No units, no ship, no Ravagers to return to – Peter finds that he's surprisingly okay with that.
At least Xandar is still full of life (Anal-retentive life, hell-bent on setting new rebuilding records, but life.), Starlord (and friends) are widely known as the heroes of the hour and the Nova Corps, as the representative of the whole planet, is sufficiently grateful.
Peter is pretty sure that he has never before been among so many people happy to see him.
They greet him, they smile at him, they don't treat him like an idiot (Okay, much of an idiot.) and they are generally pleasant to be around.
A part of Peter loves it.
All that adoration, positive attention, hero worship…
Another part waits for the other shoe to drop.
Fortunately the Nova Corps keeps the team busy enough (They are probably scared of what the newly dubbed "Guardians of the Galaxy" – and how cool is that name – will do if getting bored.) and Peter can distract himself with whatever they've just come up with to fill his days.
He goes and listens to debriefings, sits in on meetings (The Nova Corps clearly know leadership material when they see it – or have simply recognized him as the most sane and approachable of the whole bunch and Peter really, really doesn't know how to feel about that.), gets somehow drafted to appear at charity events and meets a whole load of Very Important Persons while being the Most Important Person himself.
Most of the time Peter is way out of his depth, but either he does his usual stellar job of hiding it or nobody really cares.
And at least he's not the only one uncomfortable with the whole situation:
Gamora has clammed up tighter than he has ever seen her before, back always ramrod straight and her bearing even more military than before.
She's in even more meetings than Peter himself, spilling whatever information on Ronan, the Kree and Thanos she has.
Rocket is an aggressive little mess, constantly cuddling a potted Groot-sprout and snarling at everybody getting too close.
He has bitten at least three different Corpsmen by now, reveling in the new-found freedom to do so without consequences, and his hotel room is a disaster of gutted appliances and half-finished experimental weapons.
Drax actually has the easiest time of it, simply by being himself.
Ronan is finished, the immediate threat averted, so everything is alright in Drax's little world.
He has no further information to give, is not connected to anybody else of interest, and his whole mindset is so "alien" to anybody else's that the Nova Corps has given up on questioning him pretty fast. (He's not stupid, not really, just simply not worried about the same things as everybody else. Drax deals in facts, not in maybes and what-ifs: Ronan is dead. Xandar is safe. Drax will go after Thanos next. The Hows aren't important until he actually has to make a decision. And for everything else: Que sera, sera…)
He's good with kids, though, so the Corps has him mostly touring orphanages and hospitals. (Peter had to explain to Drax why he couldn't take his knives with him, though. It hadn't been fun…)
Things slow down after a while and the Nova Corps is smart enough to reward good behavior: Suddenly doors open for the team they had never thought possible before and even Rocket gets out of his funk for a bit when he gets introduced to some of the Corps ultra-secret, officially-do-not-even-exist Research and Development guys.
Gamora relaxes bit by bit, Drax is as content as he can be and Peter grins like a loon when a newly promoted Denarian Dey personally opens the high security doors to Xandar's most famous nature reserve for him and his team.
Given the wink Dey throws in his direction and the cheeky comments randomly distributed over the guided tour, the Denarian clearly remembers their first meeting(s) and has probably personally made sure to finally fulfill Peter's "biggest wish".
(Peter appreciates the thought, really, even if not for quite the reasons Rhomann Dey believes.
It makes his whole life a lot easier in the long run.
Oh, he won't destroy the spore right here and right now, not when he has still such a great thing going on Xandar.
But now that Peter got a close look at the various security measures, he's sure that his next attempt at breaking and entering will go off without a hitch. Maybe even without anybody figuring out that it was him.)
The visit and slight ridicule is definitely worth it though because the whole area is breathtakingly beautiful and even the more destructive of his friends seem to appreciate the chance to quietly unwind in nearly untouched nature.
They clearly needed the breather and Rocket uses the opportunity to pester the scientist leading them around over all things regarding proper plant-care.
(Peter listens with half an ear while looking around.
