#when Yondu almost blows up the whole elector

[sunllghtt]

I've been thinking about how gotg is also about doing the right thing despite not knowing how

I don't like cbm. It's just not really the genre for me 96% of the time and gotg is an intruder in my house. I think what makes it stand out for me (besides the extremely indivisible and well structured found family and the weirdness and creativity and the genuine love you can feel through the story and the artists who made it etc etc) is the fact it's not supposed to be heroic. Mostly they never want to actually save the galaxy or anyone but their own asses and their friends' because they're selfish and real and also it's their love for each other that makes them want to be better than the twisted galaxy they live in. They want to make a better home for their family and end up saving others as a side effect. I really really really like that.

Things rarely work out for them, and when they do it's always a close call. And it's ugly. It's not majestic and admirable, it's usually bloody and dirty and messy. Even when Quill wants to think of himself as a caring and smart leader that always gets things right at the very first attempt (which I think really suits his character because it masks how insecure and traumatized he is by losing people constantly without being able to do anything to stop it), they're still not this oh so imponent team of professional serious mighty heroes who know what they're doing. All their plans are improvised and just as flawed as they are and they don't always work at all.

Sometimes you're gonna fail and have to do things again. Sometimes the image you have of it in your mind will make you so frustrated when you actually do the thing you'll never want to do it again. Sometimes it'll get out of your control and it won't be pretty and you won't like it and you can't change that. Sometimes you'll know you could've done better or regret doing it. And even then you'll still make it either way. Even if it's bad. If it's ugly. If it's messy. We'll get out of things one way or another as we always have and we are here now because we have done it before. Hope can be ugly and dirty too without losing effect

[occasionalfics]

Cross the Stars, part XVII

part xvi

A/N: THIS IS IT! I managed to fit the last few sections all in one part, so this is the finale! I hoped you liked it, or at least gave it a chance :) 

Summary: Just when Freedom is at her fingertips...

