(Author's note: The beginning of this chapter was inspired by "Sick Days" by Sammy Heroes. Go check it out!)

Peter Quill was struggling to stay awake as Nova Prime droned on and on. He knew he should probably be paying attention to the briefing, but he just couldn't summon up the mental energy to do so. His teammates didn't notice until Rocket looked down and saw Peter with his head resting on the table, drooling.

"Hey! Idiot!" The raccoon nudged him in the side, and when that didn't work, punched him in the arm. Peter slowly raised his head and looked around. Everyone seemed to be staring at him.

"Sorry," he said. "Late watch last night."

Nova Prime nodded and continued smoothly from where she had left off. "We tracked the assassin to Valgaris, but unfortunately, once again, by the time our people got there the assassin was already dead. Of multiple projectile wounds." She stared Peter straight in the eye. "Mr. Quill, we know who's behind this, and we would appreciate it if you would tell him to back off."

Peter shrugged. "I can try."

"If he continues to interfere in an official investigation, I will have him arrested. Make that very clear."

"Uh huh." Peter looked like he was about to put his head down again, so Gamora nudged him from the other side. "Ow! What?"

"Try and stay awake!" she hissed into his ear.

"I won't keep you any longer," Nova Prime said. "I'll send the rest of the information directly to your ship. You're dismissed. I suggest you take a nice long rest. We'll let you know if you're needed."

They stood up. Peter felt dizzy as he got to his feet, but he put it down to being tired and needing food, though he didn't feel all that hungry.

"You are supposed to be the leader!" Gamora chastised him. "Do you suppose you could try to pay attention?"

He didn't answer. From the look in his eyes, she wasn't sure if he had heard her or not. Then his body went limp and he collapsed . . . and his team was there to catch him.

"Get a medic!" Nova Prime ordered.

Drax lowered the unconscious man to the floor and loosened his clothing to help him breathe easier. "There does not appear to be any sort of a mark or wound on him."

"Some sort of inhaled or ingested poison?" one of the Nova Corps officers suggested.

Gamora shook her head. "Anything in the air would have affected all of us, and as for eating or drinking it . . . I haven't seen him do either for days."

"I am Groot?"

"Well, yeah," said Rocket, "he did order food last night, but he didn't really eat any of it. Just kinda pushed it around on the plate. He's . . . he's okay, isn't he?"

No one could answer him for sure.

By the time the medic arrived, Peter was awake, but not quite ready to sit up yet. "Anybody get the license number of that truck?" If it was meant to be a joke, it fell flat. No one was laughing.

"Why," Gamora demanded, "did you not tell us you were ill?"

"What? I'm not-" He raised his head a fraction of an inch, and red and black flowers exploded in his field of vision. "Whoa! Okay, maybe I am. But I don't feel that bad. Just tired, mostly. But you knew that, right?" He looked up at her; she did not seem reassured in the least.

"Hello!" The medic had arrived. "What seems to be the problem here?"

"No problem. Nothing. I'm fine." Peter tried to sit up again, and he just couldn't manage it. His muscles didn't want to obey his brain's commands.

Someone propped him up against a chair, with a cushion behind his head. Someone else brought a glass of water. He waved it off. "No, no, I'm okay."

"That's not what I heard." The medic knelt beside him. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Nothing happened! I'm all right!"

"You lost consciousness for almost ten minutes," said Gamora. "That's not 'all right'."

"You make it sound like I'm dying! It's not that bad!"

"If I could just get in here for a second," the medic interrupted, "and take your vital signs?"

"Yeah, okay," Peter said, "but no needles! I can't stand needles."

"Don't worry. This doesn't involve needles. Yet."

"Yet?" That didn't sound too reassuring.

"I suspect the problem may be dehydration, in which case, I would recommend an IV."

"That means hospital, and hospital is a big, big no! Unless I'm hemorrhaging all my vital organs, I am not going to any hospital! No, uh uh, negative, no way, Jose!"

"I think he'd rather not go to the hospital," said Gamora.

"Yes, I'd gathered that."

"Besides which, it's too much of a risk if he's seen out in public incapacitated. For all we know, the assassin may be watching us right now."

"Wait, what?" Peter gaped at her. "I thought you said we were safe here!"

"I only said that to get you to come! You would never have left the ship if I hadn't insisted it would be perfectly safe. The truth is . . . we are never completely safe anymore."

"You guys could just dump me here and go off on your own. I mean, I'm the one they want, right? If I'm not with you, you can go have a life."

There was a shocked pause. Then Gamora smacked him on the back of the head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot. We will not leave you behind. We are a team, and we face our fears together."

"Easy for you to say. It's not your face on the target."

"I have had my face on enough targets in my life. You can't simply give in to the fear. You must fight back."

"I feel like I can't even stand up right now. How am I supposed to fight back?"

"You let us fight for you," said Drax. He turned to one of the Nova Corps officers. "There are guest rooms elsewhere in this building, are there not?"

