O u t l a w

                           Being brought back was plain cruel. Even for Meredith.

                           Now she had to see what it was like the world without her,                            in the aftermath of her death happened exactly what she                             thought and wanted to happen; the world moved on. Her son                            moved on. But she wasn’t supposed to acknowledged. Even                             then she couldn’t bring herself to feel any kind of disappointed                             if that’s what he was expecting. Whatever went wrong for him,                             whatever mistakes he might have made meant learning, they                            didn’t make him any less in her eyes although she realised                             the concept was too abstract to be explained or understood                              by others. Only a mother would know, she decided. 

                           She couldn’t just way things would be okay, she couldn’t tell                            Peter to get over it, or to feel happy. She didn’t know how to                             feel herself to begin with. And his reaction only made the knot                            in her throat grow painfully almost driving her to burst into tears                             yet somehow she managed not to, her protective instinct was                             stronger than anything else she could feel in that moment and                            staying strong for him was almost as much as she could do. 

                           Her arms tightened the embrace holding him firmly against her                            as though that way she could shield him from all the bad in the                              universe, as if the warm and understand she could offer would                             be enough to comfort him but not even a human would be that                             naive. He was indeed a grown up man now yet he remained                             her small baby boy deep in the cell of his heart, she could feel it                            so clearly the words of how heroic he had been made her chest                                 swell with joy and pride.  

                                  ❝It does count, of course it does. No one grows up                                       perfectly—— do you even know how many things I                                       screwed up with?❞ Her father told her once, out of all                                      the mistakes she had made in her life, being knocked                                      up was the worst of them but she disagreed. Having                                      him saved her life in so many ways. There were no                                       words to describe how much she loved her son.  

                                  ❝You’re here because you learned things in life, you                                       overcame things— hard things. And I am so very                                       proud of you, Peter. I’m proud of the good and the bad,                                      that you’re still alive and that you found your place in the                                      world. If you’re happy, then everything was worth it…  

                                                                                              —— I’m sorry I’m here.❞ 

       Her words hit somewhere they shouldn't have. He felt a pang of guilt after his emotional ride, the way she spoke, the way she regretted being here from disrupting him from his normal adventure across space; it made him only nestle closer and shake his head.

       "No, no, no. Never be sorry you're here. Never, never--"

       He hated how he had retreated into being a child again, how the only woman to capture his heart in the universe, who was the first woman to ever break his heart was back, ready to mend anything and everything he needed. She was caring and as loving as he remembered, warm and soft spoken. 

       He withdrew, only to clasp his hands on her face and brush away any of that guilt she felt to replace it with his own. He wasn't going to let his mother be upset, and he wasn't going to let her go again. Not until she was old and grey and lived a happy and content life.

       "No, mom. No; I'm gonna protect you now. It's my turn. I'm glad you're back-- I am! I wished it for so many years, I wished you'd be back."

       He was mumbling, but it didn't matter. He finally felt the swell of happiness his primary reaction wouldn't let him have. He smiled, eyes soft, cheeks hurting but it didn't matter. After a short time of just smiling, he finally asked the question she might not have wanted to hear so soon.

       "... Do you want to see dad?" There was a pause, a reluctant hesitating sign as he found himself contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to take her. To see what became of their relationship without her. "I... Can take you. I know where he is but..."

       Wow. How to explain to your mother you've be marked to die by your own father?

       "... Me and him don't get along so good."

       That'll do.

                 ”Wait, whaddya mean that this ain’t your ship?”

Course it wasn’t Quill’s ship, he was a thief as much as Gambit was. One of the first rules of doing a high paid gig was never to use your personal vehicle as a get away. It made sense, even if it made this a little tougher.

With a groan, the thief looked around the small cabin for anything that might resemble food. Though, he wasn’t even sure what squids on Earth ate, let alone Squid Princesses from space.

            “The hell even is half this stuff…”

Shifting the princess higher up his shoulder so he could support her with one hand and search with the other, Remy began to sift through the boxes that hadn’t fallen from their places in the walls.

In the wall near to Remys hand, a small light began to blink and a shrill beeping started to sound around the cabin. The Princess was not amused, the giggles swiftly becoming unhappy gurgles. 

In a panic to avoid that crying again, the thief hit the button.

A projection of sorts materialized in the cabin. A slim and very angry looking female flickered into life in front of them. 

          "Quill you have a lot of explai-…Who are you?"

The females rage was replaced by one of confusion as she was greeted with the image of Gambit rather than the outlaw she was expecting. Slim smirk on his face, the thief bowed his head toward her, gesturing his free hand out as he did.