Words: 3,856

~~~

The President collects them on the day the disguises are ready. She comes to the penthouse, escorts the three of them to the ground floor, and shows them to an even larger hovercraft than the one she had brought Peter and Indriza in a few days before. They all get in and watch the city pass as they head to the Elector’s dock.

When they arrive and disembark, they see that the crew is all there, including Kraglin at the front, waiting for the captain. “Your crew were well taken care off, Captain Udonta,” the President says.

Indriza notes that that is the first time she has referred to him as such.

“I’m sure they were,” he responds.

Kraglin looks excited, though Indriza doesn’t know if that’s because he hasn’t seen Yondu in a few days, or if he has too many stories to tell.

“Your disguises have been brought onto the ship already. Isn’t that right, Kraglin?” the President asks.

The Xandarian child nods too fast, his smile huge. “Yessir,” he says.

“Good,” Yondu says. He turns to the President and bows. “Thankya so much fer yer hospitality, Madam President,” he says.

She nods and bows as well. “It was our pleasure,” she says, staring at Indriza rather than Yondu.

When they stand, Yondu leads the way to the crew. The file into the Elector a few at a time, with Yondu, Indriza, and Peter at the back. The march is slow, the heat is almost unbearable, and she is impatient. She just wants to be out of this section of the galaxy - forever. She wants to go somewhere else warm, but with a beach and tropical drinks. Maybe that planet she and Yondu went to that party on. She wants to go somewhere she and Yondu can be alone together for a bit, where she can take time to grieve Allura and learn to be happy again.

And then she hears the President say, “What is that?”

Indriza turns and follows the President’s gaze. The atmosphere far off ripples, and in seconds, the silhouette of a familiar ship comes into view.

Indriza’s heart stops. Her eyes widen. She hears the screaming, sees the shadows crawling - one is missing, because it’s on that ship.

She turns back to Yondu and Kraglin and says, “Get Peter on the ship. Now. Keep him safe.” She heads out into the field and watches as the Axion II moves into the docking area.

“That’s not…” she hears Yondu say from beside her.

“It is,” she responds.

“What is it?” the President says.

“My sister,” Indriza answers, still glaring at the ship as it nears. Her mother is coming for her, and so is her brother and her father. But she does not fear them now. It is sunny and they are weakened by the light. But Omara is real, and is unaffected.

The ship docks. The door opens. Omara steps out, dragging a body behind her. Indriza feels her fingers go cold. She can’t look away.

“Is Peter gone?” she asks. In the corner of her vision, she sees Yondu look over at his own ship.

“Yes,” he says.

Good, she thinks. At least he will be spared this time.

Indriza takes a painful step forward. Then another. Then more. She meets Omara in the field between the docks. Her sister is covered in dried blood, and Indriza can smell her from their distance. She’s dragging Allura behind her, but the Skrull is moaning.

Indriza sighs. She’s not dead, she thinks. Thank the stars.

Omara is breathing heavily. Her hair is matted against her face. Her cheeks are sallow, her skin pale. She is terrifying, but not in the intimidatingly beautiful way she had been. She looks like a dead woman walking. Indriza wonders if the shadows visit her, too, and if they’ve taken this toll on her sister. Omara cackles to herself.

“Here’s your precious little right hand,” she says, tossing Allura across the grass.

And there she is: Allura, bruised, swollen as she had been the day before, but barely breathing. Indriza wants to save her, to run away and finally see her dreams come true. But she can’t. If she leaves, Omara will follow her. Peter won’t be safe. Neither will Allura or Yondu. If Omara has any wits about her, she will report them to Stakar Ogord the second they leave.

“What happened to you?” Indriza asks.

Omara cackles again. “You have got to be kidding me! How do you even dare to ask such a question, Traitor?”

“I did not do this to you, Omara. I did what I had to do.”

Another cackle. “What you had to do? For who?! For that Centaurian exile?” She spits.

“Someone had to save innocent lives. That’s what we set out to do, if you remember.”

“No,” Omara growls. “That’s what you set out to do. I set out to keep my family together the only way I knew how, Traitor! I had to steal, lie, cheat, and murder for you! And you repay me by leaving, when we could’ve earned more units than we’d ever even seen! For him!”

Omara points, and Indriza remembers then that Yondu is next to her.

“You’ve ruined everything, Centaurian Prick!” Omara shouts. “This,” she points to Allura’s body, “is your fault. You’ll go to the stars with that wreck’s life on your hands.”

“No Omara,” Indriza says. “You hurt her. You tortured her. This is on you, and all because you have no compassion.”

“No compassion? Ha! I could’ve killed you for your little slip up on Ubraa-10! You put the crew and the mission in danger with your gamble over him,” she says, nodding at Yondu. “You’re lucky I let you live and continue to disappoint me.”