It kind of sounds as if Rocket expects them to and Peter fears that there will be a quiz at one point if the little guy gets his way.)
At long least they reach the (in)famous spore and while the rest of his teams ohs and ahs (more or less) appreciatively at Xandar's first contact with alien life, Peter glowers at it instead from a safe distance.
The stars in his mind mock him with their silver-bright glow.
The stars in his mind flicker purple now and then and Peter tries really, really hard not to think about what that might mean.
The seedling is a fragile, blue shimmering bauble in its lattice-work cradle, innocent and pretty and so obviously alien compared to its surroundings.
Peter can't help but wonder why nobody on Xandar ever thought to wonder about why there was only one of its kind around and just how it managed to resist any attempt to analyze it so far. But then again, Peter knows better than anybody else just how charming and convincing his father can be and it stands to reason that his offshoots (offspring?) wouldn't be any different.
Peter smiles and laughs and nods at all the right places as they continue their tour, but his mood has soured and his mind finally begins to return to more familiar thoughts and worries. He feels nervous all of sudden, restless and haunted, and the urge to run swells deep in his bones.
Peter's been here too long.
How long has it been now: Days? Weeks?
Too long for a guy on the run from a minor god.
Peter has only one defense against his father and that is to simply not be wherever Ego is, to lose himself in the vastness of space and never stay longer than necessary in one single place.
What he has done just now?
Whiling away the days on Xandar?
Dangerous beyond measure!
Peter needs to leave, as soon as possible, no matter how.
(And what a great idea it had been to pick now to break with Yondu.
No units, no ship, no Ravagers to return to – Peter is fucked and will be lucky if he finds one smuggler willing to take him on with a face as well-known as his now is.)
…
Fools are lucky, and Peter is the greatest fool of them all (Ask anybody, they'll point right at him.).
His half-assed negotiations and escape plans get derailed because Nova Prime has a revelation for him.
Peter's an alien! (Go figure.)
No really, he's something ancient and unknown they've never seen before!
(Just look into your backyard, Peter wants to say. That little spore-thing valiantly resisting any attempt to give up its secrets? That's my dad.
Now torch it! You're welcome by the way.)
As much as he wants to, Peter doesn't have it in him to rain on their parade.
Not only because the explanation is really complicated and hard to believe, but also because they are all so excited and happy about the news.
It's "fascinating" and, let's face it, Xandarian's are secretly all nerds at heart.
(The only one looking just as unimpressed as Peter feels is a still pretty battered looking Denarian Saal.
Then again, the poor man could also just be in pain, because apparently even members of the Nova Corps were only so long rule-abiding as it didn't mean that they were stuck in a hospital for longer than they felt necessary.
Peter whole-heartedly approves.)
(Saal's and a majority of the Nova Corps pilots' survival was a miracle as far as the rest of the Corps was concerned.
An unexpected gift of the Worldmind that, upon the final shattering of the blockade, had turned the remains of the individual shields inwards instead, protecting the pilots first from the crushing force of the falling Dark Aster, then later from the impact as their broken starships rained down to the ground again.)
(Peter knows better though and can't help the warm glow of accomplishment pulsing deep in his chest.
Protect, protect, protect Xandar – and all it entails!)
For once unable to act properly wow-ed by the news, Peter settles on suitably doubtful and a bit overwhelmed instead.
(He's been Peter the plucky little Terran for so long, that some disbelief that he could be something more should be understandable, right?)
Gamora's spot-on observation doesn't help with his charade at all, but thankfully nobody notices how he freezes for just the slightest moment.
She doesn't know, she can't know, she has no idea, oh god, what is he going to do?
In the end, it turns out that Nova Prime has one further reason to feel happy this day: Apparently Xandar outdid itself and rebuilt the Milano in record time.
(Peter would like to think that she's just happy to present them with a final thank-you for saving her world, but the truth is that Peter isn't the only one that has slowly begun to go stir-crazy. And while Peter's reaction was to search for a way off-planet, the other Guardians became more… creative.)
