Chapter Text
You had a life here.
No, no she didn’t. There was a version of Gamora, one that belonged to this time who had a life here - but it wasn’t her. The Gamora who stood alone on some backwater planet in the deepest and loneliest part of the galaxy was one thrown nine years ahead into a world she didn’t know.
In this one, Thanos was dead, but more importantly so was she. In this world, Nebula considered her a sister rather than the enemy. In this world, Gamora had a family.
After the battle on the semi-primitive Terra, Gamora disappeared, away from the people who seemed to know her as well as she knew herself. As she parted with Nebula on the battlefield, the two sisters gave each other a knowing look, the dust of their former allies clouding the sky above them.
“You could stay.” Nebula had said, her black eyes twitching as she met her sister’s ones, her bionic arm reflecting the fires burning around them - she didn’t have that in Gamora’s own time.
“You know I can’t. You told me who these people are, who he was, but the Gamora they know isn’t me. My place isn’t with them, they’re strangers to me.” Gamora had slid Godslayer back into her belt, her heart telling her to stay with Nebula, to finally see her as a sister - but Gamora wasn’t emotional, or led so easily by her wants and needs, but by logic.
Gamora didn’t know what the universe had in store for her next, but it wasn’t right for her to join this group of people who she didn’t know - but who knew her so well. She had ended up on some planet out of reach from the nearest Nova Corps outpost, and one she didn’t know the name of. For the first time in her life she didn’t have anywhere to belong, even with Thanos she had a place, but now she was free - yet it didn’t feel right. She felt robbed of driving the blade of Godslayer through his heart, to watch the blood pour down his body as the life faded from his eyes.
Gamora turned, pulling the hood she wore up as she walked through a forest of glowing trees, the bluish hue was dull, but was enough to light the path to the makeshift camp she’d set up. She was hungry, cold and exhausted. Her legs screamed for attention, for rest, as she finally reached the dying fire she had set up already. Gamora sat on the ground, her legs crossed as she arched her back forward, hunching over in the bitter coldness of the forest. Yet she didn’t regret turning down Nebula’s offer of joining her. Gamora couldn’t stand the way they had looked at her, the alien touch of that Terran - Quill - on her face, or the way his friends looked at her like a ghost as she caught them staring when Quill had pointed to her during the fight. She didn’t know them, and didn’t give a damn if they knew her.
For over twenty years her life had been about survival, and despite her newfound freedom - that hadn’t changed. Gamora would make her own way through the galaxy, living as she wanted. Unfound, unknown and unfeared. In the darkness of the long night, Gamora fell asleep, unpeacefully so, unsure of her own fate.
ONE YEAR LATER
It’s been a year. One whole year since half the universe snapped back into existence, and a year since he lost her. At first, Peter didn’t know what the hell was going on, but in fairness he didn’t know what was going on a lot of the time anyways. He remembers a blind rage fuelled by the feeling like his entire world fell out from underneath him.
“What does this monster have to mourn?!”
“Gamora..”
In the four years he had spent with her, even through the danger they lived through - he never imagined losing her, it never crossed his mind - that he would actually lose her forever. But even then, he couldn’t believe Thanos, he had to be lying - he had to. Gamora, his Gamora couldn’t be dead. It ripped him apart to think the last she ever saw of him was his blaster aimed at her face, his hand shaking uncontrollably as he pulled the trigger.
And then of course, he watched as Mantis, who he had grown to consider a sister, turned to dust in his arms - followed by Drax, and then himself. That was a weird day.
The next thing he recalls is waking up in the exact same position he was in the moment he died, exhaling the breath he inhaled just as he turned to dust. Everything seemed the same, aside from the absence of the Benatar, Nebula and Tony.
The next thing he knew after that, was he was standing on the ground of his homeplanet he hadn’t seen in a long time, fighting a war five years in the making, apparently. They were all there, side by side, but Gamora wasn’t there - until she was. For him it had barely been an hour, but he was stricken with a heart wrenching pang in his chest as his mask dissolved back into itself to let bare eyes rest on her. As his hand reached out to make shaky contact with her cheek, he was yet again reminded of just how strong she was, as she wrenched his hand back and glared at him intensely - before kneeing him twice right where it hurt.
To say he hadn’t ever been more confused was an understatement - and as he lay groaning on the ground, he came to the devastating conclusion that she wasn’t his girl anymore - or rather, she never had been.
