far and away | quill

twenty-two

Slow-motion.

It was all slow; a long, dragged out saga. William Wallace would be proud.

The Collector had arrived in Peter's ship. He stepped onto the black marble of the hangar and approached, Aether above hand.

"This is your only chance, hand over the Aether," Ronan called out.

"No."

Gunfire. The Aether absorbed the first round, before returning to him. It then began to twist everything.

It was a slow kaleidoscope, simply put. Everything warped, truly psychedelic.

She had to focus, her head was a jumble. She placed her eyes on the stone. She made her way to face the Collector. Everything seemed to fade away.

It was him and her in the vast mess of everything.

"I'm amazed. You used to be such a wreck. You never really could control your gift," he spoke calmly despite his evident defeat.

"Irrelevant. Now I have control," she raised a hand. The Aether came back to her. She placed her hand down by her cloaked side. The Aether was an eternal river around her body, never touching her frame.

"What is to come will be greater than you can ever imagine," he explained. "There's a war brewing, my dear."

"There's always been a war brewing. It's just bubbling over the pot now," she was calm. "We'll be ready."

"My dear, please do one of two things. Kill me fast, kill me now. Or, set me free. You will have me on call whenever you need me. Give me my daughter back."

"I want you to know how easy it would be for me to kill you; wipe you out, erase your existence. I could raise your daughter, or Ronan could. She'd never have to live beneath a shadow or with a toxic influence. But I won't. I will let you go, I will grant your freedom. But on my terms."

"Shoot," he paused. He cleared it up, "The terms, not the gun."

"I will fire my gun at the sky and you will fall, faking your death. You will be taken, personally by us, to your planet. I will see to your 'burial', you will have two hours to leave orbit. You will never talk to your daughter, any of us, any of the nobility. You will leave and never come back. If I need you, I will send my guys out. You will help without question, and leave again. No one will know you are alive. Got it?"

He nodded.

"Thank you, Quinn."

"Don't thank me now."

She raised her gun and fired, the Aether winced. Suddenly, they were back on the black marble of the hangar floor. He crumpled to the ground.

"Quinn?" James echoed behind her in amazement. His voice was raw, his face stoic when she faced the crew.

"Get him on the ship, we take off in two minutes," she commanded. The crew boarded, all but Peter, Stephen, and James.

"The girl, you promised her."

"I've made a lot of empty promises, Stephen," she moved passed them and towards the king. "King Ronan, you will see to the Dreamer's healing and raising?"

"Of course."

"Do me a favor and tell her a soldier went rogue and killed him," she asked.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Quinn. Should you ever need anything.."

"Thank you, Ronan. I'll remember that," she smiled tightly and moved to the ship.

"You didn't have to kill him," James matched pace.

"I know."

"We could've taken him to the corps."

She stopped.

"You know, just as well as I do, that the corps let them out within ten years. They get back on the street and take lives."

"It's not your call. You need to stop this."

"It was never a problem before."

"That was when you were being able to eat and live from it."

"So?"

"So if you're killing people for your own vendettas," he paused. "You're no better than the bad guys. Killing a killer doesn't lessen the amount of them."

"Maybe not, but it lessens the amount of innocent casualties."

She stormed into the plane.

"Quinn," Peter called.

"Not in the mood, Quill," she hissed. She went to the back, pulling out a random clean shirt and changing. Peter, being Peter, followed. He entered the room.

"You're not a bad person."

"I didn't think so either."

"He had to be extinguished."

"I know," she tossed the old shirt into a bin. The Aether solidified on a dresser top.

"Then why do you feel guilty?"

"I don't. I'm just," he blocked her way out with his body. She finally looked into his experienced eyes. "Tired."

"Sleep."

"My body's not tired; my soul is. I've been through too much. I need rest, I need a break."

"From?"

"Killing, befriending, circuiting. Everything's so exhausting."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Home."

"Huron?" he asked softly. She needed a seven-year nap at this point. She needed a bath and some pizza. She needed a hug.

"Earth."

"Earth it is, then," he smiled kindly.

"Peter?" she caught his attention again. She gripped his neck and hugged him. "You're the one thing I never get tired of. I just want you to know that."

"You too, Quinn."

"And Peter?" she pulled away. "The Collector told me something, before I killed him," she lied about it, even to Peter. She had to. It was her deal.

"He said a war is brewing. You know that, right? It's coming up on us, coming quick."

"I know. It's going to shatter everyone, it'll be our job to keep them together."

She nodded.

"To Earth?"

"To Earth."