( Yeah no, let's face it: Any longer and somebody would have done something everybody would have regretted.)
…
Now this is a real reason to be at a loss for words.
Peter's ship is brand-spanking new and beautiful.
Just like he remembers her and yet all shiny and untouched and with this new-car-smell that seems to be a universal constant.
Suddenly Peter feels like he can breathe again and Ego seems like a danger far, far away…
He's got his ship, he's got a team and it looks like his days of lonely planet-skipping are over once and for all.
He will flit from place to place.
He will never stay anywhere longer than for a few days, hopping from planet to planet to space station to Xandar and back again.
Sometimes he will follow orders, sometimes he will do missions and other times he will (secretly) follow the stars his father once kindled in his mind.
But this time Peter will have more than just faint acquaintances in every port and meaningless one-night-stands on every planet.
Instead he will take his friends along and maybe, just maybe they will turn out to be the stable roots he can only sometimes admit to missing.
Maybe.
…
Peter sets his eyes on the stars, picks a course and pushes the throttle.
His mom's new/old music sounds through the ship, his new team is happy and hopeful around him and even the tiny Groot-sprout is finally strong enough to wake up and take a look at the limitless universe in front of him.
Everything is wonderful, as great as it could ever be, and Peter should be utterly content with it…
He's thinking about "Maybes", instead.
Because in that short moment, right before Gamora's scream, when Peter held the stone and was caught on the brink of either somehow controlling its might or painful death by internal combustion?
What he'd sensed had been:
Maybe.
…
One year, that's what Peter gets.
One endless seeming, adventure-filled, exciting and exhilarating year.
It's not perfect (but then, what ever is), but it's great in a way nothing ever has been before.
In a way, Peter's doing exactly the same things he did before, even if on a somewhat greater scale and with his name actually known now and in everybody's mouth.
He's a hero – the hero of Xandar -, and consequently his jobs now contain a bit less breaking and entering and petty theft and a lot more freedom fighting, damsels in distress-rescuing and planet-defending.
And a lot more guns and explosions.
But all in all, it's still the same.
(He's even still paying Yondu a hefty amount of credits after every job done because you just don't cheat your former Captain out of four billion units, especially if the last catastrophe clearly showed you just how badly you may need another army in your future one day.
Yondu is happy, Peter has options and the rest of the Ravagers are either mollified or dead.)
(That job cost extra, by the way…)
The only real difference is, that now, when he gets the sudden urge to fill the silence, somebody usually answers back.
Loudly.
Insistently.
And with opinions that regularly clash with his own.
It's heaven.
Peter Pan got his own bunch of Lost Boys now – but strangely enough, Peter can't remember Wendy being ever quite that good at killing…
It's also hell, because even living with a bunch of Ravagers on the deceptively large looking Eclector never quite prepared Peter for being continuously stuck in an enclosed space with this particular mix of assholes:
Gamora judges absolutely everything and everybody, either quietly or with words that fucking hurt and pry at every little insecurity Peter thought he'd hidden away ages ago.
Drax seems to just cruise along on his own wavelength, content in a way that should be enviable if it wouldn't usually be at the cost of everybody else panicking while everything around them seems to go to shit.
Rocket seems to actually take the change from lone wolf to team player the hardest, constantly poking and prodding at boundaries and limits, trying to find the point where the others will just give up, throw up their hands in the air and leave him behind.
It doesn't work and only makes him feel more caged and out of his depth, resulting in even more bristling, snarling and chaos (Peter's totally onto him. Mainly because if he wasn't so busy running damage control on Rocket's latest outbursts, he would cause them himself. In fact, he feels a bit as if he's living them vicariously through Rocket in a way.
Doesn't spare him the headaches, though.).
And Groot…
Grott is cute, too innocent for this world (let alone the universe) and trouble with a capital T.
(He's still Peter's favorite, though. With the cute face and the big, guileless eyes? And the itsy, bitsy fingers and branches?