“Watch your mouth, Omara,” Indriza warns. She’s the older sister. At some point, Omara had to submit to her.

But that is not true now. Omara laughs so loudly, Indriza swears she feels the ground tremble.

“You wouldn’t hurt me if I had a loaded blaster pointed at your head,” Omara says. “Or if I had a loaded blaster pointed at his head.”

“What’d’ya want, Ombato?” Yondu calls, impatience lining his words.

“You. Dead. Your stupid fucking fin mounted on my bedroom wall, your Yakka arrow split in two. The end of the Centaurians.”

“I ain’t the last Centaurian, girly,” he says. “We ain’t as rare as you Axion.”

“You know nothing,” she says.

“You can’t kill either of us, Omara. We’re worth money,” Indriza says.

“I don’t give a Krylorian’s ass about the money. I care about ending the lives of the traitors who ruined mine.”

“No one ruined your life but yourself. You let your anger get to you-”

“Stop telling me how I feel, Indriza! You’re not my mother - you’re not even my sister! You ran away - for an exile - and you alone caused the downfall of the Axion II. And you’ll pay for it.”

Omara draws her gun, but just as quickly, Yondu whistles and his arrow flies.

“No!” Indriza yells.

The arrow stops just short of Omara’s heart.

“What’re you waiting for, Scum? End it!” Omara yells. “Or I will!”

“Don’t,” Indriza says, grasping his arm. “She’s my sister.”

“She’s fuckin’ crazy, Driza. She wants ta kill us.”

“She won’t.” She thinks: I hope.

“Watch me,” Omara says, pulling the trigger.

A blast of light, faster than Yondu’s whistle, is released from the gun. It moves across the space between them. Indriza has enough time to turn her face to it, open her eyes wide, and let go of Yondu’s arm before the light hits her chest, sending her flying back toward the Elector.

She doesn’t feel the ground as she slams into it. She doesn’t feel anything. The sun is gone, and so are Yondu and Allura. She doesn’t hear him scream, doesn’t feel his hands on her or his body heat up as his anger builds. She doesn’t feel the tears that fall from his eyes, even as they run down her face, or hear Omara laugh maniacally as Krylorian officers arrest her. Indriza doesn’t see her sister kick and scream and cackle as they take her away. She doesn’t feel the breeze in the grass as it blows past her body and Allura’s. She doesn’t feel Yondy put his face to her chest, the very spot where the light hit her, and cry. She doesn’t see Allura groan, turn over, and try to pick herself up. Or Kraglin, as he leaves the Elector and rushes to Yondu. Her Centaurian pushes his second away; Kraglin takes a step back, then tends to Allura, but Indriza sees and hears none of it.

She is gone. The shadows have receded. The running is over for her. But Yondu…

 ***

 He instructs the men to keep Peter in his room until further notice. He enlists Kraglin to help him with the bodies - his beautiful, soft, affectionate, strong and strong willed Indriza and her companion, whom he never knew - the poor thing looks like a hoard of space bees had gotten to her. He and Kraglin bring them to his bedroom. He has nowhere else for them, for the time being.

For too long, he sits with them. Silently. Watching. He tells Kraglin to fetch a medic before they leave Krylor, and even promotes the teen to Interim Captain so he can sit with them.

She is gone. Her purple skin is just as gorgeous and scarred as the first day he laid eyes on her, but she is lifeless. She won’t wake him in the middle of the night with screams and tossing anymore. She won’t tell him she loves him again, won’t kiss him, won’t make him feel better than anything else in the whole galaxy ever has.

The pink medic patches up Allura and gives instructions for her safe keeping to Kraglin. Yondu isn’t listening. He hears their voices in mumbles and gibberish because her voice is not filling the void.

This is all his fault. Her sister was right, after all. He thinks of the night he slashed Indriza’s cheek - on accident...mostly - as he brushes the faded scar. She had been so intoxicated, and he’d just meant to help her. But she had lashed out at him, and his instinct was to call his arrow. He thinks of Knowhere - their dance, the first time his hands got to explore her body. She’d been drunk then, too, but just enough to enjoy herself without blacking out. And she was so beautiful in that dress, so confident in her body but insecure in her choices. He thinks of Contraxia - both times. She saved him from making bad mistakes, even minor ones. Her kisses felt like life itself, like he had something so fantastic that he’d be the biggest fool in the galaxy to let go of it.

And he is - if only he’d let the arrow go. Omara would be dead and Indriza would be angry, but she would recover. She would be his, and Allura’s. They would wear their disguises and continue to live their lives together, with the addition of her second.

He bends over, head between his knees, as he thinks of the second time she’d found him at the Iron Lotus. That was when she’d run away to him, to save him. He felt like she was his home that night, and every night after that. Even when he’d insulted her, and she had almost mortally wounded three of his men, she was still home. She was stubborn and tough, compassionate and wonderful. And she is gone.

