Please forgive me for the massive lag, friends. For my super BBC nerds I threw in a little treat (I hope you can already guess what it is from the title).

Peter Quill

A horrendous wheezing noise pierces the silence of the cockpit. All the Guardians but Peter pull out their weapons and scan the room cautiously.

"What is that awful noise?" demands Gamora.

"Sorry, mates, we're just parking," the Doctor says.

"Parking? Where? You didn't have to gain any clearance?" Peter says. As far as he knows, this ship is sizeable. There is no way the Doctor is able to casually land it like it's a simple fighter.

"'Course not," the Doctor replies. "I never need clearance."

"How do you manage that?" Rocket asks.

"You'll see." The Doctor winks. The TARDIS jolts as the wheezing noise stops. He pulls the navigations out of a slot and examines them. Peter looks at them over his shoulder.

The numbers that concerned Peter during the departure have stabilized at 520. Peter wonders what significance they have in appearing on the ship's main navigation screen.

"Ah, yes. England in 520 A.D., or rather Albion." the Doctor chuckles. "Brilliant year, perfect weather. Good day for a medieval fieldtrip."

"I'm sorry, did you say medieval?" Peter says.

"Yes."

"Medieval!" Rose cheers. "We haven't seen the medieval ages yet. Think we'll run into King Arthur?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rose," the Doctor scoffs. "He'll surely be too busy to see us."

"You both know the stories of King Arthur are lore, right?" Peter says, though he wouldn't be surprised to find that these two believe in fairytales seeing as they appear to be living in one.

"Star-Lord." The Doctor shakes his head at Peter. "You would not believe how much factual history has been categorized as lore."

"Enough with this nonsense," Gamora cuts in. "Where have you taken us?"

"I just told you England, 520 A.D."

"The year 520?"

"Yes."

"That's impossible."

The Doctor sighs. "How many times have I got to tell you? We're on a bloody time machine. I can take us relatively anywhere during any time."

"Oi, Doctor, relax," Rose says. "They'll learn as soon as they step outside."

"Right you are, Rose Tyler! Allons-y!" The Doctor turns from the controls and walks down a ramp to a door. It looks wooden—definitely not a door for a spaceship, Peter thinks. But as the Doctor pushes it open he's proved wrong.

Outside the sun shines on a thick green forest. Earth. Peter hasn't seen Earth since…since his mom was still alive. Apprehension tightens his chest at the prospect of walking his home planet again. He's not sure if he's ready, but it doesn't look like he has much of a choice. His crew is already following the Doctor and Rose outside. Peter composes himself and follows suit.

The forest is even more beautiful outside. Beams of sunlight dance across the damp ground in rhythm with the breeze. Peter takes a deep breath through the nose, trying to soak in the serenity of Earth's beauty with all of his senses. He runs his hand along the trunk of a giant elm and smiles.

"Damn, I kind of missed this," he says.

"What do you mean?" Rose says, appearing at his side. "Don't you live on Earth?"

"Nah, I was sort of a vagabond up until about a year ago. I haven't stepped foot on Earth since I was eight."

"Wow! I can't even imagine being away from Earth for so long! I'd miss my mum too much."

"My mom's dead," Peter says dryly. Rose's gaze turns intensely sympathetic.

"I'm so sorry, Star-Lord." She puts her hand on my shoulder and smiles at me knowingly. "I understand how you feel. My father died when I was a baby."

"I never knew my father," he says and looks up at the sky. "But I know he's out there somewhere."

"What in the galaxy?" Peter hears Gamora yell and he turns to face her. She's standing a few feet from the TARDIS gaping at it. Rocket and Drax stand next to her doing the same and soon Peter joins them.

He points a shaking finger at the wooden blue box. "I-Impossible."

"Not quite, mate." Rose chuckles.

"It-it's b-bigger—"

"On the inside! Yes!" the Doctor interrupts. "Brilliant. Can we move on now?"

"How is this possible?" Gamora says, examining the perimeter of the impossible "spaceship."

"Time Lord science," the Doctor answers dryly.

"There is no such thing!" she shouts. "This is-this is—"

"Sorcery?" Rose suggests

There's a rustle in the brush and the group falls silent. Peter stiffens and instinctively reaches for his blaster only to remember that he left it in the Milano. Though he doubts he'll need it on Earth, he never likes to be out and about without a weapon—his vagabond compulsions have followed him into his vigilante work. He doesn't know if he'll ever get used to giving instead of taking, fixing instead of breaking, caring instead of neglecting—that's who he was for so long.

"Hello?" the Doctor calls out. The rustling stops and Peter tenses even further. He eyes Gamora who nods and pulls out her blaster.

"Who is there?" she demands in that harsh, professional tone Peter is all too familiar with.

"Don't do anything brash if you value your lives," replies the confident voice of a young man.

Likely angered by the bold command, Drax shouts, "Why don't you appear from your concealment and say that to our faces, doltish terran?"

"Certainly," the voice says. There's a rustling again and out of the thick brush steps a young man of about 18.

To Peter he seems an awkward sort of kid. He's kind of goofy looking with big ears, a wide chin, and a long nose. His clothes are drab and tattered like a medieval peasant's. But despite his unimpressive appearance there's something interesting about him Peter can't quite pinpoint. Maybe it's the absence of fear in his countenance or the confident way he's carrying himself in the presence of potentially hostile strangers, but Peter senses an unfamiliar aura of power radiating off him. He is suddenly feeling compliant with this kid's orders and that makes him uncomfortable. Though innate stubbornness will hardly allow that to happen.