Honestly, how could he not be?)
Anyway, somehow they've all made it through almost an entire year by now, surviving ups and downs and each other.
(And wasn't that a close call with the Sovereigns thanks to Rocket getting the bright idea to steal some of the very same batteries they had been contracted to protect in the first place? Fortunately Peter was even better than him in stealing them back and dropping them somewhere where they'll be found sooner rather than later. Sometimes it helps that every like calls to like in a way and that Peter's senses have only been getting sharper since his encounter with the Infinity Stone.)
(Now, what to do with Nebula, though.
Because no matter what Gamora says, she's so not ready to break with her sister once and for all.
Peter's somewhat of an expert of not being ready to break with people by now and he can tell, if he lets her deliver Nebula to Xandar, Gamora will probably regret it forever.)
(Hopefully Nebula has experience with lock-picks and will just consider it a favor owed…)
(And if Peter slipped her Yondu's contact frequency on the sly?
Well, after that little ill-fated mutiny the Guardians helped the Ravagers deal with, they are certainly short on men and may just take her in…
And consider it another bunch of credits off Peter's debt.)
(Maybe then Yondu will also finally stop trying to reach him every few days.)
(Peter is a genius, if he may say so himself.)
…
Peter is a fool.
A complete and utter fool.
One year, that's what Peter got.
One endless seeming, adventure-filled, exciting and exhilarating year.
How could he ever think this would work?
How didn't he notice?
He flitted from place to place.
He never stayed anywhere longer than for a few days, hopping from planet to planet to space station to Xandar and back again.
Sometimes he gave orders (that once in a while were even obeyed), sometimes he did missions (or wormed his way out of whatever trouble the others had roped him into) and other times he followed the stars his father once kindled in his mind without any of his new team the wiser.
Peter is a fool and an idiot but he isn't stupid.
He should have seen the obvious problem right away…
He had faint acquaintances in every port, meaningless one-night-stands on every planet, stable roots forming oh so slowly right there on his ship…
But then again, he had had no reason to worry, didn't he?
After all he spent years this way, never having any problems out-running Ego...
It wasn't perfect (but then, what ever is), but it was great in a way nothing ever has been before.
It's also about to end.
Because his homebase was the Eclector then.
And the Eclector was mobile…
Because here he stands now, eye to eye with his father – his smiling, welcoming, utterly charming father – standing right next to an excited looking Nova Prime.
And Xandar is decidedly not.
Peter feels his heart freeze in his chest.
…
(Now Peter knows why Yondu was so desperately trying to reach him:
To warn him of the danger waiting where Peter thought he was safe…
Peter really, really should have listened.
But then again, he got complacent.
He forgot that the most important rule of running is to not get caught – to not get into a position where you can get caught!
And he forgot that he should always – always! – listen to Yondu.
Keep your head down and listen to Yondu.
You live longer that way…)
…
Peter feels his heart freeze in his chest and a smile slip on his lips, his natural bullshitter coming to the forefront to play while everything else just seems to go… numb somehow.
Introductions are made and Ego plays the happy father, finally finding the son he had been searching for for so long.
(Can't tell the truth, can he? Not without inciting questions just why Peter ran in the first place and fighting the Nova Corps would be such a hassle…)
Nova Prime and the rest of the Guardians are lapping it right up, happy and excited and just seeing another lucky break in a series of them.
They are so, so glad for him and it breaks his heart even further if it's even possible.
For them the universe is a vast and wonderful place and good things happen to good people and Peter has absolutely no fucking idea just when this happened. Just when his mismatched bunch of murderers and professional assholes forgot that there's no such thing as lucky breaks and happy endings, only the short calm before the next shitstorm, the few harried moments of rest before disaster strikes once again.
(Peter isn't sure when exactly he forgot this himself. He should have seen it…)
His father looks reassuringly normal in midst all the alien strangeness of Xandar, with once dark brown, by now fittingly greying hair and his friendly, charming smile. He is tall and strong and he wraps his arms around Peter as if he could encompass him completely even in this diminished form, keep Peter warm and safe from the cruel universe and let nothing never ever hurt him again.
