I do not own Guardians of the Galaxy or any of the characters.

Man of Honor

Peter stared out through the gate of his cell at the now empty courtyard. Technically, there were no official rules against being in it at night. Technically, no one really had to sleep. But yet, the courtyard remained empty. Almost all of the prisoners were in their cells, sound asleep. Peter knew that Gamora would be awake with a few prisoners, probably to include Drax the Destroyer, outside of her cell, but she could handle herself.

Rocket's plan to escape was good, but they had chosen to wait an extra day to do it. That would give them one more night to rest before escaping. Be that as it may, Peter couldn't sleep. He set his forehead against the wall, listening. He forced his mind to ignore the snoring of a hundred sleeping inmates, loudest of all being Rocket. He could hear the laughs. The taunting. Gamora was definitely not going to be sleeping tonight either.

After a moment, there was a pained shout, and a few seconds later, Gamora was in the courtyard, sitting at one of the tables and then staring down at it. Peter walked out of the cell, stopping at the railing just as several prisoners walked out. At first, he thought it was only five. And thankfully no Drax. But then more began to arrive. Gamora stood, backing away slowly. A dozen. Twenty. Twenty four. Thirty. Peter estimated about thirty five by the time they stopped entering the courtyard. First, they surrounded her. Then, they pulled all of the tables out of the way.

Peter leaned on the railing. He knew that if she wanted to, she could probably beat all of them. At least, he thought she could. She was definitely a million times better a fighter than he was. He never actually learned to fight. He always had his blaster, at least until now. He was kind of jealous. In a brawl, he would almost be at the mercy of whoever he was fighting. And if it was Drax, he'd be dead before he even knew Drax had begun.

The first few charged at Gamora. Three. Not enough. In about four seconds, Gamora had broken two arms, one leg, and probably cracked a skull. All three were out of the fight. More prisoners carried them away before returning. What was this a gauntlet? A friendly win-or-you-die tournament? The next group charged. Six. Once again, not enough. Four seconds in and Gamora had broken one back, three ankles, two thumbs, and had slammed one's head down onto another's. The last member of that group pulled a knife on her before she could get to him, though, and slashed her side. She shouted in pain, backing away in time for another prisoner to grab her hair. Peter saw something in her face he hadn't expected, then: fear.

Instinct kicked in and he dropped over the railing, landing on one of the tables then dropping off, sprinting to the prisoners and ramming his way through the circle. he came out off to the side and sprinted forward. Just as the prisoner with the knife moved to stab her, Peter put his arm in the way, knocking the knife aside before dropping the guy with a well-placed right hook to the temple. He grit his teeth, holding his left arm to his abdomen, blood dripping from the deep gash that stretched from and inch above his wrist to his elbow.

"What are you doing here?" Gamora demanded.

"Apparently I'm making a very stupid decision," Peter said as another prisoner, probably the leader of the gang, stepped forward.

"We ain't got no problem with you, fool," the prisoner said. "You walk away now and we'll forget about you gettin' involved. We just want the bitch."

"Yeah, sorry, but I can't let that happen," Peter said.

"Then I'm afraid we'll have a problem," the prisoner said. "Get him."

Peter crouched, picking up the knife as three prisoners began forward.

"Just walk away Quill," Gamora snapped. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Too late for that," the prisoner in charge said.

One of the prisoners lunged forward a step and Peter instinctively slashed, making the prisoner back away. Then, the other two stepped forward. One reached for Peter's knife hand, and the other threw a punch. Peter slashed the hand reaching for his, the prisoner yelping in pain. Then, the fist connected and Peter stumbled, the other prisoner grabbing him then punching him, sending him staggering at the third. The third push kicked him and Peter stumbled back, tripping over the prisoner he had knocked out and falling onto his back. When he did, one rather large prisoner with red skin and a scar over his left eye dropped to a knee on Peter's chest, his fist connecting with the left side of Peter's jaw. Peter grunted, hand feeling around. Another punch and Peter was seeing stars. A third and his vision was starting to go black. Peter's hand closed around the blade of the knife, his fingers begin cut open. Then, he drove it into the prisoner's head, killing him and rolling him off.