"You want to run that by us again, kid?" Peter challenges.

"I said," the young man starts confidently, but the Doctor interrupts.

"Oi, none of that!" he says and approaches the stranger. The kid firmly holds his ground, though he tucks the satchel he wears over his shoulder behind his back.

The Doctor extends his hand to the kid. "I'm the Doctor and I swear to you we mean you no harm."

The young man cautiously shakes the Doctor's hand, but seems to relax his defensive posture. "I'm Merlin," he says.

"Merlin!" Peter shouts without really thinking. "You've got to be kidding me. This has gone too far."

"Does the name carry any significance for you Peter?" Drax says.

In fact it does. Peter never really got into the chivalric tales of King Arthur and his round table his teachers used to read to the class in the name of literature, but it forced him into a close familiarity with the subject matter. The Doctor already mentioned King Arthur like he was a real person, now he wants to play this angle? No. Peter's not having it.

"Uh, yeah," he says. "Try for everyone who has lived on Earth for any period of time. In the lore Merlin is a warlock—the greatest sorcerer of all time, or something like that."

The young man's eyes widen and for the first time since he appeared he looks uneasy.

"H-how do you know that?" he says, taking a couple steps away from the group.

"Everyone does!" Peter shouts. "It's kiddie bullsh-"

"That's enough!" Rose cuts in. "Look at the poor boy. We're terrifying him. We landed in his path and threatened him and some of us must appear very strange to him."

"Trust me, I've seen stranger," Merlin says.

"In any case," Rose continues, calmly approaching Merlin, "we're being very rude and I apologize."

Merlin looks at Rose and then quickly back to Peter. "How do you know who I am?"

"I know who you told us you are, I don't know you really are," Peter says.

"Why would he lie to us?" the Doctor asks Peter indignantly.

"Are you druid?" Merlin continues, keeping his intense gaze set on Peter.

"Druid? What? I don't even know what that is!" Peter looks at his friends agitatedly. They're all gaping at him and Merlin silently. "I don't even know why we're here! My ship crashed and this weirdo kidnapped us!" He gestures to the Doctor who scowls deeply.

"That's enough, Star-Lord!" he commands. "On your ship you may be the captain, but when you're travelling with us you take orders from me. Time travel is a delicate, meticulous matter—the balance of the future rests in our hands and one wrong move could mean the end of the universe as we know it. One wrong move and you don't even exist."

The Guardians stare at the Doctor, unsure how to respond to the stern outburst. For the first time since this ordeal started, Peter believes the seriousness in the Doctor's tone. Maybe he isn't screwing with them.

"You're not kidding are you?" Peter says quietly.

"No, Star-Lord, I'm not. You're in Medieval Europe; my ship is bigger on the inside; and that boy over there is probably the Merlin you're already familiar with."

Peter runs his fingers through his hair. "Hey, kid, come here," he says to Merlin.

"No," Merlin replies quickly, taking a step back.

"Just come here!" Peter repeats firmly. "I ain't going to hurt you. I'm not even armed."

"Fine, but don't try anything funny. You'll regret it."

"Yeah, whatever. Come here."

Merlin walks up to Peter and glares at him cautiously. "What do you want?"

"Do you know that guy over there?" Peter nods at the Doctor who's crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. Peter knows he doesn't have a lot of time before the man goes off on him again.

"No," Merlin says. "Never seen him before in my life.

Peter examines Merlin's face before continuing, "Where are we?"

"Camelot."

Peter raises his eyebrows. "When are we?"

"What's that supposed to—?"

"What year is it, kid?"

"I don't know. Um, 517? 515?"

"520?" the Doctor suggests.

"Yeah," Merlin agrees, "that sounds right."

"Shit," Peter breathes.

"What is it Peter?" Gamora says.

"Guys," Peter turns to his friends, "I don't think he was kidding. I think we're in the past. I think we time travelled."

"Impossible!" Drax shouts.

Peter turns back to Merlin. "Can you prove it? Can you prove we're in Camelot in 520?"

"Um, I suppose." Merlin shrugs. "But they're going to have to cover up or something," he points to Drax and Gamora, "and the tree and raccoon are going to have to stay behind."

"Hey who you calling a raccoon?" Rocket demands.

"I am Groot!"

"Brilliant!" The Doctor claps his hands together excitedly. "Drax, Gamora, down the hallway to your left 15 doors on the right is the Medieval closet. I suggest something with a hood and very long boots for both of you. Rose, go with them and help them out. As for Rocket and Groot, I have something for you two. Follow me!" He runs into the TARDIS and all but Peter and Merlin follow.

An awkward silence ensues between the two strangers, but Merlin breaks it.

"Did you say time travel?" he says.

Peter chuckles. "Yeah. Weird, huh? I hardly believe it myself."

"Not so weird. But um, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, kid."

Merlin rubs the nape of his neck awkwardly. "You're obviously from the future and you said that lots of people knew of me there."

"That's right."

"Well, um, am I known as a good guy? A-a hero? Did I turn out okay?"

Peter smiles fondly at the kid, remembering the days when all he was worried about was his legacy. All he wanted was to be known as somebody, even if he was known as an outlaw. "Definitely," Peter says and the boy smiles.

I am so sorry it's so short and really bad, but I just wanted to post something because it's been so long.

I'm going to try really hard to update more frequently.