Guess who has two thumbs and is using fan fiction as a way to cope with being trapped inside for four days thanks to the hurricane?! This chick! For real though, please keep Texas (Houston especially) in your thoughts/prayers if you can; the flooding is unprecedented and a lot of people have lost everything. I love you all very much and I'm happy to be here with you now!

A/N: I own nothing =/

Peter is sad.

Groot stands in the doorway, fidgeting with one of the wayward vines that have sprouted from his arm and staring at his friend. The human is sitting on his bunk, staring out the window at the stars that stretch out in front of him. He's still and quiet, a dead giveaway that something is wrong, and he doesn't even seem to notice the tiny tree creature standing in his doorway.

Groot frowns and shuffles a bit. He doesn't like seeing Peter sad and Peter has been sad a lot lately. He's been sad ever since they destroyed that planet and the blue man died even though he doesn't say it. Groot is still young but he understands that; he misses the blue man too. Peter is sad and Groot doesn't like it.

He hesitates in the doorway for a few more seconds before making a decision. He knows what will help, what will make Peter happy again. It's something that always helps. He turns and makes his way down the hall toward the front of the ship, silently pleased with his idea.

He finds what he's looking for sitting in the chair Peter usually uses. It's not heavy but it's about as big as he is and it takes some effort to get it off the chair and tucked in his arms so he's sure he's not going to drop it. He grins to himself triumphantly and turns back toward the hall, nearly tripping twice over the cords that snake out of the bundle in his arms. He manages to stay upright though and takes off in a stumbling jog back toward Peter's room.

The human is still sitting in the same place when he gets back, silent and staring out the window like he's carved of marble. He looks sad and that makes Groot sad. The tiny tree creature tugs his prize a little closer to his chest and walks into the room.

"I am Groot," he says by way of greeting, small voice croaky and splintery as he speaks.

Peter blinks and looks over, seeming to just now realize he has a visitor. He smiles faintly but it doesn't reach his eyes; the expression seems forced and hollow. "Hey, Treebeard, whacha got there?"

"I am Groot," the tiny Guardian tells him, holding up the bundle above his head. He grins broadly when the human's eyes light up just a little in recognition.

"Hey, good job, I was looking for that," Peter says with another small smile, reaching down and allowing Groot to climb into the palm of his hand.

The tree creature sets the music player in his hand with a satisfied little smile and plops down in his palm. "I am Groot," he says again, adding a bit more emphasis toward the end. He's very pleased with the gift and it makes Peter smile so it's worth it.

He scales Peter's arm easily and the human sits still and patient until he reaches his shoulder. Once there, he settles into the juncture between Peter's neck and shoulder and grabs a tiny fistful of the human's shirt to keep his balance.

Peter offers him another small, half-hearted smile and untangles the headphones from the where they're wrapped around the music player. "Alright, pal, any requests?" he asks, flipping the power on and passing one of the earbuds to his companion.

Groot takes the offered earbud and sets in his lap, turning his attention to the digital screen lit up in front of him. He frowns in concentration for a second and reaches out to scroll through the list of songs that appear on the screen. There are so many more to choose from on this device than there were on the other one and it takes a few seconds to settle on one in particular.

Happy with his choice, he taps the screen with one tiny, wooden finger and the music begins slowly filtering through the earbuds.

Peter chuckles quietly and tucks one of the buds into his own ear. "Rolling Stones, huh? Good choice."

"I am Groot," the little guardian replies proudly, holding his earbud up to his head and listening carefully as a few soft guitar notes vibrate through them. It's a slower song, simple and lullaby-soft, and Groot leans against the side of Peter's neck as the music fills the space around them.

The song lilts and dips here and there, the lyrics describing something about wild horses and Groot doesn't really understand what it means but it's a nice song and he likes it. Peter hums along to the song quietly, moving back slowly to rest his back against the wall. He keeps one hand on his tiny companion to make sure Groot is secure during the move, only dropping it once he's sure the other Guardian isn't about to slip off his shoulder.

Peter settles back against the wall with Groot on his shoulder and lets his head fall back, eyes sliding closed. His hands are resting loose and limp in his lap and he sits still, humming along quietly as the song plays on.

For several seconds they both sit there in the quiet stillness of the room, Peter humming softly and Groot leaning against him. It's the first time it's been quiet and still like this for the past few days and the change of pace is nice. Between their ordeal with Ego and the whole mess with the Sovereign, a few days of relative peace and quiet are welcome.

Peter moves on from humming along to the song to quietly mumbling the words as they come, voice barely filtering above the guitar strums of the song. Groot looks up at the change in tone and frowns a little at what he sees. Peter is staring out the window again, expression mostly blank, and there's a very distinct sadness to his eyes. It's so intense it's nearly palpable.

Groot frowns unhappily, watching his friend with concern. The music wasn't helping the way he thought it would; if anything it seems to be making Peter sadder. Maybe it wasn't a good idea after all…

"Faith has been broken, tears must be cried," Peter mutters along with the music, eyes dull and unfocused as he gazes out the window. "Let's do some living after we die."

Groot frowns again, the ear bud dropping onto his lap uselessly. He feels like he made Peter sadder by bringing him the music, by picking the song, and he doesn't know how to fix it.

Standing slowly, carefully, he takes a few small steps across Peter's shoulder and slides down the front of his shirt to cling the fabric covering his chest. Peter startles a bit, reacting instantly and cupping his hand to keep the tiny tree creature from falling, but Groot is just hanging on to him.

It's the human's turn to frown and he looks down at the tiny distraught Guardian in concern. "Groot, what's wrong, buddy?"

"I am Groot," the little Guardian replies, burying his face in Peter's shirt. "I am Groot," he continues, gesturing toward the music player and then toward the window. He gives a sad little shake of his head. "I am Groot," he mumbles finally, miserably.

Peter looks stricken. "Buddy, you didn't mess anything up, I promise. You made it better actually." He cups his hand around the tiny Guardian's back and holds him close. "The song is a little sad, yeah, but it's nothing you did."