He stood, pulling the knife out and shifting his hand to the grip just in time for the leader to slam a haymaker into Peter's eye. Peter stumbled back, vision going black as both eyes shut on reflex. He dropped the knife as something hit the back of his knees. Then, he could tell that all of the prisoners had moved in because a dozen or so feet began to slam into him for a moment before several prisoners grabbed his arms and legs, holding him spread eagle. Feet and fists began to crash into his entire body. He felt a rib break from a curb stomp, a foot ball kick breaking his nose sideways a moment later. Then a kick hit between his legs and his body briefly lost feeling. As feeling returned, he managed to get his good arm free, catching a foot as it crashed into that side. He rolled, successfully spraining his right ankle but hearing the satisfying sound of a hip being torn out of its socket, accompanied by a shout of pain.

Then, there was another shout and the beating stopped. More pained shouts and the sounds of bones breaking, then of something thick and wet hitting the floor, filled the air. Then, after a moment, all was silent except for Peter's labored breathing. He blinked hard several times but before he could see again, someone was kneeling so that their legs pinned his arms.

"Sorry about this," Gamora's voice said less than a second before she grabbed his nose and pulled, a loud crack filling the room as she reset it.

Peter shouted in pain and she got off of his arms, allowing him to gingerly lift his good one to his nose. He blinked several times again and his vision finally returned, allowing him to see that all but the prisoners she had knocked out at the start were dead, a pair of bloody knives lying on the floor behind Gamora, who was kneeling beside him.

She helped him up and over to one of the tables, sitting him down and tearing a piece of one of the prisoners' shirts off to bandage his arm. She worked in silence, the muscles of her jaw clenching and relaxing as she did, as though she wanted to speak but didn't.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked.

"Am I okay?" she repeated, staring at him blankly. "Is there something wrong with your head? What the hell possessed you to try and fight them? They could have killed you! They were going to kill you! Why the hell would you get involved?"

"You were hurt," Peter said simply.

Gamora stared at him. Peter stared back.

"What?" Gamora finally asked.

"You were hurt," Peter repeated. "You were in danger. I didn't want to see you get hurt for real. So I tried to help. Though, I did a whole lot less than you. You're amazing, by the way. I wish I was half as good as you."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're trained to be a monster," Gamora said.

"You're not a monster," Peter said. "Thank you for saving me, and I'm sorry that I wasn't any help."

"You were," Gamora said, staring at his bandaged arm. "Thank you for coming to my rescue. It was brave. It was stupid, reckless, and impulsive, but brave. I actually probably would have been killed by the one you stopped from stabbing me if you hadn't blocked it. I was able to get free because the one holding me was distracted by you."

"By me getting my ass kicked," Peter corrected, Gamora smiling.

"True," Gamora nodded. "Still though, you have my thanks. I guess I was right, you are a man of honor after all."

She winced, one hand moving to the gash in her side.

"Let me bandage it," Peter said, standing. "It's bleeding pretty bad. You probably tore it open more while you were kicking ass."

"Probably," Gamora nodded.

Peter tore more of the same prisoner's shirt off and returned, Gamora lifting her shirt up high enough for Peter to very carefully, and very gently, hold the cloth against her side then start wrapping the wound. After a couple of minutes, he tied the makeshift bandage off and Gamora pulled her shirt back down into place.

"Thank you," Gamora said, watching Peter carefully.

"You're welcome," Peter said. "Thank you again, for saving me."

"Just returning the favor," Gamora said.

Peter nodded then froze as Gamora leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. After a moment of surprise, Peter kissed her back, his good hand moving to the back of her head, holding her in place, not that she couldn't easily get away if she wanted to. Her own hand moved to the back of his head as well. Then, as if on cue, Rocket had to ruin the moment.

"I would expect a master assassin to have a better way to suffocate someone," Rocket said.

Both instantly pulled away as if they had been shocked, Peter glaring at Rocket and Gamora stared at the table.

