Remember that whole shit stain mess with Gamora's derange adductor who claimed to be a loving dad?

Yeah, it's been dealt with. There's no time for Peter Quill to explain the whole damn thing because more important matters is happening right now. Like, push those awesome critical high stakes battles out of his mind because it took place weeks ago and now that things have settled down, Star Lord got something to do.

After the Infinity War (who came up with that name, it wasn't Peter that's for sure) the Guardians stuck around Terra and with Gamora's pushing, Peter took the charitable Stark modes of transportation to get to Missouri.

Peter would've taken his spaceship but Stark argued that a totally super cool ship like the Milano would bring unwanted attention. That and Groot and the spiderkid accidentally blew up the engine.

It's fucking weird to walking down the streets of his hometown. Everything is old or replaced by something new by Terran standards. Peter briefly recalls his deranged dad was responsible for some of the damages that occurred in the last few years.

The Guardians and the Avengers should have a 'We Have Shitty Dads' Club.

Anyway, fuck them.

Today's not about fathers.

Peter Quill spent years thinking about this and now he's only a few yards away from it. He swallows the lump of saliva and guilt building up and takes a step into the cemetery. Wandering around the place isn't as morbid as Peter first thought. He's just a spaceman walking past names he'll never really know, of people who say Earth and not Terra.

Maybe he's putting too much thought into this but he always says he's Terran or at least half but he doesn't really know his culture or identity as a Terran. Memory recalls a family and friends but it's vague at best as Peter continues walking through the rows of tombstones.

The cemetery is neat and organized with the hundreds of graves built in. Each one looks old according to the death dates but most have polished sheen or grass trimmed away from the names. Peter kneels down to one and replaces a fallen stuffed bear. He doesn't linger for long when he calculates an age of fifteen between the stated years.

Peter passes by another tombstone and fixes the overturned plastic vase of peonies. Hmm, maybe he should've brought flowers. No. He made it this far, if he turns back there's the fear that he'll chicken out and run away like happened on day he got picked up by Yondu.

Without any more distractions or the thought that he doesn't deserve to be here, Peter finally reaches his mom.

The tombstone of Meredith Quill is exactly what he expected. It's stone, pretty solid, the correct dates, fancy font, and of course the Beloved Daughter and Mother.

"Hi," Peter's voice barely cracks, already wavering so he tries again, "Hi Mom." He bit his lip, "Sorry I'm late."

Yeah, like he expected there's no respond.

(An afterthought did wonder if her ghost is here though, making him even more nervous)

"Dad's a dick," he blurts out. Okay so he was gonna say it more eloquently but the message would've been the same. "He admitted to killing you so yeah, he's a grade A dick." Nothing comes from staring at her name but Peter feels the warmth of the sun shining down. "Well the only person I do prefer to call dad would be Yondu. He's the one who kidnapped me on the day you…" Peter looks to the death date. "Yeah that day…"

Peter's hands clam up and squeezing makes them sweatier. "Mom, I'm sorry I ran. I was stupid and scared and I don't have a real excuse other than I couldn't believe what was happening. I wish I taken your hand. I wish I went back in time to do that or slap some sense into my kids self." A laugh unexpected arose from Peter, "Actually time travel is real but thankfully that's not my responsibility." He took a deep breath to get serious again. "I think I did hold your hand in a way. I grabbed an Infinity Stone, long story, and I saw you.

"You were still in your hospitable bed and gown; the tubes were still there too I think. You had the dark patches of skin from the chemo, fuck," Peter inhaled the fresh air, desperately, "I thought I was able to forget that awful smell but that weird vison thing brought it back. I hated that smell, it was horrible." The odor was too methodical, structured the way it is to be a medicine just to prolong death. To him it was the smell of death, more terrible than any alien scent. He grew silent for a moment, "I don't know how you endured it, all of it."

"The battles I've been in are nothing compared to yours," Peter said.

He couldn't think of anything else to say out loud.

Fleeting thought of talking about his adventures or about his team came to mind. There is no way in hell Peter is going to rant about turning into dust to his mom's grave.

"I turned into dust," he blurted because it was in his head and maybe he hates himself a little. "That was not a fun experience."

Peter bent is knees slightly and then he finally decided to sit down, "It felt like the opposite of what Ego did to me. He had me connect to everything and my mind just melded into things I can't comprehend. I felt every and all things and it felt paralyzing and powerful. Turning into dust felt like every cell in me was isolated and scared. I felt numb and cold. Oh god I feel like puking."

Suck it up, he thought to himself. Puking on his mom's grave is not how he planned today.

"I like almost died a whole bunch of times, some of it was Rocket's fault honestly. I don't know if the dust thing counts as death because I thought that maybe I'll find you on the other side." Peter poked at the grass, "I didn't as you can see. Now that I'm here on this side, I thought, hey, I've been stalling for way too long."

"The Milano could easily travel to Earth anytime I wanted to but I never came. I'm sorry Mom. Hell it even took me years to open your present. Thank you by the way," Peter said, not minding how watery his eyes are getting, "Ego broke my Walkman. I thought about getting a new one but apparently they're deemed as ancient which is bullshit."

He kept talking, rambling more so just to fill in the silent, calm day. By the time his tongue was dry and his mouth was clammy nearly all of his space adventures were told. Describing his team both infuriated him due to their personality and quirks but also brought him a warm pressure in his chest.

Yeah fuck it, he loves his team, he says to his mom. He loves his family because they all just fit into one big mess but it was their mess and that was fine.

"I love you Mom," Peter says, realizing that it took him this long to say it. The sun's going down and there's a chill in the air. There is no way he'll be here at night so he decides to wrap things up. "I love you and I miss you. I get that you'll be in my heart and all but sometimes it feels like it's not enough.

"The first time I didn't spend a waking thought about you, I felt extremely guilty. I hated myself for forgetting about you. I thought I wasn't a good son just because for a mere moment I was happy when you were dead and I just forgot about you."

Those old memories were pushed to the back of his mind but he was aware of that version of himself. It was a point of his grief that turned into self-loathing that can only be described as mental punishments.

"I'm better now," Peter firmly says, just to get his mind away from that shit. "I am better because I know that you would want me to be happy and not wallow in those dark, messy, shitty thoughts." He stands up, never gazing away, "I miss you and I want you to know that. You gave me so much and more and you're the best mom ever."

For the last time that day Peter said, "I love you Mom."

He leaves the cemetery.

Hours later the stars shine upon Meredith Quill's name.

This is a rather personal piece of mine, probably the first fic I ever wrote with me projecting myself onto a fictional character. idk I guess its what makes him my favorite character.

Thanks for reading!