       He turned back to Remy, the triumphant smile on his face as he threw up a tin in caught it in his mock victory of finding something worthwhile to stop her from crying that wouldn't result with a mini coma for himself.

       But his face dropped; panic set in with his hands extending to almost shove Remy away from the console and away from the call that had been trying in constant since he arrive don Earth to contact him. The thief got as far as shoving his hand on Remy's shoulder until she appeared.

       Gamora.

       He looked like a wild eyed rabbit in the headlights of a towering truck and was about to get smushed in seconds by it, until his new found companion began to speak. His fearful expression twisted to brow perking upwards and half disgust on his face.

       "...What the hell are you doing?"

       He almost felt like laughing in his face about any concept of him having Gamora under his charm, and it was evident she lacked interest in the human in the cabin with him in regards to how he spoke. 

       "Quill. You've been missing for hours. What are you--" She stopped. It was hard to tell with the fuzziness of the screen and the way expression never changed, but Peter knew exactly what she was looking at. "...Is that..."

       "Okay, I can explain this one--"

       "Is that what I think it is!?"

       "It hatched! I didn't know it'd hatch!"

       "You went //without// us!?"

       "I just wanted to--"

       "You're a dead man, Quill."

       "... I've heard that from Empires, Gamora."

       "Who is that Terran? Why is there a human with you!?"

  "It’s not a concern to you?"

       He tilted his head and hesitated his words on the concept of it being safe. It'll hold, that was for certain, but perhaps safe was romanticising it a bit.

       "...Why are you looking at my ship like that? Have respect in the presence of something beautiful. Man."

Sentence Meme (The Strange Case Of)

       A slight tut of his tongue was heard with his hand moving to scratch at the back of his hair.

But his words 'time out on the killing' snapped her back, and she pressed her knee into his chest, baring her teeth.

"No! You have stolen something that I need — - I will not release you until I see that it is mine. It matters not to me whether we are soul — whether we are so called soulmate. If this is an illusion you will suffer dearly for it.”

Her voice had wavered, that much she couldn’t deny. She had never been forced to face this kind of thing before — - under Thanos’ reign, everyone was like Gamora. None of them had numbers; too big a risk, to allow some and not others. It was only when Gamora ventured out did she have to face this, and even then it was only for a brief amount of time — - —- - as long as it took to kill someone, really.

Now, to have it put so harshly in her face felt like a cruel joke, and she wondered for a moment if this was one of Thanos’ tests, to gauge her continued loyalty, but the thought was banished from her mind almost as quickly as it had come. Thanos had burned affection from their souls, he had no doubts that it would stay away.

        The crushing of his insides was something he could have done without. This woman, his supposed soul mate was a God damn lunatic; dangerous and beautifully sharp and... Whoa. Snap out of it Quill. He moved his hands to her leg, attempting to throw her off without actually hurting her.

        Wait, why was he even trying to be nice about her? She was obviously out for the kill. Hesitating, but still out there. With a flick of his boot and a knock on the ground, he activated one of his rockets. The propulsion sent him darting out from under her, but landing rather crudely on the floor just a few short yards away with a harsh roll.

        But it didn't stop him. Now he had to run fast; not only for his life, but because of the feelings he was getting. He half skidded upwards and shot through the onlookers providing the two. He should have thought about what she needed, what she wanted.

        But for some reason, all he could think about was her in general. 

        His eyes drifted to the timer on his wrist, still zero's, still thick and obvious. He moved to slap his own wrist with a huff, muttering something about "Stupid numbers," before skidding around the corner.

        He could shoot her. Sure, that worked before. Being prejudice about who to throw a bullet in didn't depend on anything but whether they were trying to kill him or not. But the feeling made him sick. 

        This wasn't right.

     She doesn’t respond to the second option with anything more than a shake of her head a smile that’s impossible to avoid. Gwen has seen the other women who are worthy of the title, and is certain that they both might just be the most beautiful women on any planet.

     Whether he’s just being his charming self or genuinely means every syllable of the compliment doesn’t matter; it warms her all the same.

     Or perhaps it’s his touch.

     The way he holds her hands takes her by surprise, but the gesture is no less comforting, and she brushes his knuckles in an attempt to achieve the same for Peter. With everything he does for the galaxy, he deserves a little comfort too from time to time.

     And then something occurs to her.

     ❝— You didn’t understand that reference, did you?❞

        He answered so quickly but still with a large smile on his face shown that it didn't matter. He was aware of how young Gwen was compared to him, he was almost double her age; but she was brilliant. He hadn't met a mind like hers before in a long time, and with the bright conviction and the acceptance of all that he was when he accidentally flew into her life, it made him happy all the same. 