He smiles warmly down at Groot and runs his thumb over the top of his head gently. "I was actually getting pretty lonely in here before you came by. I'm glad to have the company." He squeezes Groot a little bit closer, keeping one hand spread across his back. "And you have really good taste in music so it's nice to be able to share it."

Groot sniffs a little and looks up. "I am Groot?"

"Yes, really," Peter assures him with another small smile. This one actually meets his eyes and it's a shadow of what his usual grin is but it's definitely a start. "Thanks for coming to sit with me, bud."

Groot nods once in understanding and buries his face against Peter's chest again while the human keeps one hand around him. He stretches out his tiny, twiggy arms as much as he can and holds on tightly, giving the biggest hug he can manage. He doesn't know what will make Peter feel better but if sitting with him helps, if listening to music and singing along to Terran songs and great big hugs from teeny tiny Guardians makes him smile again, then Groot is all too happy to help.

OOOOO

Peter is restless.

It's evident in the way he fidgets unconsciously, fingers drumming against his leg or the console or any other available flat surface. It's obvious in the way he speaks and moves, body language tense and rigid behind forced smiles and tired eyes. It's clear he hasn't slept in days even though he doesn't say it. He smiles and jokes and tries his best to act like he's alright but Peter is obviously struggling.

Mantis watches him quietly, her wide, dark eyes memorizing every crack and shudder in his drawn features. He's good at hiding it, a talent that seems to come second nature and has obviously been perfected and polished over a lifetime. He can't hide everything though and his emotions are strong enough that Mantis doesn't even have to touch him to feel all of it.

Maybe it was his close proximity to Ego and the fact that he held out longer than all the other children who arrived on the planet. Maybe it was the fact that Peter was the only one who was able to harness and use the Celestial's power and survive. Whatever the reason, Mantis can sense Peter's emotions stronger than anyone else she's ever been around and it's a little overwhelming.

Grief. Rage. Regret. Guilt. Pain. Everything hovers around him like radiation and flows through his body like blood. Peter's energy is like a solar flare and Mantis finds herself hesitating more than once for fear she might get burned.

She's been slowly but surely trying to find her place among this strange, ragtag group of ex-thieves and assassins. They call themselves the Guardians and she's become one of them by extension. She doesn't know what that means yet, not really, but they took her in as the only planet she'd ever known was destroyed and she's grateful to them.

She's very careful to use her abilities around her new friends, not because she's afraid of them but because all of them are so intense. She had grown used to Ego's moods and emotions over the years and while he was often just as overpowering, he was familiar. She didn't like it but she recognized his emotional responses and understood them almost down to a molecular level. It was different with the Guardians though, shockingly and overwhelmingly different and she has to be careful or she feels she might get lost in the middle of it all.

Groot is probably the easiest to work with. He's small and precocious but his emotions are still childlike and innocent. He's happy most of the time but will become righteously furious just as quickly. In spite of possessing a three-word vocabulary, he's capable of complex and compounded emotional reactions that belie his young temperament.

He warms up to her almost immediately, letting her scoop him into the palm of her hand and holding onto her fingers as she lifts him up. He's happy and content and smiling most of the time and Mantis feels like she understands him the best even if she doesn't know what he's saying just yet.

Drax is easy for her to read only because he doesn't seem to see the point of hiding his emotions. He's literal and matter-of-fact and if he appears angry, it's because he is. He's still grieving the loss of his wife and daughter, a deep, gnawing wound that's equal parts literal and physical. Mantis can feel it when she touches him, the fringes of a burning hollowness in his chest that will never be filled. His pain was enough to take her breath away the first time, an inadvertent sob shuddering through her. He mourns deeply and painfully and has for years; the pain has become a physical part of him by now.

In spite of his grief, however, he appears to find some semblance of peace and meaning with the Guardians. They bring him stability and a sense of purpose, emotions he hadn't experienced in the years since he lost his family. Mantis can feel it pulsing through him in waves, intense loyalty and allegiance for his newfound family. He would die for them, she knows without question. Drax lost his family once and he was never, ever going to lose another one as long as he could help it.

Rocket and Gamora are harder to read because neither of them will let her touch them. Rocket tends to snap at her and Gamora very calmly threatens to break her wrist so she keeps her distance. One of the very few times Rocket let her touch him was a few days after Ego was destroyed. All of them were affected in different ways and not a single one of them wanted to talk about it at the moment. She found him tinkering with something on the flight deck, a small, metallic ball that looked like a marble but was likely a bomb.

She sat down beside him and didn't speak, watching silently as he worked. The other Guardian shot her a look from the corner of his eye but said nothing, attention focused on the ball in his lap. Eventually he started speaking, rambling really, and explained what he was working on. It was a piece of a weapon he'd been working on for a few weeks and he was putting the finishing touches on it now. He pushed a piece of metal toward her at one point and when she reached out to take it her fingertips brushed against his paw.

Agony. Fury. Confusion. That's what she felt from Rocket. His quick wit and biting sarcasm were built upon layers and layers of hidden pain. She didn't know exactly where it came from, how much was recent and how much was old, but in the brief moment she touched him she felt metal plates and torn flesh, mechanical enhancements coated in dried and drying blood. She felt seared and burned and shredded, renewed and reborn in a firey sunburst of agony. She didn't touch Rocket again after that, not for a while at least.

Gamora was almost exactly the same but her pain was so much colder. When she gripped her wrist on Ego's planet she had felt all the same things she felt with Rocket but it was mind-numbingly muted. It was like sticking her hand in ice water and leaving it there until it burned with frost. Gamora's pain was cold and flat and grey as a frozen tundra and just as hopeless.

There was a very small flicker of warmth though, the hint of thaw beneath layers of ice. It was Peter even if she wouldn't admit it. There was something between them, something Gamora didn't want to admit or even entertain, but she couldn't hide it from the empath. It was a small feeling, flame-quick and new, and it was clear Gamora was not in any way prepared to deal with it. Those feelings were dead (or at least they should be) and there had been a time not too long ago when she would have been tortured for even thinking about it. It was there though, as much as she tried to deny it, and as long as Peter was around, it would continue to grow. And with Peter, things grew like a wildfire.

