far and away | quill

seventeen

Whispers.

"I need you to not fuel his fire," she whispered as she closed the door and looked to Peter.

"He needs to be put in his place. He has to understand I'm the captain and this is my ship," he crossed his arms calmly.

"Peter, he's been through a lot. He's arrogant, that's how he is-"

"We've been through a lot too," his voice strained in his tight chest. "And everyone's arrogant," an eyebrow twitched once.

"That's not what I mean," she paused. "It is, but..."

"He's not an exception," his voice calmed. He calmed down. She watched him closely, every movement and every gesture. "I need you to set some boundaries here. He won't listen to me or my crew, he likes you. He'll listen."

She waited a moment.

"He's right though."

"About what?"

"We can't fix the Stone. You guys won't be able to," he saw her clearly as she spoke this horrific truth. Her sharp edges and jagged pieces disappeared. He saw her terror, her worry, he saw her. "We have eight days until everyone dies."

He stepped closer to her as she began to bite the inside of her cheek.

"And it's my fault, and there's nothing we can do."

"It's okay."

"But it's not," her tone made him stop. "It's not okay and it won't be. And saying 'it's okay' doesn't help."

His brow softened once more.

"What're we going to do?" The great captain was asking the criminal... ironic.

"We take it to someone who knows what they're doing," she stated.

"And who's that?"

"The Collector," she stripped her sweaty shirt and pulled on a long sleeve from his drawer.

He watched her carefully, "What ever happened to him?"

"Little-known tip, Quill," she approached him and they gazed at each other over their shoulders. The way the moon and the sun must have once.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answers to."