Archive of Our Own

one.

Since leaving Ego’s planet and joining the Guardians, Mantis has learned a lot about the galaxy. 

One of the most valuable lessons she’s learned so far: integrating into an already-established team is extremely difficult.

It doesn’t help that the Guardians are difficult folks to begin with. Gamora and Rocket are the prickliest of the bunch, and though Peter does his best to make Mantis feel welcome, he’s usually preoccupied with keeping the others in check or dealing with his grief over losing Yondu. Drax is who Mantis ends up spending the most time with, and he’s nice enough to explain things to her when she’s confused, at least. But sometimes Mantis gets the feeling that when Drax explains things, he isn’t always telling the truth, and is instead just telling her what he thinks will turn out to be funny later on.

Honestly, out of everyone on the team, Mantis finds Groot to be the easier to get along with.

And he’s a baby.

Still, Mantis thinks she’s adjusting okay. Gamora is softening around Mantis little by little; she's even started sitting next to her during team meals, even if Mantis thinks that has more to do with the fact that Gamora is relieved to no longer be the only woman on the team than anything else. But even Rocket has begun tolerating Mantis. Sometimes he even lets her assist with the ship’s repairs, as long as she promises not to touch anything important. And Gamora and Peter finally spoke to Drax and told him to knock it off and stop messing with her so much, which has helped. 

Sure, it’s still awkward, trying to fit into this misfit team, and the Guardians are definitely a strange bunch. But Mantis is starting to realize that she’s a little strange herself, so really, it isn’t so bad.

Honestly, the real problem isn’t the team as a whole. It’s Nebula.

Fortunately, Nebula is someone Mantis doesn’t have to deal with often, given Nebula’s current preoccupation with her solo revenge mission. But Nebula and Gamora are making a real effort at mending their relationship, which evidently means Nebula is doing surprise drop-ins on the Benatar every few months or so, and so far, every interaction Mantis has with Nebula has left a bad taste in her mouth.

Mantis feels partially guilty about it. After all, Nebula is Gamora’s sister; she’s important to Gamora, and therefore, by extension, she’s important to the rest of the Guardians, and making an ally out of your teammate’s sister is a surefire way to fit in more quickly with a team. Or so Mantis assumes. 

The problem is, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Nebula wants nothing to do with Mantis at all. 

“I think Nebula hates me,” Mantis announces one morning, as she, Drax, Rocket, and Groot are eating breakfast on the ship. Peter and Gamora are out on a supply run, and when Mantis mentioned earlier that they were taking a long time, Rocket and Drax just snickered, and Mantis still isn't sure what that was supposed to mean.

Drax nods. “Well, she probably does hate you.”

Mantis frowns. 

“I am Groot,” Groot chirps as he munches his cereal. He’s grown quite a bit in the months since Mantis started traveling with the Guardians, and the others are even beginning to understand some of what he says, though Mantis still has some trouble.

“She hates everyone,” Rocket translates for Mantis quickly. Actually, h e’s surprisingly patient when it comes to translating for her. When they have time to spare, he teaches her ways to best understand Groot, even though Mantis is pretty sure it’s one of those things you just have to adjust to. Still, Mantis is grateful for the lessons, even though when she last tried to thank Rocket for them, he got weird and cranky about it. When Mantis asked Gamora about this reaction, she told Mantis he’d only acted like that to save face.

She isn’t completely sure what that means, either.

“Exactly,” Drax says, nodding again. “She hates all of us.”

“See?” Rocket says to Mantis. “Don’t take it personal.”

Mantis isn’t taking it personal, per se. In fact, if asked, Mantis would probably say that not taking it personal is both a startlingly accurate summary of herself and something she should probably work on.

It’s just that Nebula seems to tolerate everyone except for her, in her own little way. Well, maybe not Drax, but Nebula at least seems to have some sort of begrudging respect for Rocket and Peter. But when it comes to Mantis, Nebula can barely spare her the time of day. Every time Mantis tries to speak to her, Nebula rolls her eyes, or worse, ignores her completely.

“Just give it some time,” Rocket says. “Eventually, she’ll start to pretend to tolerate you like she does the rest of us.”

Mantis, who remains unconvinced, just takes another bite of her cereal.

two.

Mantis has been a Guardian for nearly a year when Gamora finally starts teaching her how to fight.

It’s a new experience for her. After all, fighting wasn’t anything she ever had any use for when she was living on Ego’s planet; what would a pet need to know about combat, anyway? But with the Guardians, where some of their missions are so dangerous that they could very well be their last, it’s a necessity. 

Mantis is apprehensive about the idea at first. She isn’t sure fighting is something she’s naturally inclined to, and can’t imagine she’ll be any good at it. In fact, it feels almost like it goes against her natural abilities. As an empath, she specializes in understanding others and their emotions. Fighting them feels like the direct opposite of that. 