Everything about him burns hot and bright as a neutron star; from his conviction to his loyalty to his friends, the atmosphere seems to shimmer and ignite around him. Mantis had never experienced anything like that before, nothing as raw and powerful, and it was one of the more interesting, albeit terrifying, things about Peter Quill. He may hide his emotions in front of everyone else but Mantis can see through it as easily as glass.

It's worse when he lets his guard down, when he's tired or distracted or trying to sleep. That's when the bright, smoldering intensity of his emotions rackets up to supernova level. Because he can't hide it then, he can't tamp it down any longer, and it feels a lot like drowning when Mantis gets too close to Peter during moments like this.

She's experiencing it now and it takes several long, silent seconds for her to convince herself to move. Peter is asleep (or in some kind of similar state; she knows just by being around him that Peter hasn't actually slept in close to a week now) and he doesn't see her standing at his doorway. She's come up here three times now, each time backing away and convincing herself to leave. Peter's emotional state is too chaotic right now, too unpredictable, and she worries she won't be helping him but actually making it worse.

So each night she stops by his door and watches as he tosses and turns fitfully, muttering names and pleas and prayers as nightmares plague what little rest he gets. She'll take a step in, then two steps back, and then finally turn around and leave, sure she won't be able to help him if she's not even sure of herself. It feels cowardly and she chastises herself for it each time but there's a very fine line between help and hurt and she's not sure where she falls in all of this yet.

Tonight is different though; tonight she can't convince herself to walk away. She watches Peter sleep (if it could be called that) and she walks into the room silently, coming to a stop at the edge of his bed. He doesn't stir, doesn't even realize she's there, and Mantis slowly and quietly sinks down to her knees next to him.

She had spent much of her life helping Ego sleep and it seems a bit ironic that she's now doing the same thing for his son. She doesn't want to put Peter to sleep though, that seems too intrusive; she just wants to help ease some of the nightmares if only for a little while. One of Peter's arms is slung off the side of the bed, dangling limply over the edge of the mattress, and she reaches out, very slowly, and touches her fingertips to his arm.

The flood of emotions that hits her is like a tidal wave, hard and heavy and intense. It wells over her, deep and flash flood quick, and she's glad she's kneeling down otherwise she might have lost her balance. Sadness. Anger. Guilt. Everything wells to the surface and shoots through her like a bolt, piercing and white hot.

She holds on though, keeping her fingers resting lightly against his arm and taking away as much of that pain as she can. Because Peter is her friend and friends help each other and no one deserves to shoulder this amount of misery alone.

It takes a few minutes but she's able to untangle the twisting, complicated web of emotions that are swirling through Peter. She eases the anger and remorse, the guilt that's prominent and jagged like a stalactite. She concentrates and tries to loosen the thick knot of grief that sits in the center, unraveling the twisting and twining threads connected and encouraging them to fall away.

She catches flashes of blue and red, anger and irritation and guilt. Loss. More emotions bubble to the surface: longing, nostalgia, homesickness. She concentrates on it and pulls away the negative energy, leaving only the positive. It's not much, at least she doesn't think it is, but it's enough to ease some of Peter's pain and she'll take what she can get. The furrows in his brow loosen, the tight set of his jaw, and he seems to sleep peacefully for the first time in days.

It drains her, it always does, but she doesn't let go. Her fingers are still feather-light against his arm and she can feel the waves of hope and contentment as better dreams filter through his consciousness. There's a woman, Mantis can't see her but she can feel her presence, and she's beautiful. She's bright and warm and wholesome, like springtime and sunlight and wild flowers. She's everything good and safe and her memory crackles like a red-gold embers. She fills every inch of Peter's consciousness and Mantis is happy to let her.

There's so much of her in there, so much that's missing, and Mantis has the sinking, painful feeling that the woman, whoever she was, suffered cruelly at the hands of Ego. All of them did. She always knew what Ego was, what he was capable of, but she hates him now more than ever for taking away someone so bright and good and for hurting everyone in his wake. She can't bring her back, no one can, but she can let Peter have a little more time with her and that's something.

So she sits beside his bed and keeps her hand resting lightly on his arm while he continues to dream about a woman composed of sunshine and water lilies. She holds onto Peter and lets him sleep and clamps a hand over her mouth while she sobs for a woman she's never met.

OOOOO

Peter is reckless.

He's also stupid as hell and it's going to get them all killed. Normally Rocket doesn't have a problem with Peter's quirks and habits (humans are weird and he's long since given up trying to make sense of them) but he has a big problem when said quirks and habits land them on the wrong side of group of Catalon smugglers and the business end of a gun.

He's always known Quill had a mile-wide streak of batshit crazy in him (it's hard to be in their line of work without one) but the Terran's recklessness has shifted from regular, everyday crazy to dangerous, bordering on suicidal crazy. It's a recent change, one Rocket has picked up on ever since the fiasco with Ego, but it's one he can't ignore. Peter's rationality and sense of self-preservation have gone right out the window within the past few weeks and it's getting worse by the day.

He first noticed it about two weeks after the fallout with Ego. They had stopped at a trading post just outside of the Taurus system to resupply and take advantage of some much needed downtime. After everything that had happened, it seemed like a few days of shore leave was exactly what their ragtag team needed. Which probably explains how they ended up in a bar.

It ended up being just the two of them pairing off and wandering into a smoke-filled shot bar while the others branched out into the rest of the city. Drax was busy teaching(?) Mantis about the planet and Gamora had taken Groot somewhere which just left Rocket and Peter to spend their afternoon in a place that had more liquor bottles than patrons.

At some point Rocket wandered over to a card game taking place in the corner to try to gamble a few units out of the players, leaving Peter alone to finish his drink at the bar. He wasn't sure what happened between the time he left the bar and Peter ending up flat on his back but it had to have been something pretty serious for him to take a punch like that.