Peter feels tears prickling in his eyes and heart-wrenching regret break through the numbness inside of him.
(If only, if only…)
His father seems so glad to see him, too: his eyes are warm, his voice is warm and everything about him is welcoming. His deep laugh still rumbles through Peter right into his very bones.
It's almost as if Peter never left at all…
(God, he missed him so.
His dad, the planet, the minor god, the monster…
His dad, his real-life dad! )
Peter has no idea how long he clings to him, how long he clings to yesterdays and childhood dreams and the last, crumbling dregs of innocence long lost…
He could stay here, right here, for an eternity and it still would never be enough.
(He missed him so, will always miss him…)
But there are little, brittle bones in his memories, thousands upon thousands of fragile little skulls shoved into long forgotten piles where no living thing will ever find them, unmourned and unmissed but for the potential of what they could have been.
And there is a universe consisting of a billion of stars in the back of his mind, flickering starshine-bright and purple at times, just waiting for Ego to remake everything touched by their light.
He can already hear the screams…
And there is his team, happy and loud and so blind to the danger in their midst, and the people of Xandar who haven't done anything to deserve this and then, last but not least, there is a woman, a girl, a girl-child with large, frightened eyes and the painful parody of a smile on her face, standing at Ego's back, at his beck and call, just waiting for an order, any order that will be given.
(And Peter knows his father, can see past his kind eyes and warm smile and read the amused, parental indulgence beneath it all:
Didn't you want a pet?)
I'm sorry, he will tell her later. I'm so, so sorry.
I thought he would get a dog!
Because Peter was wrong: Gamora isn't Wendy, but the true Tinkerbell, a warrior in her own right, leading her boys into flight where otherwise they would have been confined to the ground, far from any happy thoughts.
And this, this is Wendy, this poor little girl, all alone in Never-Neverland, where she never should have been to start with, just as lost and broken as all of them now, and it's solely Peter's fault…
He clings to his father, basks in his warmth and the safety of his embrace and hides the treacherous tears in his shoulder.
He remembers red plains and bluish mountains, silver metal and rainbow bubbles floating through the air.
Warm smiles, deep rumbling laughter and marvel upon marvel created just for him.
He was only ten when he gave all of this up to run and in twenty-four years – twenty-four long, long years – there hasn't been one day since that he hadn't missed this…
And he's thirty-four when he finally has to decide just how it will end.
…
He wanted to see the universe, Peter later tells his father, when they are all alone to finally "get to know each other". (Ha!)
Not at first, naturally.
At first, he was just lonely. He wanted somebody to play with.
He wanted pets.
And Ego was simply taking too long.
But then Peter got curious, he wanted to see all those things Ego had told him about for himself, so he… wandered a bit.
And then a bit more.
And a bit more…
And from one moment to the next years had passed and Peter was far from home, from Ego, and sort of just cruising along, taking in the sights, meeting new people and having fun.
Can Ego really blame him?
Didn't he do the same when he was young and stupid?
Ego is a Celestial.
He has neither the ability nor the desire to understand that anybody, especially his own offspring, could have any differing thoughts or opinions than him, let alone that Peter would try to deceive him.
Peter is a Celestial.
He grew up (or at least grew older) in the school of hard knocks out in a cold, hostile universe and learned how to lead people along and tell them just what they wanted to hear first by himself and later perfected these skills under the tutelage of a master.
Peter is – in the eyes of a lot of people but especially in the eyes of a millennia-old being – also still a child.
He knows how to whine and to get himself out of trouble.
Ego is a parent that never actually had to do any parenting.
He still doesn't stand a chance.
So Ego believes him and laughs and Peter's heart breaks with the sound even while his mouth is smiling wide and running a mile a minute, telling Ego of everything he learnt and experienced and how it paled in comparison to Ego and his home-made wonders.
And all the while, Peter plans.
10