She voices this to Gamora in one of their first lessons, but Gamora dismisses her concerns almost immediately.

“It’s not the opposite at all,” she says. Then she shrugs. “If anything, your empath abilities could be an advantage.”

And it’s interesting, what a different perspective Mantis and Gamora seem to have on things. Mantis really doesn’t know that much about Gamora’s past – she and Rocket both rarely talk about their backgrounds – but Mantis has learned some of it in bits and pieces. She knows about Thanos, at least, and knows he trained her into an assassin and a weapon. It occurs to her that under Thanos’ control, Gamora was probably taught to view every natural-born quality in a person not as something that just happened to be a part of them, but as either a weakness or an advantage. It’s interesting to Mantis that even after a year with the Guardians, Gamora’s old training still keeps kicking in.

Still. It actually doesn’t sound like bad advice. 

“You can alter someone’s feelings, can’t you?” Gamora asks suddenly, pulling Mantis out of her thoughts.

Mantis shifts on her feet, suddenly nervous. “Only a little.”

“You kept a literal god asleep for several minutes in the battle against Ego,” Gamora reminds her. “That isn’t a little.”

Mantis blinks and then says nothing.

“You have the ability to use someone else’s feelings to control their behavior,” Gamora continues. “That’s an advantage. Especially in hand-to-hand combat.”

“How?” Mantis asks.

Gamora spreads out her legs, moving into a defensive stance on the mat across from Mantis. “Let’s try it and find out.”

Mantis feels stunned. “You want me to use my powers against you?”

“You’ll try something small,” Gamora says with a shrug. “Convince me that the back of my neck itches, or something.”

Mantis hesitates. “But what if – ”

“Mantis,” Gamora interrupts. Her voice is steady. “It’s fine. I trust you.”

It’s strange – just a year ago, when Mantis had simply suggested the idea of reading Gamora’s emotions, she’d threatened Mantis with a broken jaw. And when Mantis had acted on it later, had tried to calm Gamora’s fear, she’d completely panicked. And now here she stands, asking Mantis to try it again. Telling Mantis that she trusts her. 

They’ve both come a long way, and the thought makes a warm feeling glow in Mantis’ chest.

“Ready?” Gamora says.

Mantis nods, and then Gamora swings a fist toward her that Mantis ducks away from, almost stumbling over her feet as she quickly maneuvers behind Gamora, and before Gamora can aim another punch, Mantis places a hand on top of her head. 

“Your neck itches,” Mantis says, copying Gamora’s suggestion, and even though Mantis’ voice sounds shaky and uncertain even to her own ears, Gamora immediately drops her fists and scratches a hand at her neck.

It only lasts a second – Mantis undoes the command almost as quickly as she’d given it, hating the idea of controlling her teammate a second longer than she needs to. When Gamora turns back to Mantis, no longer scratching, her back is straight, and her posture looks poised and collected, the same as always, but the look on her face is surprised and perhaps vaguely uncomfortable. Mantis supposes she isn’t surprised by this; it didn’t take her long to realize that Gamora is someone who values control above anything else, and feels anxious by the idea of anything being outside of hers. 

“I’m sorry – ” Mantis starts.

“It’s okay,” Gamora interrupts immediately. “I asked you to do it.”

And when Mantis looks at her a little longer, she realizes Gamora means it. She doesn’t look angry, either; instead, her eyebrows are raised. Almost as though she’s impressed.

“We’ll have to keep working on that,” Gamora says finally.

At last, Mantis feels herself smile. 

True to her word, they do work on it. In fact, Mantis has gotten comfortable enough with her powers that she even uses them in real Guardians missions sometimes. Sure, she still feels nervous about it, but Gamora has assured her that with enough practice, she’ll gain more confidence in her abilities. 

So they keep practicing. At this point, Mantis practices with Gamora multiple times a week. She’d like to think she’s even starting to get good, not just when it comes to using her empathic abilities but also just at fighting in general. She doesn’t always go up against Gamora – she’s practiced with Peter a few times – but Gamora is who she likes fighting with best. Peter always holds back, like he’s afraid to hurt her, but Gamora treats Mantis like she’s a real opponent. 

They’ve been practicing for a few months before Nebula drops in again. It’s her third or fourth visit in the past year; Mantis doesn’t know the exact number, as she hasn’t been keeping track. What she has been keeping track of is the fact that Mantis has known Nebula for over a year, and Nebula has yet to have a conversation with her directly.

Sure, Nebula isn’t exactly chatty with the others, but they talk. She offers Rocket advice for fixing the ship, makes vague threats against Peter on her sister’s behalf, rolls her eyes and makes snide comments about Drax when he isn’t within earshot. But she doesn’t address Mantis at all. Mantis has started to give up on the idea of ever figuring out why. 

Which is why she’s so surprised when, in the middle of her sparring session with Gamora, she sees Nebula watching them from the other side of the room. 