Rocket turned back just in time to see Peter hit the ground and the biggest, baddest bastard in the bar stand up to loom over him. The guy looked like he was going for another swing and Peter just grinned up at him with a busted lip and bloody teeth. Whatever Quill had said to him was grounds for a beating and the assailant was more than happy to comply.

Card game forgotten, Rocket scrambled back across the bar to the other Guardian's aid, gun already out and leveled. He had no problem shooting the man standing above his friend but it would likely land them both back in prison and that was a bit of a sticking point. Still, he couldn't let this guy take another swing at Peter and threats of violent intervention seemed to be the only way to prevent that.

Luckily it never came down to that. The bartender swooped in just as quickly and diffused the fight before it ever really got started, kicking both Peter and Rocket out of the bar rather unceremoniously. They landed on the street, dusty and disheveled, and Rocket kicked Peter in the ribs the second he was standing again.

His incredulous demand of "what the hell, Quill?!" was greeted with another bloody grin from Peter and a slight shrug. Quill assured him that he had it handled, he just didn't duck in time, and left it at that. No explanations behind what started the fight or why he decided to square up against the biggest threat in the bar, he just shrugged it off like nothing happened.

He pulled himself up, spit out a glob of blood, and nodded Rocket in the direction of the main part of the city, fight forgotten. Rocket still wanted answers but Quill wasn't giving them and didn't give any indication that it warranted further explanation. So he bared his teeth a little, re-holstered his gun, and followed the dumb human into the city.

That should have been it but it wasn't. Peter's recklessness continued to grow and Rocket found himself stuck right in the middle of it with him again less than a week later. This time they were outrunning a band of mercenaries who apparently had a rather large bounty to collect with the Guardians captured. Rocket and Peter had ended up in a smaller ship and led them on a chase away from the others, leaving the Milano out of harm's way.

Peter was a good enough pilot, Rocket always knew that, but that day he flew like the mercs were already on the ship. He weaved and flipped and spun the ship in every direction, taking far too many risks for not nearly enough payoff. He squeezed their ship between the gravitational machinery of an asteroid belt, slipping between massive chunks of celestial rock with barely a millimeter to spare in any direction. He pulled maneuvers that no one should ever even attempt, let alone accomplish, and it destroyed several of the ships still in pursuit. Peter flew like he had a death wish and Rocket briefly wondered if he might fulfill that wish before the end of the day.

The asteroid belt took out the majority of the ships and by the time they made it through there were only two left. It would have been an easy getaway from there, a simple jump across the quadrant and back to the Milano. But no, Peter wasn't content with that. He wanted to keep going, test the limits and prove some kind of point. Rocket's claws left shreds in the arms of the flight chair he was sitting in.

The final two ships lined up in front of them, blocking their escape and leveling their weapons on the Guardian's small craft. They demanded surrender in exchange for their lives and threatened to destroy them if they didn't comply. Peter just grinned, a dark, sneering smirk that really had no business appearing on his face. Instead of complying, he decided to ram them.

Rocket barely had time to grasp what was happened before the ship was shooting forward directly toward the two remaining mercenaries. They refused to budge and Peter refused to stop. It was a game of chicken, one someone was going to lose horribly, and it appeared that no one was willing to back down.

Rocket scrambled out of his seat to snatch the controls away from Peter because obviously Quill had lost his God forsaken mind and was planning to kamikaze his way through the ships. Peter, on the other hand, snapped that he knew what he was doing and to knock it off. There was a glint in his eye then, something wild and just a little unhinged, and Rocket had the sinking feeling that had he not been sitting there with him, Peter probably would have crashed into the merc's ships headon just to see what happened.

As it was though, he did have a plan (stupid and crazy though it was). At the very last second, he tipped the wings of their ship, tilting them just enough to rip out the side panels of the mercenaries' ships as they pushed through them. The space on either side of them exploded in a blaze of fire and twisted metal and the remaining two merc ships disintegrated in a ball of flames.

They left the flaming wreckage of the mercenaries' ships to smolder and burn on the outside of the asteroid belt and made their way back toward the Milano. In the frenzied aftermath, Peter just smirked at Rocket and said, "see, I had a plan."

Rocket was hyper aware of Peter's newfound recklessness after that incident and it bothered him more than he liked to admit. Of all of them, Peter always seemed to be the most stable and rational but it was like he'd flipped a switch ever since his encounter with Ego. He was careless and wild, moreso now than he's ever been before, and Rocket isn't too sure he's not trying to get himself killed with all the crazy stunts he's pulled recently. Ayesha had said that she detected a peculiar kind of recklessness in Peter and now it was shining through him like a damn beacon.

Rocket brings up his concerns to the others but it's difficult to explain since they hadn't been there for the first two incidents. All of them had their own brand of daredevil abandon and on the outside it seemed like Peter's wasn't any different from his usual kind of brash reactions. It wasn't that they didn't care but he just couldn't explain it in a way that would convince them that Peter's recklessness had seemingly shifted from "kind of crazy" to "kind of suicidal" within the past few weeks.

He couldn't bring it up to Peter either because every time he tried to breach the subject, Quill would just give him an easy grin and tell him everything was fine and not to worry. There's something vaguely detached and impersonal about the way he speaks when the subject is brought up; it's almost like he's speaking outside of himself, dissociated and aloof about something so serious. The way things have been going recently, Peter treats the issue of his own mortality like it's an inconvenience more than anything.

Rocket knew it was a response to the fallout with Ego and he knew that it would likely get worse before it got better. He also knew that if Quill didn't get a handle on it pretty quick, he was probably going to get himself or someone else killed before it was all over with.

It finally comes to a head three days later when they find themselves facing a very hostile band of Catalon smugglers. The job was nothing new and it was something they had done dozens of times before: get in, grab, get out. It should have taken two of them and twenty minutes to accomplish and it probably would have if Peter hadn't given away their position. Like literally given it away. He practically broadcasted that they were coming and welcomed the challenge with open arms when it arrived.

