Author's Note: Wow. Loved Volume 2! I was so happy and left the theatre with a smile. And of course, I got inspired to write more fanfics. So, expect a lot of stories coming your way soon. This is my first five times plus one story but I really enjoy the format. I hope you all will enjoy too! There will be spoilers for Volume 2 in here but I will be sure to warn for it. Please enjoy!

"She had a place in his life

He never made her think twice."

—The Doobie Brothers, "What A Fool Believes"

One

Gamora may be a savior of the galaxy but that doesn't magically erase the years and years of torment and havoc she wreaked as a daughter of Thanos. She singlehandedly ruined the lives of countless innocents, slaughtered those who Thanos deemed an enemy indiscriminately and just generally was what Peter called a "psycho-murdering machine".

But that's in her past. She's not like that anymore. She met Peter and became a part of something—something bigger than herself, something infinitely more precious—and she can't even recognize who she was in the past. She has a heart again and cares for people once more.

Of course, that doesn't erase the blood on her hands or the broken hearts she left behind.

And that really is how she got into this situation—bleeding out from a stab wound, alone on an uninhabited planet, left to die slowly and painfully. All it took was someone from her past tracking her down and getting the upper hand. Just one second for her guard to fall and the next thing she knows, she's waking up alone and in pain.

And, of course, conveniently cut off from all her tracking and communication gear. The team has no idea where she is, that is if they've even managed to notice that she's gone. They'd spilt up to do their shopping and then rendezvous back at the ship by sunset, but who knows how much time has actually passed. There are three moons in the sky now and countless stars so she's definitely been taken across the galaxy somewhere.

"Focus." She exhales shakily, imagining her breath as a hand that can pull her pain away from her body, an old trick she picked up from Nebula before she became all, well, mechanical. As she takes a few more breaths, some of the burning sensation in her side leaves and even though there is way too much blood coming from the wound—all this moving around isn't helping her—she feels like she can keep going.

You're a monster! You don't deserve to be celebrated! You deserve to die!

She winces as the voice filters in. She can't recall the face of her captor. Whoever they were must've drugged her because her mind feels fuzzy and any images she tries to recall are blurred.

You're a monster!

"No." She growls, shaking her head, clearing the voice from her mind.

She is Gamora, a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy. She isn't an assassin for Thanos nor is she a cold-blooded killer. She is more than what others may think of her. Her past doesn't define her.

Not anymore.

She presses her hand to her wound and flinches as the pain flares for a brief moment. Still, she keeps walking, her boots crunching on the plants that seem to cover every inch of this planet. Her eyes are locked on the sky, on the sparking stars and distant moons. Somewhere, out there, in the galaxy is her team.

Her family, really.

Funny, how dysfunctional they all are. Each one of them has their flaws, their unique quirks, but they all function so well together. Together, they're stronger than they could ever be apart.

And she will not die here, not now, not alone, not without her team. There's too much she has to do, too many words she's left unsaid. She still has to tell Peter that she . . .

Her chest tightens. She doesn't know exactly how she feels about Peter. Sometimes, he infuriates her. He's incredibly stupid. He does things that defy her comprehension. She'll open her mouth to yell at him and then he'll just smile that goofy grin of his and her rage will dissipate. Sometimes, she finds herself smiling for hours on end just because of something funny he's said. With Peter, she feels at ease, like she can finally be herself, not just a coldhearted machine, like Thanos molded her to be.

With Peter by her side, Gamora knows she can be anything she wants.

But right now, Peter isn't here and the blood loss is starting to get to her. Shock, she realizes dimly, as her body begins to shake and her legs feel like they're moving through wax. She's going to collapse soon and though she knows she needs to keep going, her body is failing her.

Tripping over the root of a tree is what does her in. She topples, less than gracefully, towards the ground and the air leaves her lungs with a whoosh. She thinks she blacks out for a few moments because by the time she comes to, the moons have moved across the sky.

She's going to die here.

"Gamora!" The voice is faint, but it's one that she would recognize anywhere.

"Peter?" Her lips are chapped, her voice hoarse, but she somehow finds the strength to push herself up and stand once more. Gamora may be a lot of things, but damsel in distress was never one of them.

"Gamora! Are you here?"

"Peter!" She shouts, though it causes her to dissolve into a coughing fit. Her vision blurs, her legs are as heavy as lead, but she keeps walking towards the voice. Maybe her mind is playing tricks on her, but she has to believe it is he. She trusts her team, knows that they're crazy enough to be able to find her sans tracking equipment.

"Gamora!"

"I'm here!" She's pushing her body now, running somehow but it's worth the fiery pain that surges through her veins because finally, she sees him.

Peter taps a button and his facemask quickly dissipates. Upon seeing her, his eyes twinkle and his face lights up, a smile gracing his lips. Her heart flutters because when he looks at her like this, she feels like she's the only girl that matters to him in the universe.

And of course, that's when her knees decide to buckle.

"Hey, easy," Peter has somehow crossed the distance between them and he catches her, gently easing her back to the ground, "Gamora, what the hell happened to you? One second you were in the market and the next you were—holy shit!" Judging by the way his hand has been stained crimson, he's found her stab wound.