Mantis and Gamora are using weapons today. It’s not their first time, but they don’t bring them out often, mainly because Mantis hates them. She isn’t confident with a knife or sword like she’s starting to be with her hands, even though Gamora keeps reminding her she isn’t going to be empty-handed in every fight, and her enemies certainly won’t be. So today, they’re practicing with swords, the blades dulled for sparring purposes. 

Before Nebula showed up to watch, Mantis thought she was doing alright. Gamora had won two matches, and Mantis had only won one, but that was better than nothing. It’s under Nebula’s watchful eye now that Mantis grows surer and surer that she’s completely bombing this. Her feet are unsteady, and she keeps stumbling while dodging Gamora’s blows, and she feels overly self-conscious of every move she makes, and she can’t help but think Nebula’s noticing all of it and judging her. Why wouldn’t she be? Nebula has fought against Gamora millions of times. She probably knows how to best go up against her more than anyone. She’s probably watching Mantis’ every move and thinking of what she would’ve done in Mantis’ place, of all the things Mantis should be doing instead, of all the times Mantis should’ve won against Gamora by now – 

“Ow,” Mantis shouts suddenly, gripping her left hand with her right as her sword clatters to the floor.

Gamora halts, lowering her own sword. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong is that Mantis, like an idiot, let the sword slip slightly out of her grip, and when she’d gone to adjust it, she’d closed part of her palm around the blade, which, though dulled, was sharp enough to leave a cut on her hand that’s already starting to bleed. 

“Shit,” Gamora says, noticing the cut too. “Are you alright?”

Mantis opens her mouth to say she’s fine – because she is fine, really, it’s just her pride that’s been injured – when Nebula pushes herself off the wall she’s leaning against, stepping onto the sparring mat to join them. “What happened?”

Mantis looks down at the blood trickling from the cut on her palm. Her face feels bizarrely hot.

“I’m fine,” she says. “My hand just – slipped.”

Gamora frowns at Mantis, but Nebula doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s spoken. She just turns to Gamora, then says flatly, “You shouldn’t work her so hard.”

Mantis freezes.

Gamora’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Nebula says. “You need to go easier on her.”

Gamora’s nostrils flare. “I’m perfectly capable of conducting a sparring session on my own, Nebula.”

Nebula cuts a glance at Mantis’ palm, then says to Gamora, “Clearly you aren’t.”

“In case you didn’t realize, I didn’t even cut her, Nebula. She just said her hand slipped, did she not?”

“Yes, and now she’s bleeding, which – ”

“She is right here, you know,” Mantis cuts in.

Gamora and Nebula both fall silent, turning to Mantis in surprise. Mantis is a little surprised herself, mainly at the bitterness coloring her own tone. But then Gamora’s expression softens, and Mantis hates that, hates that look of pity all because of Mantis making a simple mistake, and especially hates that it’s coming from Gamora of all people, who has been the one person Mantis was starting to think took her seriously. 

“Mantis,” Gamora starts.

“You don’t need to go easy on me,” Mantis says finally, hating how badly her voice wobbles, but she forces herself to turn to Nebula and hold her gaze as she says, “I’m fine. I’m not a child.”

And then, before either of them can say anything, Mantis spins on her heel, marching off to the closet on the other side of the ship that holds first aid supplies. 

Mantis’ hand shakes when she pulls the box of bandages from the shelf in the closet, and she fumbles with the bandages as she unsuccessfully attempts to tie one around her wound, the blood from the cut beginning to slowly drip onto the floor. It’s a lot more than she expected, especially from a dulled blade, but Mantis doesn’t feel hurt, not really. She isn’t even upset. She’s just embarrassed. She knew better than to lose focus like that in the middle of a sparring session, and she let herself get hurt anyway, and God, why did it have to happen while Nebula was there – 

Suddenly, Mantis hears footsteps approaching behind her.

“I’m fine, Gamora,” she calls over her shoulder.

“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding on the floor.”

But it isn’t Gamora’s voice that says it. Mantis freezes, then whirls around to see Nebula standing in the closet doorway, gazing at Mantis with an unimpressed expression.

Mantis swallows. “Yes, well.” She looks back down at the bandage in her hand. “It’s a lot harder to wrap a bandage one-handed than it looks.”

Nebula scoffs, and then to Mantis’ surprise, she steps forward, joining Mantis in the closet. “Just give it to me,” she says, holding out a hand.

Mantis narrows her eyes at Nebula’s outstretched hand. She doesn’t want Nebula’s help. She doesn’t need it. She’s an adult, not a child, and she’s tired of everyone assuming that just because she had a sheltered upbringing, that means she can’t do anything for herself. 

Except, as Mantis continues to fumble with the bandage…well, it’s becoming awfully clear that this is one thing at least that she needs help with. So, with a reluctant sigh, Mantis holds out a bandage, and Nebula takes it.