So while Rocket is busy gathering the holodiscs they were hired to retrieve, Peter is taking on at least a dozen armed smugglers by himself. And he's enjoying it. If Rocket wasn't so busy trying not to get shot during the whole thing he might have wondered what the hell got scrambled in Quill's head. As it was though, he didn't really have time to think about it (concentrating on not getting shot and all) and focused instead on grabbing as many of the holodiscs as he could before Peter got overwhelmed by the endless stream of Catalons coming after them.

He loads what they need and scrambles out to help Quill, finding him tucked behind the crumbling remains of a wall. "Was this part of the plan, idiot?" he snarls at the human as he tucks himself behind the wall as well.

"It was part of my plan, yeah," Peter tells him with a smirk, pulling something out of his pocket and balancing it in his hand for a second. It's a grenade, one of the ones Rocket had been working on for the past few days, and he's waiting for the right moment to throw it. He chances a glance over his shoulder at the remaining Catalons and looks back at the grenade, bouncing it in the palm of his hand carefully.

Rocket doesn't feel like he needs to tell Peter what a terrible idea this is before Quill has thrown the grenade over his shoulder at the clump of Catalons behind them. The hallway explodes behind them, taking out the smugglers and showering the two Guardians with dust and rubble.

All at once it's quiet again, the eerie kind of silence that follows a large explosion filling the hallway. Peter shifts a little to look over his shoulder again at the ruins of the hallway and offers a small smirk. "Well, that was easy."

And for some reason that's what does it. Not the countless other examples of raving recklessness on Peter's behalf or the fact that he's just made their job ten times harder than it had to be. No, it was that statement, that simple, ludicrous statement about how easy it was to take out a whole squadron of heavily armed smugglers.

Rocket growls in a cluttered mixture of frustration and annoyance and slams the butt of his gun into Peter's hip. Hard. "What the hell are you tryin' to pull, Quill?!" he snarls, teeth bared and ears flattening slightly in anger. "Is this some kinda game to you now?"

Peter hisses at the blow and has the audacity to look confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talkin' about, you moron!" Rocket growls back, gesturing toward the ruins of the hallway behind them. "You've been toeing the line between sanity and batshit crazy for weeks now and I'm sick of it! Are you tryin' to get yourself killed out here? Is that what this is?"

"What?" Peter asks again, pushing himself up off the wall and staring at Rocket like he's grown a second head. "That's not what-"

"Don't bullshit me, Quill!" the other Guardian snaps angrily because he's had it with Peter acting like everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. And yeah, maybe, just maybe, he's a little bit angry at himself too for not stepping up to help sooner but dammit, he's stepping up now and this behavior isn't going to fly any longer.

"I'm not nearly as stupid as you think I am so cut the confusion act and spit it out!" Rocket snarls furiously. "You've been actin' like a maniac lately and I'm gettin' real tired of gettin' dragged along for the ride."

He swats the human's leg with his gun again, not enough to injure him but enough to hurt and get his point across. "You don't wanna talk about what's botherin' you? Fine. You wanna get yourself killed out here? Fine. But do it somewhere else," he growls, sharp teeth bared as he speaks. "I've seen enough friends die recently and I sure as hell ain't lookin' to see you do it too. So you wanna go on a suicide mission and go out in a blaze of glory? That's on you, pal; don't plan on draggin' me or anyone else down with you."

For a very brief, fleeting second Peter looks like he wants to argue. Instead, he sighs heavily and slumps back against the crumbling wall, head bouncing against the bricks. "Damn...you're right," he mutters after a second, a dull, exhausted expression coloring his face. That in itself was a minor victory because getting Peter to admit Rocket was right about anything was usually a multi-day event.

"You're right," he says again, shaking his head and passing a hand through his dusty hair. "I don't know what's been going on with me lately. Ever since Ego," he stops, the name catching in his throat like it's covered in barbs. He sighs and starts again.

"Ever since he kebabed me with his freaky energy spear I've been getting these...impulses. I don't know what it is, if it's something he rubbed off on me or what, but it's like every part of me wants a confrontation. I've been on edge and it feels like I've wanted to do nothing but fight for weeks now."

He sighs again and sags against the wall a bit more, casting a glance in Rocket's direction. "I don't know, man; I don't know what's going on with me. I'm sorry you keep getting dragged into it though."

Rocket rolls his eyes and knocks Peter in the knee with the butt of his gun. "Listen, Quill, I don't know what's goin' on with you either but I know gettin' yourself killed won't help anything. Ego jacked you up pretty good, we all saw that, but you're better than him and you know it. So whatever this is," he says, gesturing toward Peter in a wide circle so it includes all of him, both mental and physical. "Whatever he rubbed off on you? Beat it. You're stronger than that and ain't no one in the galaxy gonna convince me any different. It might be his influence, Quill, but it ain't his body. You control that, not him. Got it?"

Peter offers a faint smirk in return. "Got it."

"Good," Rocket says just before he hits Peter in the leg again with his gun. The human will be riddled with bruises by the end of it but maybe it'll get the point across. "And stop actin' like you gotta keep all this to yourself, you big idiot," he grumbles, this time the name coming out more as a term of gruff endearment rather than an insult. "We're the freakin' Guardians of the Galaxy and part of that job includes takin' care of each other. So quit actin' like you gotta carry this on your own and start talkin' to us. If you got a problem then we all got a problem and we'll all figure out how to deal with it. As a team. So knock it off."

This time the smile is a bit more genuine and Peter nods in agreement. "Deal."

"Alright," Rocket mutters, slinging his gun up on his shoulder and tucking the holodiscs under his other arm. "Now let's get outta here. This hallway smells like burnt hair."

Peter just smirks and stands. "Lead the way."

OOOOO

Peter is angry.

It comes in a sudden, violent burst and it's something that's been building for a long time. Maybe not to this level, not at the beginning, but it's out now and there's no way to stop it once it's started. The raw power behind his rage is as impressive as it is terrifying and it's impressively terrifying that it's coming from Peter.

Drax is no stranger to losing control; he's lost much of the past several years to a haze of barely controlled rage and vengeance. After he lost his family, after he watched his wife and daughter die at the hands of Ronan, he lost all sense of reason and sense. All he wanted was revenge and justice for his family, to make things right where he faltered before.