"It's not that bad." She winces as he leans her against a large rock.

"That's freaking stab wound!" Peter shouts as he quickly dumps out his pack, digging through it for medical supplies. Then, with a murderous glare, he questions, "Who did this?"

That part is too fuzzy for her and honestly, she's starting to feel a bit lightheaded so she just manages to say, "M'fine, Peter." Her words are slurring and her eyelids keep drooping as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

"Gamora, hey, hey, stay with me," Peter soothes, a tight smile tugging at his lips. He huffs out a wet laugh and she swears that she sees tears sparkling in his eyes but it could just be the moonlight. He places a clammy hand on her cheek and she leans into it, "Stay with me, all right? You're going to be fine."

But even she knows that with the amount of blood she's lost coupled with the amount of injuries she's sustained make her chances low, to say the least. She shivers, her body shaking and her eyes fall shut.

When she comes to, she's in Peter's arms. He's carrying her and in the distance she can see their ship—their home—carefully descending down to the surface.

"You with me?" Peter glances down at her, worry etched in his expression. His grip on her is tight—he's scared, but of what?—and she wants nothing more than to ease his pain, to tell him that everything will be okay, even if she does perish, he has a team to support him and—

Peter jerks to a sudden stop.

"Don't talk like that." He orders sharply, but it comes out as a whisper. He plasters a fake grin on his lips, "You're going to be fine, Gamora. Just keep those eyes of yours open, okay?"

She wants to obey, but fatigue has settled into every part of her body and Peter's chest is so very warm. With him, she's safe. She can rest.

"Gamora, keep those eyes open," Peter pleads softly, "You can't sleep yet. Not now."

She should tell him about how she feels. She should thank him for everything he's done for her. If she can just get her mouth to work or form a coherent thought, then she can tell him.

She has to tell him.

"Shh, it's okay, Gamora." The ship is in view now and she can hear the doors opening and Drax and Rocket's voices drifting towards her. Fatigue eats away at her. Her body feels like lead and she wants nothing more than to drift away, but she has to tell Peter how she feels before it's too late.

"Tell me later, Gamora," Peter whispers in her ear, "You'll be okay. You have to be okay."

Then, Drax and Rocket are there and she's lying on metal table.

"This is going to hurt." Rocket informs her with a grimace as he pulls out a syringe.

Then, there is nothing but pain.

"You scared us half to death." Peter tells her when she wakes up in the Nova Corps infirmary.

Her body is sore and she's exhausted, but she's alive. With the best medical technology in the galaxy, her body shows no trace of the stab wound. In fact, if she wanted, she could leave the infirmary and return back to the ship. It's the fatigue that keeps her in bed, though she's not exactly complaining about it.

"None of us were dying," Drax points out, "Partially or otherwise."

"Metaphor." Rocket retorts.

"Ah." Drax nods, but it's clear that he doesn't quite understand it.

"I am Groot." Groot whispers as he presses a feathery kiss to her cheek and she grins.

"We're all glad that you're okay." Rocket informs her, unusually somber. Then, glancing around the room, he coughs somewhat conspicuously. "Gee, Groot, it's late. C'mon, let's head back to the ship." The raccoon pulls the squirming tree off of the former assassin and then elbows Drax.

"Right!" Drax shouts, much too loudly, "I am also conveniently tired." He yawns dramatically for effect.

"Come on." Rocket sighs, rolling his eyes as the three of them leave the room. The door shuts behind them and Gamora turns her head slightly to meet Peter's gaze. Her brain feels like it's in a fog and weighs a hundred pounds.

Peter is holding her hand within his. It's warm and grounds her in the present. He has dark circles under his eyes and he looks like he hasn't rested in days. Has he been by her side the whole time?

"You should rest." She tells him quietly.

Peter just shrugs, "Nah, I'm good."

She chuckles softly, "You look horrible."

"Ouch," He laughs, though it doesn't reach his eyes. He winks at her, "You should know a lot of Earth girls would fall in love with a guy that stayed by her bedside."

"Good thing I'm not an Earth girl." She retorts.

"Good thing." Peter murmurs.

He still hasn't let go of her hand. Maybe he's not aware of it. From the time they've been together, she's noticed that Peter always needs to reassure himself through touch. He constantly is touching the team—hand shakes with Drax, high fives with Rocket, hugs with Groot and with her, well, he holds her hand more often than she would care to admit.

But she gets it. Peter has been alone for so long. Adjusting to a team full of people that care for you, that treat you as if you belong, she constantly needs to remind herself that this is real. So, she could call him on the hand holding, but she won't. She also won't admit that she secretly enjoys it as well.

"Hey."

"Hmmm?"

She could tell him what she'd been trying to tell him before. About her feelings and about how she cares for him. She could try to give voice to the confusion swirling around in her heart.

"Gamora?" Peter questions softly.

"Thanks," She manages to say instead, "For finding me."

Peter beams, "I'll always find you, Gamora."

There's so much left unsaid between them. But for now, she's tired and Peter is here with her so she'll rest.

Maybe tomorrow, they can talk about it.

Author's Note: I'll post a new chapter soon. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!