her own hand thus far. She's not so wrapped in her own pride that she believes she's maintained an air of aloofness with this man; she's too off-kilter for a million different reasons to convincingly act like she's above the emotional ramifications of this hiccup.]
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I do.
[ Simple as that, and as succinct as the response is, there's resolve in it, too, and just the barest edge of fondness.
Even if he can think of about a dozen complaints regarding her character, her work ethic, her ability to focus, he knows that when something is important enough, she'll pull it together. She's led the Guardians through enough scraps to earn his loyalty – although, maybe not his unquestioning loyalty, because each Guardian is nothing but a contrarian.
A muscle in jaw tics, then, and when he speaks, there's a thread of humor in his voice. ]
I can't promise he'll return entirely sober.
[ The Guardians were so fond of drinking as a team-bonding activity, after all. ]
no subject
And he'll probably be better for it.
[ Maybe if he's drunk, he'll be a little less stressed while he's trapped in another dimension. ]
It sounds like they'll get along well.
[ They probably won't spend the first part of their acquaintance circling each other like dogs in a fighting pit, so that's bound to be a smoother transition. ]
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All the more reason for me to get back. I fear for the integrity of the ship.
[ Peter has the unenviable task of tempering some of the other Guardians' more explosive instincts, after all. And with Rocket and Gamora left to their own devices—
Well. He'll be lucky if there's even a ship to return to.
He shakes his head, dismissing the thought, before glancing up at her again. ]
How did he— [ This, with a small gesture. No need to specify whom. ] —come to leave Earth?
no subject
He was abducted rather than rescued by Ravagers – a captain who was paid to retrieve him.
[ "By whom" might be a bit much for this Peter (even if Gamora realizes there's no guarantee this Quill also had Ego for a father). ]
Did—
[ Gamora starts asking her next question, but as she opens her mouth, the very distinct intro for "Come and Get Your Love" blasts over the ship speakers, and Gamora shoots right out of her seat. As the first lyrics kick in, Gamora recovers enough to snarl over the noise, ]
Rocket! Turn it down!
no subject
The sudden noise has him similarly springing to his feet, his hand instinctively going to his sword.
It takes him a blink to register it as music.
It takes the same amount of time to register it as achingly familiar.
He falters briefly, expression going slack. His voice is little more than a croak when he finally speaks. ]
... You have music from Earth.
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She rests her fingertips on the table (away from her sword), nodding once. ]
Clones of Meredith's music. [ And a rigged up Zune, but she imagines Peter would care a lot more about his mother's own favorites. ]
no subject
The universe was much kinder to this Peter Quill, it seems. He forces himself to quash the incipient resentment before it can fully take root.
He swallows around the dryness of his throat, and his gaze darts to the overhead, in the general direction of the flight deck, but he's focusing on something far, far away. ]
My mother made me tapes of the songs she loved growing up. I had the tape player on me the day Thanos' forces arrived.
[ Unconsciously, his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword – old anger, old fear. Once he notices what he's doing, he shakes himself and immediately makes an effort to loosen his grip, to let his hand drop to his side. ]
A Chitauri foot soldier destroyed it.