He let rage and hatred and fury consume him until there was almost nothing left, hardly any trace of the man he had been before. It would have been easy in the beginning, to let go of what little ounce of control he still had left in him and allow himself to be swallowed entirely by his desperate rage. But he didn't. He doesn't know why but he never let go completely, he never lost that last little bit of control.

He told himself it was because he was waiting for Ronan, that he would maintain that control until he could kill Ronan with his bare hands like he had his family. Then Ronan was gone and he told himself he was waiting for Thanos, that Thanos was the one he needed to lose control over. Thanos was the one behind all of this, behind Ronan and the loss of his planet and the deaths of his wife and daugher. Thanos was going to pay and Drax told himself he would control himself until he did.

There are other factors that play into his decision now though, new and unexpected ones. He never expected to find himself part of a team during his search for Ronan nor did he expect for find himself working together with them. He certainly didn't expect for this new and unexpected team to become his friends and the closest thing to a family he's had in so many long years.

He didn't expect to work with them, care for them, protect them and he definitely didn't expect them to return the gesture. It was a strange thing, to be sure, their little ragtag group turned family, but it's something he values above everything else now and it's one more reason he vows to keep himself under control.

Which is why he's so impressed/terrified/awestruck when he see Peter lose complete control in the middle of a mission. It's a mixture of all of these things because Peter doesn't lose control like this, not to this extent. Of all of them Peter is probably the most level-headed; sure he's brash and reckless sometimes but he's usually the one to think things through before jumping straight into the fray, something the rest of their group is rather guilty of. Still, he tends to be marginally more rational and stable when it comes to tense situations and is usually the one attempting to diffuse the situation rather than escalate it.

Not so this time. This time, he appears more than happy to not only escalate the situation but feed the fire with combustible fuel. There's no suggestion of peace or compromise or negotiation; when Peter loses control he wants blood.

As stunning as it is to see, Drax can't exactly say that he's surprised when it finally happens. There's been something lurking just beneath the surface of Peter Quill for weeks now, ever since their battle with Ego. They've all noticed it but none of them have a name for it and Peter is either completely unaware or willfully ignorant of its existence. He tells them he's okay, insists that there's nothing to worry about, and it might have been believable if the air around him didn't occasionally crackle with electricity.

Drax experienced a very brief brush with whatever was simmering beneath the surface one afternoon during a sparring session. He had suggested it to Peter believing it might be the perfect remedy for some of the tension and stress he had been under since their encounter with Ego. Drax didn't know much about human customs but he knew that a good, violent sparring session usually helped when he was preoccupied with something.

Peter was hesitant at first, insisting that he was fine and this was unnecessary but Drax wasn't having it. Realizing the futility of his protests, Peter finally relented with a sigh and allowed the larger Guardian to lead him down to one of the lower levels of the ship that had been converted into a makeshift work/training room. It had been used as storage for years but it now it usually served as Rocket's weapons lab and armory.

It had taken a few minutes to get Peter involved and active in the exercise but once he started it came more smoothly. Their fight gradually started to become more intense after a little while though and Peter's blows became harder and more intentional. Drax had expected as much and kept going. Peter was angry and although he did a decent enough job hiding it most of the time, when he was fighting that anger came spilling out into his movements.

He struck hard and fast, each blow intentional and aimed at a vital point on his opponent's body. His expression changed, no longer easy-going and mild but driven and intense. There was a darkness in his eyes, a hardness that had never been there before, and it was disturbing to see it now.

More troubling was the dull white aura that began to radiate around Peter the longer their fight went on. It was small at first, a haze that resembled a close fog or mist that hovered right above his skin. It grew brighter with every punch though, more noticeable and more powerful. Peter didn't see it but it clung to his every movement.

It was only a well-timed and well-placed blow that snapped him out of it. Drax didn't mean to hit him, not really, but in attempting to dodge and deflect one of Peter's attacks, he accidentally smacked him in the chest and caused him to stagger back a step or two. That seemed to break him out of whatever was going on and he blinked, stunned and confused for a moment, before coming back to his senses.

Drax saw it that day, just a glimpse of something under the surface, but he had no idea what he saw. New power, a hidden advantage, he wasn't sure. He questioned Peter about it after but even he wasn't sure what it was. What happened during their sparring session was concerning but it was just a matchstick compared to the firestorm that happened a few days later.

Their mission had been easy enough, a simple product trade in exchange for information. But something was off almost immediately because Peter seemed to recognize a shifty-looking group of smugglers that smirked and sidled up the second their other deal was finished. Judging by the looks of them and the expression on Peter's face, there was a lot of bad blood between them.

Drax stood close, ready to assist his friend if need be, but Peter was focused on the leader of the group, a scar-riddled, skinny man with sharp, darting eyes. The hard set of Peter's jaw proved that this reunion was not a welcome one. From the few quiet snippets of conversation Drax heard between them, he gathered that this man and the group behind him had been Ravagers at one time but were stripped of their titles and disgraced. If the barely concealed rage behind Peter's eyes is anything to go on, they were probably on the same team at some point.

It's amicable enough for several tense minutes but then the scarred man says something with a cold, twisted smirk that's like pulling a pin on a grenade. Drax doesn't hear the whole thing but he makes out the name "Yondu" and that's all it takes for Peter to lose control.

It happens fast, faster than Drax can react, and suddenly the scarred man is on the ground and Peter is on top of him. The other men surge forward, weapons draw and leveled at Peter, and Drax takes a step forward to defend him but it proves unnecessary. There's a whipcrack of blinding white energy that snakes out and plows through the charging men like bowling pins. Most of them tumble and a few of them are knocked several feet away and they all look up in stunned horror.

The energy is centered around Peter, coiled and writhing on the ground around him like a white-hot serpent. It's moving with him but without him at the same time, controlled by its human host but completely unpredictable. It's brilliant and terrifying and it looks exactly like the streams of energy Ego used when they were on his planet.

Drax stands in muddled silence for a second or two, not quite comprehending what he's seeing. "Quill…" he hears himself mutter, completely transfixed by the tendrils of pure energy radiating off of Peter's body.