“I didn’t realize you were sparring with Gamora now,” Nebula comments as she wraps the bandage around Mantis’ hand. She’s careful and almost surgical about it, her hands brushing against Mantis’ skin as little as possible. 

“Well, we are,” Mantis says stiffly.

“Gamora is intense,” Nebula says after a moment, still wrapping the bandage. “And way too competitive. She takes fighting seriously, even if it’s just sparring. She’s not someone I’d want to practice against.”

Mantis feels herself frown. “She isn’t like that when we fight. She’s been helpful.”

It isn’t until Mantis says it out loud that it feels like a realization. Yes, Gamora is intense, and naturally competitive. She knows a little about her and Nebula’s fights, and how Gamora won each one. But she isn’t like that with Mantis at all. It’s just sparring, after all. It isn’t a competition, and there isn’t a winner. They’re fighting for practice, or for fun, not to prove anything to anyone, and as Mantis realizes that, she wonders suddenly if their sparring sessions haven’t just been about helping Mantis. She wonders if they’ve been helping Gamora, too, just in a different way.

Nebula ties the bandage off – wrapped firmly around her hand, but not too tight – then says, “She’s a tough opponent, is all I’m saying.”

Mantis feels a flare of irritation in her chest. “Trust me – I can handle it.”

Nebula glances up at her, and their eyes meet. Mantis realizes suddenly how close they’re standing to one another, how small this first aid closet is, and how has she never noticed how intense Nebula’s stare was, how her dark eyes make it feel as though she’s looking into the very deepest part of you?

Probably because Nebula doesn't ever look at her, Mantis thinks. And it’s hypocritical of Mantis to feel uncomfortable by Nebula's deep stare. She’s an empath; she looks into the deepest parts of people all the time But there’s something about Nebula’s gaze boring into hers that makes Mantis fight hard against the urge to look away. 

At last, Nebula drops her gaze, lets go of Mantis’ hand, and takes a step away from her.

“Be more careful next time,” Nebula finally says in a flat voice, and before Mantis can say anything in response, she turns and walks away.

It’s only later, after Nebula’s already left the Guardians behind to resume her solo revenge mission, that Mantis realizes it’s the only time Nebula has ever spoken directly to her. 

three.

As it turns out, ceasing to exist for five years and then suddenly coming back to life can be a lot to take in.

Figuring out everything she’s missed is a learning curve. For starters, it turns out time travel is a thing, and it’s thanks to Rocket building a time machine that any of them came back at all. Another thing Mantis missed is that Thor is evidently an honorary Guardian of the Galaxy, if the way he and Rocket are buddy-buddy now plus his sudden presence on the Benatar is any indication. And for another thing, Gamora – 

Well. Gamora is gone. 

She isn’t gone gone; at least, not depending on your definition of the word. The Gamora that Mantis met on Berhert, that taught Mantis how to spar, that Mantis considered family – that Gamora is gone, and there’s no getting her back. But evidently, due to time travel shenanigans, there’s another Gamora out there, one snatched from the year 2014 and who is alive and well and doesn’t know Mantis or the rest of the Guardians at all, a version of Gamora who left the battlefield on Terra without saying a word to any of them.

And in her place, it seems that Nebula has joined the team.

Mantis isn’t sure how she feels about this. If asked for her thoughts on the matter, she’d probably describe them as mostly negative, given that in the four years Mantis has known Nebula – seven if you count the Blip, which Mantis still isn’t sure she should count – the two of them have never quite become friends. They’re allies, or something like it, at the very least; they’ve fought together a few times, most recently on Titan. And Nebula must trust Mantis to some degree, given she called her directly from Thanos’ ship instead of reaching out to any of the others.  But that doesn’t mean they’re friends, and it certainly doesn’t mean Mantis is excited by the prospect of someone who hates her most of the time moving in.

And yet, when all of the Guardians had taken off from Terra, Nebula followed behind Rocket onto the Benatar without a word, and that was that.

It isn’t so bad if Mantis is being honest. Nebula mostly stays out of the way and doesn’t speak much to any of them other than Rocket. She doesn’t even talk to Rocket much, actually, but sometimes Mantis overhears them speaking quietly while Nebula helps Rocket out with repairs on the ship, and she sometimes catches them exchanging silent glances that she doesn’t know how to interpret. It’s funny; Mantis can’t recall them ever being close before the Blip, but she supposes she isn’t surprised by their new friendship. They were all each other had for five years. It only makes sense they’d stick together. And, weirdly, the two of them being friends sort of makes sense regardless.

But aside from spending time with Rocket, Nebula has mostly kept to herself these first few weeks on the Benatar with everyone back. Mantis has hardly been in the same room as her, which is strange, given the ship isn’t very large. 

