Peter ran his thumb over the little bit of hair left on the troll doll. The silly toy had been a game between him and Yondu for years, ever since he'd found it during a job and had switched out his captains yaka arrow with it. The ravager threatened to finally eat him when it happened, but within a week Peter found the little doll in the place he'd left his Walkman. Since then it's had been a competition to see who could sneak around the other. Yondu always claimed it was great training, but Peter knew better, even if he hadn't acknowledged it before now. To find it among Yondu's things when they went to prepare him for his burial had caused a stab of emotional agony he hadn't been expecting. Then just before they sent him into the incinerator Peter had pocketed the toy, unable to lose everything from his dad. Because that was who Yondu had been. He'd certainly done a better job of it than his grandfather, or his own biological father turned out to have tried to do.
Turning before he shut his door he noticed Gamora watching him with a little frown. Catching his eye she gave a little smile and nod, she would be around when he was ready, or drunk enough, to talk about everything. He nodded back, but couldn't bring himself to smile. But he knew she'd understand. He closed the door and once he was alone his face fell and deep lines from stress appeared around his eyes and mouth. In the space of a few days he'd found his father and lost his dad, and more than anything he was bone tired and numb.
He reverently placed the doll on the shelf next to his bed and let himself drop onto the padded liner with a heavy sigh. Of course his real father had to be the one massively powerful sentient planet in the entire galaxy. His mouth twisted when he thought about what Ego had done to his mother, just because he didn't feel like he could withstand the temptation of having her alive. Thinking about all the things his mother had told him about his father made him want to revive the arrogant god and kill him all over again. Meredith had been one of the most loving persons in the world, and she died because some hunk of rock with a superiority complex didn't want her messing up his plans.
Peter took a few deep breaths and rolled onto his side before he started yelling or punching the walls. Yeah that would go over well with the rest of his dysfunctional family, patching his up because he broke his hand in a temper tantrum.
Thinking about his time the last few days on Ego Peter held his hand out in front his face. He could still remember the thrill of holding pure energy in his hands. It had felt electrifying in a way he couldn't describe, yet so very right. That brief game of catch had made his feel like he'd had fifteen Ergon energy shots. He'd been giddy and riding high that whole night. Gamora had probably thought he'd been drinking again. He hated to admit it, but even not knowing what he could do most of his life, he hated the empty feeling it had left once Ego had died. Even if he'd had a jet pack he doubted he'd have been able to get off the planet without Yondu's help. The sudden severing how part of his soul had left him dazed and broken. The loss of his dad so soon after had helped him snap out of it, but now that the funeral was done he was finding that he just couldn't help but notice the void left behind.
"Just mortal, huh?" He made a fist and shook his head. Maybe it was a good thing. Look was immortality had done to Ego. At least as a mortal he wouldn't have to worry about living long enough to go insane with power. Plus he knew without his family, all of whom would eventually die, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.
Peter grunted and rolled back onto his back. He'd stewed long enough, now he just wanted to listen to his music and ignore the galaxy for a while. With a small grimace he grabbed the new, to him anyways, Zune and started playing around with it. It wasn't long before a list of familiar tunes was created and he was laying back with his eye closed. Soon he was humming along to The Five Stairsteps and tapping lightly on his stomach to the beat. It wasn't his Walkman, but the songs were just as familiar, if less crackly.
Unseen by him small sparks of blue energy danced along his hand and danced through the air before fading out like sparks of fire in the air above his body. Eventually he dropped off into a fitful sleep and the sparks faded completely as if they'd never been there.