Long Way Around

Okay, so this is my first dabble in GotG, and I'm the first to admit my knowledge is dominated by the MCU (and only what is easily searchable in regards to comics)…

Also, apologies for my rustiness, this is the first piece of fic I've worked on in about 18 months. Hopefully, this is the breaking of the drought, and not just an anomaly.

Enjoy!

There's a myriad of reasons why Peter's never been back to Terra.

The ones he cites most often is that Terra is still considered under-developed, and is basically under a 'no-fly' order from much of the known galaxy. Although, clearly, the Ravagers didn't care about that when they took him. And apparently no-one told his father Terra was off-limits either. So that reasoning doesn't really hold up to much scrutiny.

If he's feeling a touch more honest, he'll admit that a youth of wandering has given him itchy feet, and the thought of going back and staying put on one planet doesn't agree with him. He has no real idea of where Terran technology is at now, or their views on intergalactic travellers dropping in, but his childhood had been filled of stories of aliens, and most of the time, the visitors weren't exactly welcomed. It's pretty stupid, he knows, but the uncertainty is enough to make him think twice.

But beyond that, the reasons get much more complicated, and more personal. Going back to Earth means confronting a whole lot of things he likes to pretend he's already dealt with.

But he hasn't dealt with them.

What he'd really done was to shove those thoughts into a box, and then pretended that messy conglomeration of feelings aren't there.

Earth—Terra—has little to draw him back. Technology is hardly likely to have caught up. Music and movies vaguely make him wonder, but most of those treasured memories of his have little to do with the content, and everything to do with the company he'd had experiencing them. Which ninety percent of the time means his mother. Which is where the real crux of the issue really is.

Going back to Earth means admitting he hasn't had a home since his mother died.

Sure, his time with the Ravagers had given him a physical home of sorts, but he never really belonged there. Even as a kid, he knew that. Not to mention, he was sick of having the whole "But we didn't eat you," thing held over his head constantly. But a real home? That implied something else entirely to Peter.

It meant having someone that actually gave a damn about you. Cared about you.

Family.

As a kid, he'd figured out that his family didn't fit the Earth standard of 'normal'. No dad around, but he was okay with that, because he had his Mom. And no-one in any of his classes had a mom that was as awesome as her. No amount of taunting from his classmates at school could change his mind about that.

Most of the arrangement that had been put into place after his mom got sick had gone over his head. He'd been too busy trying to pretend it wasn't happening at first. All he knew was he'd be with his Grandpa and Grandma.

This was where guilt entered that messy knot of emotions.

Peter had liked his Grandpa. He'd been vaguely aware of tension between him and his mother—no doubt about Peter's father, in hindsight—but the old man never treated him anything but well. And Jackson Quill had loved his daughter.

That night—the one Peter tries not to think about too often—when Jackson had pulled him from his mother's room, Peter couldn't fault the man's actions. Peter may have been a kid who was distraught after watching his mom die, but he wasn't the only one falling apart. Peter's final image of his grandfather was the devastated face of a man who's lost a child.

He can't feel angry at the man for not being able to deal with him at that moment on top of that.

When he thinks about the ruckus that must have occurred in the wake of his disappearance, he finds himself hit with a nauseating wave of guilt.

God knows what everyone think happened to him. Probably think him dead.

It's his main regret about not visiting Earth. Not reassuring what family he had left back there that was, in fact, alive. Peter thinks back to that hospital room. Both his grandparents were there, his mom's younger brother, his mom's friend. Are his grandparents even still alive? Does he have cousins?

But at the same time, what would he even tell them? "Hi there, I'm your long lost grandson/nephew. I've been running around the universe in general for the last 27 years… Sorry I haven't let you know I'm still alive. Oh, and all those questions you wanted Mom to answer about my dad? Well, he's an alien. But I don't know what exactly."

Oh yeah, that'd go over real well. And what the heck would he say he'd been doing all these years? Thieving, while largely accurate, wasn't exactly something that passed for an acceptable answer… Not that they'd even be likely to believe he was who he said he was. Why should they?

Peter hasn't thought about all of these things in years. He'd thought it easier to leave it behind him.

But now he's finally got a family again. A strange one, he'll admit, but it is a family. All five of them are so completely different, but they somehow fit together to make a team, and as improbable as it seems, they belong.

It's a powerful thing, that feeling of belonging.

This is home.

Peter hadn't realised just how much he'd missed it.

And maybe… maybe it was time for him to face up and deal with the past. And thank Gamora considerably for getting him to actually open up those boxes he'd shoved his past into.

"Hey, guys," he announces in the Milano's cockpit the next day. "How do you all feel about a little detour before we head back this time…?"

Four heads turn to him questioningly.

"Where were you thinking," Gamora asks, her head tilting to the side to regard Peter with curiosity.

Peter fiddles with the controls to try and conceal his nervousness.

"Well, I was thinking, it's probably about time I paid Terra a visit after all these years…"