It’s why she’s so surprised when she leaves her room in the middle of the night and stumbles upon Nebula sitting alone at the table in their makeshift kitchen, drinking out of one of Rocket’s mugs and staring out the window into open space.

“Nebula,” Mantis says in surprise, stumbling back a bit as Nebula turns away from the window to look up at her, startled. “Sorry, um – you just scared me.”

Nebula lowers her mug. “What, did you forget I lived here, too?”

Mantis blinks. “No. I just…wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake.”

Nebula huffs, then takes a sip from her mug. 

“Is that coffee?” Mantis asks. Then she raises her eyebrows. “Or did you break into Thor’s beer supply?”

Nebula rolls her eyes. “It’s coffee. I think Thor would murder me if I touched his precious stash.”

“I don’t know. I think you could take him, probably.”

Nebula blinks, as though she’s surprised, then lets out another huff, and Mantis wishes Nebula would stop acting surprised every time she does something that falls out of line with Nebula’s false pre-conceived notions of her.

She also wishes Nebula’s preconceived notions didn’t bother her so much.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” Mantis asks, finally, just for something to say.

Nebula hesitates, then turns her gaze back to the window. “Sometimes I can’t sleep,” she says.

Mantis hesitates, too. She should leave it at that, she thinks. She should find the bathroom, which was the reason she got up in the first place, and then return to her room, where she’ll be safe from alternate midnight realities where Nebula laughs at her jokes and tells her things.

Instead, for some reason, Mantis says, “I miss her too, you know.”

Nebula whirls back to Mantis. “What?”

Mantis swallows. “I said, I miss Gamora, too.”

Nebula looks at Mantis for a long time, before finally, her gaze hardens. “It’s different for you.”

Why does everything have to be a competition with you? Mantis wants to ask.

“I know that,” Mantis says instead, forcing her voice to sound even. “But I’m just saying…I do miss her. We all do.”

“She isn’t dead,” Nebula says coldly. “There’s another version of her out there, alive and well.”

“But she’s not the same,” Mantis reminds her. “Our Gamora – she’s gone. And I’m just trying to say that we all lost her, too, and we all miss her. You aren’t alone in that. You don’t have to withdraw and refuse to speak or interact with any of us besides Rocket. You can…talk to us.”

Nebula glances at Mantis and holds her gaze for a moment.

“It’s fine,” Nebula says finally, looking back down at her mug. “I’m okay, most days. I had five years to get over it.”

“Yes, I’m sure most people who are over things have trouble falling asleep at night, too.” 

Nebula blinks at Mantis again, then shakes her head. “How do you deal with it, then?” She says. “If you’re such an expert.”

“Deal with what?”

“Gamora. Being non-existent for five years. Everything. Take your pick.”

Mantis rolls her eyes. “I’m not an expert,” she says irritably. “And…I don’t know. I just…focus on the positive.”

Nebula makes a face, as though this is both the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard and also a personal offense.

Mantis scowls. “Well? You asked, and that’s my answer. Yes, we’ve lost a lot, but we’ve gained a lot back, too. Everyone has. All those people who came back and got a second chance. And I don’t want to spend my second chance staring out the window and moping about who I’ve lost when I know they never would’ve wanted that for me.”

Nebula doesn’t say anything. She just stares at Mantis for a long time, long enough for Mantis to begin to think she spoke too harshly, that she was too insensitive, and just as she’s opening her mouth to apologize and take it back, Nebula says, “Hmm.”

Mantis blinks. “What?”

“Nothing,” Nebula says. Then she pauses. “You just…you look at the world a lot differently, you know.”

Mantis frowns. “I…do?”

“You look at the world and you see positivity and kindness. Things most people wouldn’t. Especially if they’d endured what you have.”

In ordinary circumstances, Mantis probably would’ve felt defensive upon hearing this. Would’ve felt that Nebula was being rude and invasive, and would’ve argued with her. But Nebula doesn’t say it like she’s accusing Mantis of anything. She doesn’t even sound judgmental, which is remarkable, given that’s Nebula’s default tone. No, Nebula just states it matter-of-factly, like whatever she’s saying is simply something that’s true. 

Especially if they’d endured what you have, Nebula said. It’s funny – Mantis doesn’t often think of what she’s been through as enduring. Not when she’s around so many who have lost so much. Peter, Gamora, Rocket, Drax, and Nebula: all of them have been through so much hurt. But so has Mantis. Ego prevented her from having her own life, from being her own person, from having anything that was hers, for most of her life.  And when she puts it like that – when Nebula puts it like that – Mantis realizes it was a life not unlike the one Nebula was forced into as a child, too.

“Is that a bad thing?” Mantis finally asks Nebula, a little hesitant. 

Nebula looks at Mantis for a long time. 

“No,” she decides finally. “It isn’t.”

four.

Mantis has decided that hosting a Christmas on Knowhere for Peter is the best idea she’s ever come up with.

