Lines | Guardians of the Galaxy |

Chapter Twenty-One

The days after that passed slowly and yet quickly at the same time. Most of them were spent with her eating very limited amounts and spending most of her time below deck in her corner where she worked endlessly, but tiredly. She wasn't sleeping much, spending almost all of her time working on the laptop. She'd made a few useful Programs and was working out the bugs, multitasking, her brain constantly whirring as she thought.

Even her dreams had been infected with coming up with scripts, although many of them were just buggy and warped; their intent had been good, which gave her some ideas, but they were badly made and ugly. No matter how had she tried, she couldn't fix them, which just caused her to stress in both her waking world and her dreaming one.

She refused to talk to people more than necessary, snapping at Drax when he tried to talk to her about her screwed up sleep schedule. She needed to work, to keep her hands busy, or else she just felt off, itchy. She needed to do this, to make all the things that needed to be made, to find solutions for all the problems that needed to be handled. She was fully aware that it wasn't heathy, but she didn't really care.

She spent her time experimenting and thinking through her constantly exhausted brain, building multiple useful tools.

The crew let her work after she explained to Quill some of what she was doing, and he couldn't deny that it wasn't useful, so he let her continue and told the rest to give her some space, which she appreciated.

The team went on one mission without her, but the other two she came on. One was to destroy a bear-like creature on some planet whose hide was ridiculously thick. She had wanted to come, but Quill insisted that she stay here and keep working because it was 'important.' Yes, it was important to her, but he didn't know to what extent. The real reason—she'd been able to understand this immediately—was because she was weight they would have to carry. She wouldn't be able to help very much.

Either way, she was working herself to death now that she had that option.

...

Avenna woke to her stomach snarling furiously, demanding that it be given food. She groaned and sat up, pressing one hand to her skull, which was pounding behind her eyes and at the back of her neck. The fox stretched, using a method she'd once seen a cat perform on a visit to Terra—arched back, extended legs.

"Look who's finally awake."

She twisted in her bed and fixed her gaze upon Gamora, who was messing around with her belt.

"It's nearly nine Kyln time," she noted.

"WHAT!?"

She received a nod and she groaned again.

"I could have done so much work if I'd woken up earlier," she complained.

Gamora stood up, wrapping her belt around her waist and hooking her extendable knives onto it. "It's still rather early for you. Don't beat yourself up about it."

The tone in which she said it was shockingly different compared to the one she might have previously used before their trip to Ransev. It wasn't snappy or angry anymore. What had changed about her view towards the fox, Avenna had no idea, but she wasn't complaining.

She climbed out of bed and pulled the trunk under the left side of the bed out to get her clothes. "I can run on less sleep," she claimed.

"You have an intelligent, truly sentient and self-aware mind. Somehow I doubt that you need less sleep to run properly." Gamora paused, then continued. "I have no idea how much wild foxes need but hey, if you slept until this... 'late,' you obviously needed that rest."