The other Guardian doesn't hear him, his attention focused on the man he has pinned to the ground. The smirk and the cocky facade have faded and the scarred man looks absolutely terrified of the being that's on top of him. Being because Peter is not entirely human in that moment, not even by a fraction. He's something else and he's deadly.

The air around them crackles like there are thousands upon thousands of volts of electricity coursing through every molecule within a two mile radius. The tendrils of energy keep the other men from interfering (not that they would, the whole thing is ridiculously terrifying) and Drax has to shield his eyes as the air literally sparks around him.

A sharp weapon appears in Peter's hand, not physical but not entirely intangible either. It's composed of the same bright-white energy as everything else and all at once Drax recognizes the weapon as the arrow Yondu had used. It materialized in Peter's hand and he gripped it like a dagger, knuckles white and bloodless as his hand clenched around the shaft. He muttered something to the scarred man on the ground and raised the arrow high, ready to bring it down for a killing blow.

Drax reacts without thinking, clearing the space between him and Peter in less than a second. He tackles the other Guardian off of his quarry and wraps his arms around Peter, effectively pinning the smaller man's arms to his sides. Seeing this as his opportunity to escape, the scarred man jumps to his feet and takes off in the opposite direction, the rest of his group following closely behind. Peter sees this and growls and struggles violently against Drax, desperate to finish what he started.

"Quill, that's enough," Drax tells him gruffly, tightening his grip even more as the other man continues to struggle. Peter is strong, stronger than he gives him credit for, and he's determined to break free. Drax is equally determined not to let that happen.

Keeping Peter restrained in his arms, he sits suddenly, dragging them both to the ground in a heap. Peter is half-sprawled across his legs by this point but Drax doesn't let him go; if anything he holds on tighter. "Quill, stop," he says again, his voice a little softer this time. "This is not you, my friend."

Slowly, very slowly, the struggling begins to lessen and Peter stops trying to break his way free. He sits rigid in Drax's arms, shoulders heaving and entire body shaking with barely controlled rage. "I was going to kill him…" Peter admits quietly and the confession sounds equal parts horrified and resolved.

Drax nods once in understanding. "I know," he says simply, arms still locked tightly around Peter's shaking body. "But I could not let you do that. You are not a killer, Quill. Not like this."

Peter shakes his head, suddenly exhausted. He mutters something under his breath to no one in particular, something that sounds a lot like, "what the hell is happening to me…?" The arrow is still in his hand, solid and real like he'd had it all along.

Drax doesn't have an answer for him unfortunately. He's not sure what's happening to his friend either but he knows they'll find a way to help him anyway they can. He helps Peter up slowly, keeping one hand on him at all times, and walks him back to the ship.

OOOOO

Peter is tired.

He's sitting slumped and still on his bunk, staring at his hands silently like he's waiting for something to happen. There's an air of overwhelming fatigue surrounding him, heavy and oppressive. Gamora can practically feel it in the air.

She hesitates outside of his door for about a minute, arms crossed and shoulder pressed against the wall. Drax told her what happened when they got back to the ship, his words short and clipped and tone grim. She hadn't been there to see it but apparently Peter's reaction had been more than a little disturbing to tattooed Guardian. Something had happened to Peter today, something none of them had anticipated, and now they have to figure out how to deal with it.

Gamora hesitates for a second or so more before finally stepping into the room, making her presence known with a soft, "hey."

Peter looks up and he looks terrible. His eyes are dull and there are dark circles beneath them that stand out in shockingly contrast to his pale skin. He's slightly hunched, shoulders rounded and body curled just slightly like the very effort of sitting up straight is too much for him to manage at the moment. He looks more tired than she's ever seen him.

Gamora walks over and comes to a stop by the bed, sinking down slowly onto the mattress beside Peter. Had it been any other night, he might have flashed her a grin and quipped something to the effect of finally getting her in his bed but tonight is not that night. Tonight Peter just looks exhausted.

There's an arrow clutched in Peter's left hand, the same one Drax had told her he'd materialized during their mission. It was completely solid in his grip, an exact replica of the one Yondu had used. She doesn't know how to bring it up at the moment so she doesn't.

"You okay?" she asks instead, tilting her head just slightly as she speaks. She's watching his face carefully, analyzing his expression and everything it might hold. Peter is usually so easy for her to read but right now it's like staring at a brick wall.

He smiles faintly, the expression numb and water-color thin. It looks almost like a grimace. "I don't know," he tells her honestly and for some reason that admission makes him look more worn. Peter usually just shrug things off with an easy grin or a dismissive wave of his hand, the assurance that everything is fine, don't worry. The lack of that casual dismissal now makes Gamora frown.

She reaches out slowly, carefully, and lays her hand on his arm. She's not exactly sure why she's being so cautious at the moment but something about the lost, almost shell-shocked look in Peter's eyes has her on edge. Still, this is Peter and he's her friend and she wants to help him even if she's not sure how.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she asks quietly, keeping her voice neutral. She's not judgemental or critical, just curious.

Peter is silent for a second, contemplating his words carefully. Finally, he sighs heavily and it's a full-body movement. "I lost control," he says finally, the words quiet and tinged with shame and regret. "One minute I was fine and the next I just...snapped."

He passes a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes in a weary sort of way that indicates he'd probably like to be sleeping right now but can't. He still hasn't let go of the arrow. "I still have moments when I can feel Ego's power. It's not as strong or as frequent as it was right after he was destroyed but it's like some of his power was left in me."

Peter looks down at his hands again, opening and closing the one that isn't holding the arrow experimentally. "Most of the time nothing happens; I'll feel a jolt in my hands or there's like this loud ringing sound in my ears but that's it. I'm not as powerful as Ego was, I can't create things or change reality."

He smiles ruefully down at the arrow in his hand. "Believe me, I've been trying. If I thought for one second I could use it to change what had happened I would."