Not that she’s one for coming up with ideas much. Actually, she usually leaves coming up with ideas to the others, not that it usually does the Guardians many favors. But since Gamora left, they’ve all been in a rut lately, especially Peter, and therefore, she truly believes this is the best idea she’s ever come up with.

“This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” Nebula says when Mantis tells her about it.

Mantis feels her face fall. “What?”

“I said – this is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”

Mantis scowls.

“Mantis, come on,” Nebula says. “You know nothing about Christmas. How are you going to recreate the holiday if you don’t even know what it means?”

“I know everything about Christmas, actually,” Mantis says haughtily. “Kraglin told me all of it.”

“Kraglin only knows what Yondu knew, who only knew because Quill told him about it when he was, like, seven. That’s barely anything.”

“Why do you have to be negative about everything?” Mantis demands. “I can’t believe Rocket was an easier sell than you.”

“Rocket probably only agreed to any of this because he knows it’ll end up as a disaster and he wants to see it all unfold,” Nebula says drily.

Mantis pauses. “Well, whatever,” she says eventually. “The point is – everyone’s on board except you. And maybe I don’t know anything about Christmas, and maybe it will be a disaster, but at least I’m doing something to make my friends feel better. Don’t we all deserve this, anyway? Just a day to be happy and be a family?”

Nebula blinks at her in surprise, and it's only then that Mantis realizes what she said - that she used the word family, and included Nebula in the sentiment. And truthfully, Mantis feels a little surprised at herself, too. She and Nebula still aren’t close; they argue constantly, and Nebula disagrees with Mantis on nearly everything, from Christmas surprises to mission strategies to what the team should eat for dinner. In fact, Nebula’s attitude toward Mantis has changed very little since they first met, though Nebula at least talks to her instead of ignoring her now. Even after all these years, Mantis is still almost completely convinced that Nebula hates her – maybe not all the time, but at least most of it. 

And yet – Nebula has been with the Guardians for a while now, and shows no signs of leaving. She stuck around when they were with Thor, she stuck around when they were hopping from planet to planet, and she's stuck around since they finally settled on Knowhere. She’s a real part of the team now, which means that whether Nebula likes it or not, she’s family.

And people who are family are required to participate in any and all of Mantis’ Christmas surprise ideas. No exceptions.

“Fine,” Nebula says at last. She won’t quite look at Mantis as she says it, but Mantis can’t help but notice that Nebula’s cold glare has softened somewhat. “It’s still a stupid idea, but fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Mantis says. “Because I already got Peter a present from Terra.” 

Nebula abruptly turns back to Mantis. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mantis says easily. “So you’re in?”

Nebula lets out a long, reluctant-sounding sigh. “What is it you need me to do, anyway?”

“All of that will be revealed,” Mantis says dramatically, and Nebula rolls her eyes. “But for now…”

She holds out a pin with a red flower on it that she and Drax got from the Christmas store on Terra. She isn’t sure what the flower is – she’s never seen anything like it on any of their travels – but it must have something to do with Christmas. She thinks the display at the store called it something that started with a P.

“You want me to dress up?” Nebula demands.

“It’s just a pin, Nebula,” Mantis says with an eye-roll.

Still, Mantis doesn’t think Nebula will take it. Rocket outright refused to dress up in anything when Mantis asked him, which is why Mantis is only suggesting the pin to Nebula, and not an entire wardrobe change. Start them off small, and all that.

But Nebula surprises Mantis by snatching the pin from her hand, even if she lets out an angry huff as she does it.

Mantis grins. “Thank you,” she says, and is surprised by how genuine she feels when she says it.

“Yeah, well,” Nebula grumbles, abruptly looking away from Mantis, and then she turns and walks away, fixing the pin to the front of her suit as she goes.

Mantis walks off too, ready to get things set up, and her smile stays on her face for a long time.

plus one.

It goes like this: they save Rocket, save the kids and the animals, escape the High Evolutionary’s ship with everyone in one piece, and then they split up.

It’s Gamora who leaves first, but it’s Peter who first actually announces his intentions of leaving, going back to Terra to see his grandfather and face what he’s been hiding from all these years. It’s sad, yes, but Mantis also feels indescribably proud of Peter, too. She feels even prouder when Peter turns to her with a smile, says Learn how to swim, both a callback to his conversation with Drax and an acknowledgment of where the advice really came from.

No one ever listens to me, Mantis has said or thought nearly a hundred times in the past few weeks; the past few years, even. It felt true all of those times. It still feels a little true. But maybe, people are beginning to start.

And it’s this sudden sense of pride, for Peter mostly, but partially for herself, that makes Mantis brave enough to announce she’s leaving, too.

She can practically feel everyone’s surprise as they turn to stare at her. And maybe it’s her imagination, but she thinks she feels it from Nebula the strongest.