        Gwen Stacy was an incredible heroine, and perhaps sending her back into Oscorp for a part they stole from him was something that could potentially harm her in the future. He'd make sure nothing happened. He kept promises like that. 

        "Okay, so. You're gonna let me in on... What floor?"

        He could fly up with no problem, but not as discreetly as he might like. A flying figure was always the talk of this town. Really, Earth liked to gossip and report things faster than they can actually invent worth while tech. At least there were people like Gwen around to compensate.

        Brilliant Gwen.

        "Once you get me in, I want you to go back to work and do things normally. It'll be trouble. A lot of trouble. The kind of trouble you don't want. You could get fired. That's bad for you, right?"

                         ❝ Peter. ❞  

           Her voice slipped through her lips with such softness            as though trying to bring his mind back to reality where            inexplicably the woman was just standing before him            against all odds and any logic whatsoever. 

                       ❝ You’ve grown up so much.❞  

           Although that didn’t necessarily mean he had changed             in the slightest. She still could see the same boy she            had given birth to in the way his fearful blue eyes shifted             away from her face or how he observed her staying still,            he had never been fond of life changes.

        He moved away from her, a few steps in the opposing direction, before he came back to her. His face had it written all over him; the inability to express what he was feeling. This was all foreign, new and old, exhausting. Despite his plea about his father, his mother merely complimented him, stared lovingly at him like she never left.

        It made him angry. It made him angry that he had to live years without her, and she was back. He'd buried his mother in his own way, loved her from each breath he took -- And here she was. Living, breathing, staring at him like she did in the years he tried to forget on Earth.

        The anger wasn't subjected to a violent outburst, merely the pursed lips and the extending of his arms. His grip moved to them, holding her in place as he began to crumple under the weight of the unexplainable, his head dropping against her shoulder and his knees bent as he felt like he was five years old again.

        "I didn't grow up great, mom, but I grew up alright-- That counts, right?"

        He couldn't lie to her. He was a thief, brought up by thieves, brought up by the dark and the betraying. But he was happy. He was happy where he was now, even if most wouldn't.

        "I've even been really heroic. I'm beating up actual bad people and not... Not bullies who-- Who killed frogs or--"

        He knew he was babbling. He'd look like a snivelling mess in front of any other Guardian, or anyone that knew him. But how could he not be? How could he digest this all without feeling heavy nostalgia and the old pain resurface?

        Quill may have been half human, but these feelings were the most human he'd ever felt. 

Pieces of wreckage littered the ground for at least a mile, there were several trenches dug out where whatever it was had hit the ground and skittered across it, leaving a trail to follow to it’s resting place in a grove of trees.

“It’s a ship… ” Jane muttered to herself, picking up pieces here and there to take back to the lab. “Ships have pilots… . . Hello!” In that instant of realization this became less the scientific mission and more a rescue of whatever or whoever had been flying this thing.  

          "Hell...Hello...?"

          His response was quiet, he shifted and winced, fingers tensing over his wound as the pressure applied helped. In truth, he shouldn't have survived that crash at all. He was lucky to just come out with a scratch. 

          Hearing nothing from his communicator, he gave up, letting his hand thump against the floor and to look across the wreckage. The voice echoed again, but this time he was more alert. Eyes scanned the parts of wreckage and upturned soil, settling on a figure in the distance. 

          Moving his hand to his gun, he settled his palm on the floor, aiming the gun directly ahead. He'd learned not to trust someone straight off the bat; especially when half the universe wanted him dead.

    “I don’t need help getting Two-Face. However, it’s       your gun. You come and get it back. Nothing more.”

   His voice was surprisingly clear and still reminiscent of that husk, even in this vice grip, but he was aware this individual had an instinctive fighting style, so at least one or two physical retorts would come to mind, if a broken arm or more couldn’t deter him. Segue to his relinquished grip and uplifted posture; no care to help the other up, only to implement his alternative.

          He was getting fed up with his face in the dirt, but it wasn't the first time it happened, nor the last. He could have opted for the rocket boots at this point, momentum could have knocked the Bat guy off him and with the added control he had on it and the expertise of his movements, he was sure he could have avoided a broken arm if need be. But, he was trying to make friends. Something he wasn't exceptionally good at, nor he thought was the caped crusader.

          "Ever thought about loosening up a little? In fact, talking about loosening up. My arm. Ow."

          He tapped his free hand, not exactly trying to fight him. Getting his gun back was all he really wanted, and any lack of help meant it being more beneficial to him. Making friends, or partners for a job seemed to be it. Something he was used to with being a ravager.

          "By the way? Once I've got my gun, I'm going. This is as bad as New York. People in tights running everywhere--"