***

 Kraglin brings him and Allura breakfast the next day, but he doesn’t eat. Neither does she. The second is quiet and still, but breathing all the while. Yondu tells Kraglin to ready a funeral pyre.

“Should I notify Cap’n Ogord, too?” he asks.

Yondu shakes his head, and after a second he says, “I will. Thanks, boy.”

When Kraglin leaves, he goes to the comm pad and attempts to send Stakar a signal. He’s surprised when he sees his old mentor’s face on the hologram.

“I don’t have time for traitors with bounties-” he tries to say, but Yondu cuts him off.

“Omara Ombato’s slain her sister, Stakar.”

There’s a pause, and then: “What is it to me?”

“She deserves a funeral,” Yondu says. “She did nothin’ wrong.”

“I won’t,” Stakar says. “She betrayed the United.”

“Please, Stakar. She never broke the code. Did nothin’ wrong, ‘cept love me.”

Maybe it’s nostalgia, maybe pity, or maybe it’s the crack in Yondu’s voice, but Stakar considers what he’s heard. Yondu takes advantage of that, though he doesn’t see or hear Allura sit up behind him, in plain view of Ogord.

“Indriza Ombato was the greatest ravager I ever worked with, ‘sides you. She risked e’erything to save me ‘cause she thought I was worth savin’. I ain’t sayin’ she’s right or wrong, but she did a hellofa lot more than her sister.” He looks over his shoulder briefly, then back. “And Allura...I don’ even know her. Driza loved ‘her, though, an’ Omara nearly killed her, too.”

Stakar nods. “Did the she tell you I found her like I found you?”

Indriza he thinks. “She did,” Yondu says. “‘S why I called you. I don’ want this funeral for me. I want it for her.”

Stakar Ogord sighs. “Very well, Udonta. Send me your coordinates. We’ll have a ravager funeral for the fallen Axion II Captain.”

Yondu nods. As soon as the call ends, he takes a deep breath. Captain Indriza Ombato he thinks. Stakar called her Captain. He nods once, turns, and sees Allura awake, sitting up, but still looking like hell broke loose on her. “How’re ya feelin?” he asks quietly.

She groans, but makes no other answer. He nods. She has to be in a lot of pain, he figures. He gets up from the comm pad and does as he was told. He looks at Indriza’s still body and sighs.

He goes to his bathroom, wets a cloth with warm water, and uses it to clean off her body. He wipes away the blood on Indriza’s face and chest. He closes her eyes, to which Allura winces, zips up her jacket, and stands back and salutes her bodies with three pounds to the left side of his chest, biting his lip all the while.

The crew gets the funeral ready. Yondu leaves Kraglin to guard the women. He heads across the ship when a comm comes into his mini pad. It only says: FUNERAL 200 CLICKS PAST KRYLOR TO HONOR AXION II CAPTAIN, INDRIZA OMBATO. ARMISTICE WILL BE OBSERVED.

His heart sinks at half of the words, but lifts at the other half. At least this funeral will be peaceful. His next conversation will not be.

He goes to Peter’s room, doesn’t knock, but doesn’t need to. The second he’s inside the room, Peter stands. His face is curious, attentive, worried.

“Where’s Indriza?” he asks.

Yondu looks at the ground, unable to say the words that need to be said.

“Yondu,” Peter says. “Where is she?”

The Captain shakes his head, but still says nothing. He feels another tear fall from his face, but only allows that one. He’d never admit it, but his heart breaks even more with Peter’s next words.

“No,” Peter says quietly. “No. She’s alive. She had a talk with her sister and now she’s back. Tell me she’s back, Yondu!”

Yondu looks at Peter again and feels his throat close up. The kid’s lost both’a his moms in two years he thinks.

“No!” Peter says, throwing his hands out. “No. No. No. No.”

Yondu goes to him, pulls him into a hug for what feels like the first time, and holds him while Peter struggles to get loose.

“No no no no no! She’s not gone! She can’t be gone, Yondu!”

“She is, Peter. I’m sorry,” Yondu whispers.

Peter pushes in protest, but gets nowhere. After a few minutes of this, he relaxes and lets Yondu hold him. He doesn’t know it yet, but this is the last time they will hug for almost 30 years.

Yondu wipes his own eyes before guiding Peter to the bridge, calling for his men to carry the bodies behind them. He doesn’t stop Peter from crying, and neither does the crew. They may not have respected Indriza all the time or even understood her place on the ship, but they are all sullen now. They know, at least, what she’d meant to Yondu. They respect their captain’s feelings, especially since he had never put the crew in danger or lost anything because of her. Plus, she’d been another ravager, and so had Allura, who is being carried by Tulk. A ravager funeral is an event for them to put their differences aside and pay respects to the other factions.

The mechanical pyre is waiting for them. Kraglin stands by the pyre, his eyes red and wide with irritation. He nods to the captain when they approach, and together they stare out of the bay window, Tulk and Allura beside them.

“They came,” Kraglin says.