But this is something she has to do. She needs to figure herself out, and she can only do that by herself. She needs the freedom to be her own person, for once in her life. Not just a member of a team.

There are a lot of emotions jumbling around in her heart as she heads off to her rooms to pack. Pride, still, for sure – for herself, for Rocket, the new captain of the Guardians, for everyone. Relief, that everyone made it out safe. Disappointment, that Gamora left without even saying goodbye, and an even deeper feeling of disappointment over being disappointed at all, when Mantis never should’ve expected anything different. Exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. And sadness, too – deep, heavy, and aching – over leaving this place, her home, her family, behind, even if it was her decision in the first place.

She’s thinking so deeply about all of it that she almost doesn’t hear the knock on her door. She turns, expecting Drax, or maybe Peter. 

It isn’t either of them. Instead, it’s Nebula.

Mantis blinks.

“Hi,” Nebula says after a pause.

“Hi,” Mantis says slowly, surprised. “What do you want?”

This time, it's Nebula who blinks, as if taken aback by the bitterness in Mantis’ voice. And, well, Mantis doesn’t mean to sound bitter, not necessarily. But she’s spent a good part of her day arguing with Nebula, listening to Nebula scream at her, having Nebula imply that Mantis is useless, so frankly, in this moment, Mantis doesn’t care that Nebula is family. Right now, Nebula is the last person Mantis wants to see.

Nebula swallows. The sound is audible.

“Mantis,” she starts.

“Look,” Mantis interrupts, busying herself with folding clothes into her pack. “If you came here just to scream or argue with me again, please don’t. I’m kind of the middle of something, in case you haven’t noticed, and I – ”

“Mantis,” Nebula interrupts again, sounding frustrated. “I’m not here to argue with you, I – damn it, Mantis, would you just look at me while I’m trying to apologize to you?”

Finally, Mantis stops, slowly turning to Nebula.

“You want to apologize?” Mantis asks.

Nebula scoffs. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

Mantis says nothing. She just raises her eyebrows.

Nebula shifts from foot to foot. It is one of the very few times that Mantis has actually seen her look uncomfortable.

“Look,” Nebula begins awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have – I was in the wrong. About you and Drax. What you did with the Abelisks…well, it saved our lives, and it’s something I never would’ve thought of. I never should’ve said the things I said, to either of you. And I just – before you left, I wanted you to know.”

Mantis looks at Nebula for a long, long time.

“So, what?” Mantis says finally. “You came to apologize just to ease your conscience before I leave forever?”

Nebula blinks again. “What?”

Mantis rolls her eyes, turning back to her pack. Her face feels hot, but not with anger. If anything, she almost feels embarrassed. Before you left, I wanted you to know, Nebula said. Because of course Nebula isn’t really sorry. Of course she’s only apologizing so things aren’t awkward whenever Mantis next comes around, so she doesn’t leave any stones unturned, so she can pat herself on the back and say she took care of things with Mantis, just to save herself any guilt. Of course she did.

“Mantis,” Nebula says. “What are you – ”

“Nebula, just stop it,” Mantis says, whirling around, and finally she says, “I know you hate me, alright?”

Nebula goes still.

“Mantis,” she says finally, in a strange tone of voice. “I don’t…I don’t hate you.”

Mantis can’t help it. She lets out a loud, incredulous laugh. “Yes. You do,” she says. “You’ve never made it a secret, not since the first time we met. I mean, you spent years avoiding and ignoring me.”

“Mantis,” Nebula starts.

“And now the only times you do speak to me are to argue with me or tell me I’m useless, so just don’t, alright? You don’t have to pretend to be sorry for saying things you knew you meant.”

“Mantis – ”

“And you know what? It doesn’t even matter. I’m leaving, remember? You’re finally getting what you wanted. You won’t have to deal with me anymore, so you can just take your apology and shove it up your – ” 

“Mantis!”

“What?” Mantis demands, whirling around, and then Nebula catches her by the hand, and Mantis goes still.

Almost immediately, Mantis recognizes the emotion she can feel through Nebula’s touch. She felt it that very first day she met Peter, Drax, and Gamora, on Ego's ship, when Peter asked her to demonstrate her powers, and she placed a hand on his forearm. She felt it several times over the years, any time she accidentally brushed against Gamora during team dinners as Gamora’s gaze was lingering on Peter’s across the table. She felt it every time she laid a comforting hand on Drax’s shoulder as he recalled a fond memory of his wife. She’s felt it countless times, with varying degrees, but she’s never felt it like this.

The love she feels from Nebula isn’t quite the same feeling she got from Peter or Drax or Gamora, not exactly. Their love had been something older, something more concrete. Nebula’s is newer, fresher – a reluctant kind of affection, more subtle than anything she’s ever felt, and certainly more fragile, but undeniably there all the same. The feeling is there, and the feeling is there for Mantis, and she can’t wrap her mind around it. As an empath, she’s spent so long feeling the weight of others' emotions. She’s never felt something that was meant just for her.