"I should, uh, get to bed," Gamora said. "Thank you again Quill."

"Yeah," Peter said, watching her quickly walk away before turning back to Rocket. "Thanks. You just had to ruin it."

"Hey, I'm just looking out for my bounty," Rocket said. "You're more valuable to me alive, so I'd rather you didn't piss off the assassin by seducing her then leaving her like every other broad you've met.

"I wasn't going to seduce her and leave her," Peter said. "I just..."

"What, she tried to kill you and now suddenly you're in love with her?" Rocket snorted.

"No!" Peter said, before his face contorted in confusion. "Maybe. Shit, I don't know. I saw her in danger, I saw her afraid, and I just reacted before I even had time to think about it. She's...I don't know...special."

"She's genetically augmented by Thanos and trained to assassinate since she was a child," Rocket said.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Peter said. "I've known her for about three days, one of which she was trying to kill me, and I...I don't know. I don't want to see her hurt. I want...fuck I don't know. I care about her. Let's just leave it at that."

"You are truly one of the dumbest people I've ever met," Rocket said. "You fell in love with an assassin who tried to kill you two days ago. Are all Terrans this stupid?"

Peter sighed, and carefully pushed himself up.

"I'm going to bed," Peter said, hobbling away. "We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"You realize that once we're rid of the Orb she's going to leave right?" Rocket spoke up, making Peter stop. "You do realize that within a week she's going to go her separate way and I'm probably going to turn you over to Yondu? Hell, she'll probably betray us and split with the Orb as soon as we're out of here. You're never going to see this girl again. Why are you getting so attached when you know that, one way or another, it's not going to work out."

"I don't know," Peter said. "But I can tell you one thing. She's not going to betray us."

"She's using us to betray Ronan," Rocket said. "What's the difference?"

"We're not Ronan, or Thanos," Peter said.

"Yeah, and she already said we're just her way of getting away from them," Rocket said. "She doesn't care about us, or you."

"Maybe, maybe not," Peter said.

"Look all I'm saying is that you shouldn't get attached to someone who has tried to kill you, is currently using you, and is just going to leave you in a matter of days. Keeping her alive is all well and good, we're going to need her to escape and sell the Orb, but don't get too attached."

"Good night Rocket," Peter said. "See you in the morning."

Peter hobbled away from the raccoon and up the stairs, back to his spot in the massively over-full sleeping area and lay down.

Gamora leaned back against the wall, staring off into space. Had she really just heard Peter Quill, a man who routinely seduced and then dumped women for fun, admit to having feelings for her? Had he really just defended her character to Rocket? After she tried to kill him? Everything Rocket said about her was true. She had tried to kill him, she had been planning to use them to escape her father, and she had been planning to ditch them as soon as they were out of the prison. But suddenly, the thought of doing that was a bit harder to swallow. She closed her eyes, trying to think about what to do. Instead, all that her mind was able to conjure up was the ghost of the feeling of kissing Peter. She opened her eyes again and turned, returning to her cell and lying down. She closed her eyes but again all she could think about was the kiss and Peter's words about his feelings toward her.

She finally opened her eyes. She was definitely not sleeping tonight. And as time dragged on, her mind turned more and more toward the thief that had saved her life, nearly at the cost of his own. She knew he hadn't seen the knife that had been moving toward his throat when she had finally managed to break free. She knew he hadn't known that the reason for her wound bleeding worse after she broke free was from her redirecting the knife into her already bad wound in order to save him, then using that knife, and the one Peter had dropped, to kill the prisoners.

By morning, she had totally forgotten her former plan for her future. Peter's words and their kiss replaying through her mind constantly on loop. She wanted another kiss, needed it. So, as soon as the lights came on, she left her cell, going to find Peter, to tell him her new plan for the future. One that did not end with her abandoning the others on some deserted planet. One that involved a companion, for the first time in her life. One that involved a little girl, or maybe a boy, or both. She smiled at the thought. Then, she stepped into the courtyard, looking around for the thief that had stolen her heart.

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