aka; yes, i was there too
For once in his life, Peter was doing it all right. Things were going pretty smoothly. He even remembered the milk. Well. Noticed the milk when he was trying to make hot chocolate. ââMora! Dani! Milkâs empty, message me if you want anythinâ from the store!âÂ
Looking back, heâd say heâd gone too soft. Went round the block unarmed. Sneakers instead of jet boots. Keys, phone and cash, not a lot else. The rest of that was a gap in time, kinda. It was just an overwhelming urge to go to a park he didnât even know existed. The last thing he remembered doing was telling the urge to fuck off. It worked for all of 30 seconds or so. Next thing, he was in that park. No clue how he got there. Left his travel pass at home. His phone was going off in his pocket, and as much as he wanted to answer it, it was like a command in his head: donât move an inch. He was an outlaw, a pirate captain, he didnât do shit for crazy guys. Problem was - he couldnât move. His lifeline just buzzed uselessly against his hipbone. Just like - the Walkman, at his waist, there for the taking - Peter Quill screamed. His body did not. He had to focus on something, something that wasnât...this. He couldnât even do that - couldnât shift his goddamn gaze more than a vague awareness of a man and a woman around him. Until a familiar face came out of nowhere. Like some kinda guardian angel in leather. Jessica goddamn Jones. She was hardcore. It was like Aleta Ogord showing up in the middle of a space fight. Sheâd take this guy out. No problem. Right? Except, the way she looked at him with such fear - sent a chill down his spine. Weâre all gonna die and yâainât never gonna see any of your family again and the last shit you said was about milk. Yâdidnât tell her you loved her âcause you were talkinâ to Dani as well. There was no point. He couldnât do anything except sit here and wait for it to happen. No Yondu to come to the rescue this time. Sorry, Dad. Mom - He couldnât even close his eyes and think of her. He had to watch Jessica, and another woman, and the asshole. He was too far back to hear the discussion. Peter knew, he sure as hell knew it was difficult. If she was the only one who he couldnât hurt, she was gonna have to kill him. In front of the civilians. Peter could take it. Had seen the Yaka Arrow do its worst a million times. Would sit through it a million more to be free. Then he was walking. He could hold it off in the store, for a few seconds, but he couldnât stop it now. Panic rose up like icy water in his chest again. He wasnât gonna hurt Jessica. He wasnât. Oh, shit, he was and he wasnât ever gonna forgive himself for it - but they just stopped. And then - then he was dead. He was dead. Peter wanted to scream, to thank her, or run away, or something, but he still felt frozen. It was only when the police arrived that his brain kicked in. He mindlessly reached into a pocket of a jacket he wasnât wearing. No SHIELD ID. No way to help the woman who saved his life. There were so many people, and suddenly so many uniforms and it was as if his legs just gave way beneath him. A woman was making sounds at him, but he couldnât make sense of them. She took off her jacket - AMERICAN RED CROSS - and put it over his shoulders. That was a safe thing. Mom said that. If you got lost at the fair you went to find the people with the red crosses on. He tugged the material closer around him, and looked up at her. âCan y - ya need to take care of my milk.â The shopping bag had still been around his wrist this whole time. Hadnât even felt it. The phone vibrated in his pocket. âAnâ my Gamora - my girlfriend. Sheâll come get me - I canât - can yâtell her?â @lastzenwhoberian