Nebula’s hand is curled around Mantis’ for no longer than a minute, but it feels like a lifetime before Nebula finally drops her hand, then glances away, staring at some spot over Mantis’ shoulder.

“I do not hate you,” Nebula says finally, her voice very, very quiet. 

Mantis swallows.

You do, Mantis wants to say. You have to. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But Nebula doesn’t hate her; the opposite, in fact. Mantis felt it herself. She wants to be angry, at first – because how was she to know? How could she have ever known, when Nebula never made her feelings remotely obvious?

But then she thinks back. She thinks about Nebula’s irritation over a measly cut on Mantis’ palm while she was sparring with Gamora; thinks about Nebula’s dry, sarcastic tone undercut with small confessions during late nights on the Benatar in the days after the Blip; thinks about Nebula arguing with her at every turn and yet bending to Mantis’ silly Christmas celebration requests regardless; thinks about how every moment Nebula has argued or yelled at her in the past few days has been a moment filled with tension, has been in dangerous moments where any of them could’ve nearly died, including Mantis.

All that time, Mantis had been so sure Nebula hated her. And all that time the truth had been right there. Hidden, sure, so tiny you’d have to squint to see it, but still there, and Mantis had never once guessed at Nebula’s true feelings. Ironic, for an empath. Instead, she’d just assumed. She’d let herself believe Nebula hated her for years, convinced herself so thoroughly that Mantis had begun to resent Nebula for it, too.

It’s only now that she wonders why she was ever so concerned about the idea of Nebula hating her in the first place.

“Oh,” Mantis says at last.

“Yeah,” Nebula mutters. She still will not look at Mantis. “Oh.”

“Wow,” Mantis says, for lack of anything better to say. And then, “You are terrible at expressing affection.”

Finally, Nebula’s eyes snap to Mantis’. “What?” She says, sounding surprised.

“Sorry, but – well, you are!” Mantis says. “You argue with me all the time, Nebula! What else was I supposed to think all these years?”

“Well, I don’t know!” Nebula snaps. “You’re the empath, remember?”

“Yes, an empath. Not a mind-reader.”

“Clearly.”

“Hey! Don’t get angry with me just because you can’t process your own emotions. If you’d just told me or given me a hint – ”

“Oh my God,” Nebula says irritably, shaking her head as she turns to go. “I don’t know why I even – ”

“Hey,” Mantis says again, snatching Nebula’s wrist before she can go. Nebula pauses, then turns slowly back around, staring down at Mantis’ hand. Mantis feels suddenly embarrassed, and is struck with the urge to drop her hand. She fights it, and says instead, “I am glad you told me.”

Nebula blinks. Her eyes move across Mantis’ face, as if she's trying to detect whether or not she’s lying. “You are?”

“I am,” Mantis says with a nod. Nebula’s eyes move across her face again, and they’re standing so close that Mantis feels like she can count the individual eyelashes on Nebula’s face, can feel Nebula’s breath against her skin.

Suddenly, Mantis’ room feels impossibly quiet. Even the faded sounds from outside seem to be far away. 

Mantis swallows, and then says, before she can lose her nerve, “Can I…?”

Her voice trails off without meaning to, distracted by the intensity of Nebula’s gaze.

“Can you what?” Nebula asks, sounding somewhat breathless.

Mantis doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes a step forward, closing the distance between them, and when Nebula doesn’t back away, she leans up and presses her mouth against Nebula’s.

It’s a quick kiss – chaste, just to satisfy Mantis’ curiosity, to see what kissing Nebula would really be like. But it’s long enough for Nebula to let out a quiet intake of breath, and then Nebula makes another noise, low in her throat, as though she's startled and maybe even a little pleased. 

Mantis finds the reaction surprisingly endearing.

When Mantis steps back, Nebula is still watching her, a stunned expression on her face. If Mantis’ ego were a tiny bit bigger, she might even say Nebula looked awestruck.

“Was that okay?” Mantis asks, just to check.

After a long moment, Nebula nods. “Yes,” she says. “That was okay.”

“Good,” Mantis says. She pauses. “You know…I’m still leaving.”

Nebula nods again. “I know.”

“And I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I know that, too.”

“Okay,” Mantis says. She pauses again. “But…when I do come back. Maybe…we could figure some things out.”

Nebula’s eyebrows raise. “Things?” She repeats.

“Yes,” Mantis agrees. “For starters: your methods of expressing affection.”

Nebula huffs, the corner of her mouth quirking up. Mantis thinks it’s the closest she’s heard to a laugh from Nebula.

“Okay,” Nebula says finally. She glances away. “I’d…like that.”

Mantis smiles. Her fingers curl around Nebula’s hand, which still rests in Mantis’. Nebula shows no signs of pulling away.

“Good,” Mantis says.