When the battle died down, and the army had turned to dust just as he had once, his chest constricted with a blind panic as Gamora disappeared from sight. If there was a God, which Peter had vehemently denied the existence of, he prayed with all the will he had that she hadn’t gone with them. He wouldn’t lose her again, regardless of how many times she slammed her knee into his nuts.
After everyone had kneeled around the body of Stark, the man he had met on Titan - and couldn’t deny he had an immense amount of respect for - Nebula had told him of Gamora’s decision to leave, which she said with a voice dripping in regret. In that moment, Peter didn’t focus on the fact she had left them, he didn’t care, all he took from that was Gamora is alive. She’s here, and she’s alive.
But one year since, and it had been a year of following false leads of her whereabouts, strongly objecting Nebula’s insistence that searching was futile, that Gamora would be found when she wanted to be found. But the luphomoid was forgetting one very key factor, and that was the fact that Peter was undeniably love’s bitch - and leaving Gamora alone in a galaxy she didn’t know was not an option for him.
“I am Groot.” The young Flora colossus complained as he stood over Rocket, holding a tool box - separated from his game console.
“Quit whining, you can go back to your flarkin’ game when I’ve fixed the dumbass navigation system that’s been broken for two weeks!” Rocket gestured wildly whilst pulling wires from a small compartment in the floor, “No thanks to lover boy over there.” He jabbed a paw towards Quill, who sat slumped in the frontmost seat of the ship, headphones on and music blaring.
Groot’s lined face settled into a discontented expression as he rolled his eyes, “I am Groot.” His sarcastic response was quickly answered by the newest addition to the team, Thor, who made his way up to the seats up front, a drink in each hand, “Tree, the rabbit is teaching you skills that will prove most beneficial to you in the future.” His sentence finished with a loud belch as he fell into the seat beside Quill - her seat.
He hadn’t changed much - physically - in the year since he’d joined the team, if anything, he had gained even more weight. A topic of conversation which was frequently brought up by Drax, who found it entertaining to point out that Thor was resembling Quill. Thor held out a bottle to Quill, who shook his head dismissively, which the Asgardian understood with no further prompting and took a large swig of the drink, “Uh - where to?” He made small talk. Peter hated that.
“Another lead, it’s credible, I think it might be her this time.” Peter removed the headphones, putting them around his neck as he took the ship off of the autopilot, which sent a slight shockwave through it, earning a yell from Rocket. He wanted something to focus on, rather than mindlessly running through scenarios in his head.
Rocket appeared behind him in seconds, “As credible as the leads we’ve had for the last year? Guess what, Quill, we’re no closer to finding her because - Oh yeah! She isn’t Gamora and she doesn't know us, and she don’t wanna be found.” Rocket reasoned with viciousness in his voice, in some ways, Peter understood why. For Rocket it had been five years, he had time to come to terms with her death, with them all, to just undo all of that was taking its toll.
Despite the fact he understood where Rocket’s spite was coming from, he threw him a disgruntled look, “Last I checked, she is Gamora, and I’m not giving up on her because she isn’t dead.”
The lead, as it turned out, was false. Or rather when they arrived they discovered that the message was sent out a week prior to the Benatar receiving it, meaning that Gamora most likely had been here - but within the week it had been sent in she was gone. Peter couldn’t exactly describe the way he felt anymore, every let down and false lead he couldn’t look the Guardians in the eyes, to watch their pitiful and sorrowful looks as they trudged back to the ship to continue their fruitless endeavour. She was out there, he knew it, and he was so sure that somehow he could convince her to come with him if he were just given the chance.
In some ways, he thought that if this Gamora wasn’t here, it would be easier, to just work on moving on with his life without her, but he was fooling himself. Peter’s life wasn’t his without her, he needed her like his lungs needed oxygen - since she’s been gone he can’t breathe, or sleep. The songs he would clumsily dance with her to on a quiet ship when the others were passed out carved craters into his heart and soul, every time he shut his eyes he saw hers. The tears brimming as Thanos held her by the neck, forcing her towards the blaster. He couldn’t save her, he was too weak, it was never more evident that Peter was never good enough for Gamora.
But the loneliness was somewhat manageable when he was awake, surrounded by what was left of his family. Sometimes it was possible to laugh for a brief moment at a clueless comment from Drax, or an articulate jab from Rocket, but as laughing filled the room, his eyes would land on the empty seat nobody ever dared sit in.
It’s why he didn’t sleep much anymore, because he never felt as lonely when he was staring at that untouched side of the bed.