Gamora nods slowly, her thumb tracing a small circle into Peter's arm. She knows he still blames himself for Yondu's death and that had it been up to him, he would have switched places with him in a second. Peter could accept someone fighting alongside him but he could not accept someone getting hurt or dying on his behalf. She has no doubt that he'd try the same thing if it had been one of them in the Ravager's place.

"Right after Ego was destroyed, when I could still feel the remnants of his power in me, I tried to use it to bring Yondu back. I thought if I had even an ounce of Ego's power left, maybe I could harness it and use it to set things right. I thought that would be the only good thing to come of it."

He sighs like the admission is some dark, terrible secret. Granted, it's the first time she's heard anything about it but Gamora is not exactly surprised. "So locked onto what I could still feel and gathered it and concentrated and focused on that one, single goal. I thought it would work, I mean the power I still had leftover felt exactly as strong as it had on Ego's planet so I thought for sure it would work.

"But it was like the stronger it got, the more it pulled away from me. Everytime I tried to pull it back, it tugged harder in the opposite direction. Whatever power I still had left from Ego, it felt like it wanted to disappear along with the rest of his planet. I lost control of it," Peter says finally, sighing again and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Just when I thought it would be strong enough to work, it felt like it was snatched away from me and disappeared somewhere in the depths of the universe." The smile turns bitter and angry. "In spite of what Ego may have told me, I'm not a god. Not that I wanted to be but if it could change things…" he sighs again and fades off.

"I thought his power was gone after that, that maybe that final burst was all that remained." He looks down at the arrow in his hand again. "Until today."

Gamora follows his gaze, her eyes landing on the arrow. Peter holds it like he's not sure if he wants to keep it or sling it at a wall. "What happened today?" she asks again quietly.

Peter stares at it silently for a second. "The man's name was Acker. He was a Ravager with us until I was about seventeen. I don't remember all the details but apparently he and some of his buddies were planning a mutiny and Kraglin caught wind of it. I don't know why Yondu didn't kill them on the spot but he did make sure to dump them on the nearest ice planet and leave them there to freeze. They survived somehow and Acker has his own crew of thieves and mercenaries now but he still holds a grudge. He saw me when we were planetside and decided to bring up all the bad blood he still harbored toward me and all the other Ravagers. I didn't care, he wasn't my problem to deal with, but then he brought up Yondu and I just...lost it."

He looks down at the arrow again, weighing it lightly in his hand. "I don't know how the arrow materialized or what I did to make it appear. All I could think about was how Yondu should have killed this guy when he got the chance and now Acker was here, gloating about his death, and I was going to kill him myself." He shakes his head slowly and lets the arrow fall to the floor. "If Drax hadn't stopped me I would have plunged that arrow into Acker's throat."

Gamora is silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. Finally, she nods and squeezes Peter's arm gently. "I don't blame you; I probably would have too." She looks at him carefully, studying his face. "How do you feel now? Do you still feel any of Ego's power?"

Peter thinks for a second, his tired eyes a little distant. He shakes his head once. "No, I don't feel it anymore. It feels like that well has finally run dry." He offers a weak, thin smile. "I don't really feel anything right now to be honest."

Gamora frowns a little at the admission. This isn't like Peter and she doesn't like it. "What can I do?" she asks because she really doesn't know. She wants to help, they all do, but none of them really know how.

Peter shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know," he tells her quietly with a small shake of his head. "I feel like I just can't get away from Ego no matter how hard I try. He took so much from me and it feels like he's still affecting me in all these weird, messed up little ways. He's dead and he's still messing with my life and I'm just tired."

Gamora nods in understanding; she knew all too well how exhausting it could be to feel the constant, looming presence of someone in every aspect of her life. For her it was Thanos, for Peter it was Ego. And unfortunately, there was no easy way to get rid of them; it was something that wouldn't go away on it's own and might linger for a long time. But it helps to feel like you're not alone in all of it, like the burden isn't so heavy. She can help him with that just like he helped her and maybe, just maybe, that will ease some of the pain.

"We'll figure out how to get through this," she begins softly, meeting his eyes with quiet resolve. "You don't have to do this alone, Peter. Like Drax said, we're family and we'll get through this together. For tonight, though, I think you should get some rest."

Peter doesn't appear convinced by this proposition. "I don't think I can," he responds softly, almost too quiet for her to hear.

"Then we'll just lay here for a while," Gamora tells him with a small, comforting smile. "You don't have to go to sleep if you don't want to; I'll stay here with you."

"You will?" Peter asks and the hopefulness in his voice makes something in her chest clench.

"I will," she replies with a nod. "For as long as you want me to."

Some of the tension and stress leaves his face at the offer and it takes nothing at all for Gamora to guide them both down onto the mattress after that. She wraps her arms around Peter and she feels him slip his arms around her waist. It's a close, intimate position but Peter needs it and maybe she does too. One of her hands comes up and she glides her fingers through his hair in slow, drawn out sweeps. She doesn't expect him to cry or break down or fall apart but she's there in case he does.

Ego had taken a lot from Peter, more than he had any right to, but he had taken a lot from the other Guardians too. He had taken their carefree, easy-going friend and turned him into a tense and weary ghost of his former self. Peter's smiles were more rigid, his quips forced and humorless, and he was nothing at all like the Peter they knew. He'd come back to his old self eventually, they all knew that, but for right now that Peter was gone and the one they had was barely more than a shadow.

Ego had taken the Peter she knew away and she's never hated anyone more than she does right now. The Peter she knew made movie references and silly jokes and came up with ridiculous dance moves in the middle of assignments. She missed the Peter who helped Rocket design his weapons and taught baby Groot how to dance and gave exasperated yet amused explanations to Drax about the difference between a simile and a metaphor. She missed the Peter who was goofily charming when he wanted to be, who asked her to dance when they were alone and got drunk and serenaded her with some silly song called "Brown-Eyed Girl" that he swears up and down was written by one of the greatest musicians Earth had ever seen. She misses her old Peter and she hates Ego for taking him away from her.

She has faith in him though, she always has, and she knows he'll find his way back eventually. So for now she holds him and holds on and waits for him to come back. She'll hold on as long as she needs to.

Thanks so much for reading guys! :D