far and away | quill

fourteen

Land.

"We're going to need the Stone from you," Peter said numbly. She looked up at him. Everyone else was outside, including Stephen.

The two were alone.

She had stripped her bunk from all her things. She stuffed it all into a bag and pulled her cloak, with all its goodies, on.

But now she had been talking to him about the final things to be done.

"You won't be able to do it without us," she stated and moved her cloak aside to grab the shards.

"Then leave without Stephen."

"It's both or none," she stated. "I'm not losing him again."

"I chose none," he spoke dismissively and took the red, jagged pieces from her. He tucked them in a pocket of his pants. It amazed her he wasn't fazed at all by their little episode.

"If you decide you love Gamora," she pulled the bag on and proceeded towards the ramp. "Fight for her. If not, set her free," she concluded and stepped onto the concrete of Huron.

"Goodbye Peter Quill."

"Goodbye Quinn Grey," he called behind her. She shielded her eyes from the sun.

Rocket, Groot, and Gamora stood and watched Stephen. They moved their eyes to Quinn as she came into view. She looked at the crew briefly.

"I'm sorry," she stated wholeheartedly. Gamora rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you thought I was," she looked at Rocket.

"I'm sorry you didn't understand what I was," she looked at Groot.

"And I'm sorry you knew exactly who I am," her eyes rested on Gamora who stared at her, deep in the eye. She simply crossed her arms with an unreadable expression and emotion.

She looked at Stephen.

"Let's go," she said calmly. He nodded and wrapped an arm around her. She rested a hand on his right shoulder blade and they walked towards the mercenary bar.

When they got there, she looked back and the ship was gone. She smiled sadly.

"I hope they can fix it in time," she spoke and looked at her friend. He looked at the vacant area and back to her.

"It'll be hard to fix the Stone without it."

"What?" she snapped out of her nostalgic daze. She looked up at him wildly.

"I gave you a fake," he smiled. She pressed two fingers to her head as it began pulsing under them.

"Stephen, you," she started with irritability. He was still smiling, he'd done right by doing wrong. "Come on."

She took his large, gloved hand and dragged him inside the bar. The door closed behind them. She looked around to see sparse people, all of whom she recognized. They recognized her too.

"Quinn!" they cheered. Poison sank into her stomach; his opinion of her must be dropping in a free fall as every second passed.

"Hey guys," she mumbled briefly and eyed the bar. He wasn't there.

She continued to pull Stephen towards the backrooms. She ducked through a curtain to find James in his room, shirtless.

He wasn't facing them, and with the bar noise, he hadn't heard them. She looked at the familiar scars on his back, forgetting the task at hand.

"James," she choked out. He turned, mid shirt-pull, and saw her. He pulled the shirt down the rest of the way and went to her.

Her hand dropped from Stephen's.

James wrapped his muscular arms around her, put his head over her scrawny shoulder, and nestled his stubbly beard into her neck.

"We need your help-"

"I missed you. Yes, of course, what is it?" he pulled away urgently.

"We have one of the Infinity Stones and it's broken and we need to fix it or else the galaxy will implode..."

"Oh, I don't know if I-"

"You're all we've got. Authorities will be here when they notice it's missing and they won't have the patience or understanding. Stephen's a doctor; if you work together maybe..."

"It's worth a shot," he stated. "James Keller," he introduced himself, sticking a hand out to Stephen.

He waited a moment, examining the array of scar tissue as well as the jumbled mess of an arm tattoo. He took his hand, "Doctor Stephen Strange."

•••

James took them upstairs and cleaned off the kitchen table. Stephen set out the actual Stone and began explaining the knowledge he had acquired of its powers.

She found the first aid kit on the highest shelf and unwrapped her hands, infection began to set in.

She cleaned it up and bit a rag as she poured alcohol on the cuts. She sewed sloppily into her hands, hoping to do well enough on herself.

James looked up during a lull in conversation. He went to her as she struggled silently.

"Here," he offered. She handed him the bloody needle. "How're the voices?"

He wiped the needle on his shirt and started again on the left hand.

"Better. I'm controlling them better, and can filter them out, turn them off."

"That's good," he stated and bandaged the left hand. He started on the right.

"How's the bar?"

"Okay. We had to clean up a ton of glass and breaks, but it's good. Everyone's bringing in their quotas," he tied off the right and bandaged it.

"I'm glad," she stated. "Could you take a look at my stomach?"

She raised the hem only enough to reveal the gash left by the hound. Stephen had been watching and butted in, "It's skin deep."

He walked over and began poking surrounding tissue, none of which hurt. "No infection, no need for stitches either. We'll wrap it and it should be better in a week or two."

"If we make it that long."

"We will."