Yondu nods, taking in the sight of at least thirty other ships sitting stoic within a mile of the Elector. Stakar Ogord’s ship sits just to the right of the Elector, and Yondu closes his eyes. He’s grateful they came, and not even for himself. It would be wrong to have a funeral for Indriza without the other factions. Through and through, she was loyal to them, despite choosing him.

Too soon, they put Indriza’s body into the pyre. It hurts him more than he can say to see her so lifeless, so passionless. When the pyre is closed, he shuts his eyes and imagines her the way he wants to remember her. Smiling. Ecstatic. Naked, euphoric, and beautiful. Brutal at times, but real and honest nonetheless.

Peter is beside Yondu as he gives his eulogy. “Indriza came ta us to save me. Y’all know ‘bout the bounty - she an’ Allura here the reason we knew ‘bout it.” He points to the weakened, crying, bruised Skrull woman in Tulk’s arms. “Driza proved herself to be loyal, carin’, passionate, ‘n smart. All good things in a ravager Captain. Great things, actually. The best.” He puts his hand on the pyre as she starts to burn. “The best. We’ll honor her memory ‘til the end a our days. May she return to the stars.”

Peter shivers as her body glows, turns black, and flows out into deep space. Yondu shivers when he thinks that she is gone. Really gone. Physically gone. Just a memory. Allura weeps loudly, and no one stops her.

He turns himself and Peter to the window and watches as purple fireworks light up the space between the ships. He notices that the Axion II is conveniently missing, and is glad it is. He’ll get his revenge one day, but right now, he watches as Indriza’s dust flows between the fireworks, going further into deep space than he can see.

She’s free. Finally, he thinks.

 ***

 After the funeral, Stakar Ogord sends a comm to all 99 factions of ravagers to let them know he is revoking his bounty on Yondu. He doesn’t give a reason, but most know it’s because the Centaurian captain has lost so much already. He carries Indriza with him everywhere.

He is still an exile, though. Ogord makes it clear that nothing will change that, maybe ever. Yondu lives with this proclamation, as does Allura for a time. She stays with Yondu, grieves with him, even. They remember they woman they loved together, heal together over time, and eventually part amicably. Stakar Ogord is the one that reaches out to her and offers her a place in his own faction, knowing what she has lost and that she did not necessarily chose to be an Elector crew member.

Yondu lives with his sentence even as he loses Peter Quill later. He’s prepared for that loss, though, since he closed himself from the Terran after letting Indriza go. Twenty-four years after Indriza’s death, Yondu looks back on his life with Peter and realizes how terrible he’s been. She had kept him compassionate, had held Peter in higher esteem than he had ever shown for Peter, regardless of his real feelings. Without Indriza, Yondu hardened and kept to himself. He ravaged, he ran, he barked orders, threatened to eat Peter, never told him how proud he was to be his dad, and never once told him the whole truth of his father.

He never found Omara, either. Yondu imagines that she passed not long after Indriza, or perhaps rotted in a Krylorian prison cell. That’s what she deserved, as far as he is concerned. Kinslayer, insane, and betrayed - that was how he will remember her.

On the anniversary of her death each year, he goes back to Krylor. The grass is no longer stained with her blood, and yet, he remembers just where it happened. The rest of the crew go to a bar, but Yondu finds the spot where she spoke her last words to him, sits, and stares at the sky until he falls asleep.

This year, Kraglin goes with him. And Yondu actually allows him to. They are no longer just Captaina and Second. Yondu is not as tender with the Xandarian as he was with Indriza, but he does love Kraglin all the same. For the first time in too long, he’s allowed someone into his heart, into his pain, and maybe that’s why this year’s visit to Krylor isn’t so bitter.

“Ya think Peter’d still be with us if she were?” Kraglin asks, his voice scratchy from wear and emotion.

Yondu stares at the stars. “Without a doubt,” he says. “You ‘member her. She was the best parta me. Said things to that kid I couldn’t.” Yondu often imagines - even dreams - of himself, Kraglin, and Indriza as a comprehensive unit, the way he knew she wanted Allura to be with them. Only now, his dreams are entirely impossible.

Kraglin nods. “You were a different person with her ‘round, Cap’n.”

There’s a silence between them for a while. They lay back in the grass together, side by side, enjoying the touch of another being. The stars from Krylor are bright, close, and illuminating. Yondu whistles mindlessly for a bit, his arrow taking flight with no target. It leaves its trail around them, but both he and it stop short when he sees one star, behind another, shine brighter for a split second.

“What is it, Cap’n?” Kraglin asks.

The star burns hot, seems to shiver in place, and he swears for a second it turns purple.

“Nothin’,” Yondu says. “I jus’ get the feelin’ she’s watchin’ us.”

“You’ve been sayin’ that for twenty years.”

Yondu smiles at Kraglin. “‘S how long she’s been with us. Longer, even. Just takes’er a while to find us, is all.”