"Yes, for visiting dignitaries and the like."

"Are any of them available?"

"They should be."

"Would that not be acceptable?" Drax asked Peter. "You can get the rest you need while avoiding the dreaded hospital. Meanwhile, we will search for the assassin and attempt to capture and question him. I would kill him, but . . ." He glanced over at Nova Prime. "I do not do that anymore. We will cooperate fully with the lawful authorities."

"And I appreciate that," she said. "You men get a floater."

"Uh uh." Peter struggled to get to his feet. "I can walk."

"I'm sure you can, but we're not taking any chances."

When the Nova officers returned with the floater, Peter noticed that one of them looked about his own height and build. And he had an idea. He sat down on the floor and started unzipping his trousers.

"Peter, what are you doing?" Gamora demanded.

"If we are being watched," he said, "I want them to see me being taken to the hospital."

"But you said no hospital!"

"Oh, they won't be bringing me. They'll be bringing him," he said, pointing to his doppelganger. "You put these on," he said, tossing the officer his pants and then stripping off his shirt, "and give me your uniform. And make sure we're seen by the news services!"

The baffled man looked to Nova Prime, who said, "I think I know what he has in mind. Do it." Then she turned her back.

It was all over the news. Which was exactly what Peter wanted. The footage of "his" unconscious body being taken to the hospital were shown over and over, until he was sure everyone was convinced. The Nova Corps had guards stationed outside and inside the hospital, in case any assassins showed up.

Meanwhile Peter was actually in a luxury suite on an upper floor of Nova Headquarters, not guarded by anyone except his friends, who took turns watching over him. And he was bored out of his mind.

At least he didn't have an IV in his arm, though. He might be too tired to raise his head and spoon-fed like a baby, but no needles were within a hundred klicks of him. Good. That was just the way he wanted it.

It wasn't the first time he'd been flat on his back helpless, either.

Peter isn't sleeping when Yondu enters the room, although he's lying very still and his eyes are closed. He feels a rough hand on his forehead, but Yondu doesn't say anything. It occurs to the ten-year-old that Yondu thinks he's sleeping, and he'll leave the room if Peter doesn't do something. So he opens his eyes.

"How're you feelin', boy?" Yondu asks.

Peter tries to raise his head but can't. "Tired."

"I'll bet. Good news, though: Doc says that ya should be over this bug in a few days. So just hang in there, y'hear me?"

"'M bored."

"Ah know. Wish I could stay, but we're runnin' this ship with a skeleton crew 'cause everyone's sick. You jes' stay here and rest, and you'll be better in no time. Doc's comin' with yer medicine."

Peter makes a face. "Can't stand that stuff."

"You want a shot? Needles pokin' ya?"

The boy shakes his head.

"Then you take what he gives ya. Oh, here's Doc now."

Corfla enters the room, carrying his customary bag in one hand and the dreaded medicine in the other. "And how are we feeling today, my boy?"

Peter tries to shrug, but his shoulders barely move under all the blankets. "Okay, I guess."

"Well, let's have a look at you." He uses the handheld scanner to examine the boy. "Getting there. Certainly much better than you were a few days ago. Terrans are so fragile . . . I thought we were going to lose you. But you're a tough little fellow, and you pulled through."

Peter doesn't know it at the time, but two crew members have already died, and three more will expire before this is all over. Still, with over a hundred men infected, the loss of only five is almost a miracle. There have been shipboard plagues, Kraglin tells him later, that have carried off dozens of men at a time. They're lucky this time.

"All right, now." Corfla measures out a dose of the foul liquid into a tiny plastic cup. "Captain, would you help him sit up, please?"

"'Ere we go, Pete." Strong arms surround him and lift him up until his back is resting against the wall. "Take yer medicine, now."

"I hate it! It tastes like crap!"

"Would ya rather have a needle in yer arm?"

Peter's eyes go wide and round at this. He remembers all the useless injections his mother endured in the year and a half of her illness. Needles mean death. "No, sir."

"Open up, now," Corfla urges him kindly. Peter opens his mouth, squinting his eyes tightly shut, as if by blocking one sense he can somehow shut them all off. It doesn't work. He smells the rotten odor just before the taste settles on his tongue, and he swallows quickly to get rid of it. The aftertaste is even worse, though, and he gags slightly.

"Sorry about that," the medic says. "I hope this will help." And he holds up a small orange lollipop.

Peter takes it and unwraps it, slipping it into his mouth with a mumbled "Thank you." The sweetness that slides down his throat doesn't entirely take away the bad taste of the medicine, but it makes everything better.

"We'll let ya sleep now," Yondu says, holding the door open for the doctor. "But not with that thing in yer mouth!"

"I know."

"An' don't leave the wet stick on the furniture! Ya got a trash bin fer a reason!"

"Yes, sir."

"G'night, boy."

Peter nearly does fall asleep with the lollipop in his mouth, but he remembers just in time and finishes it off before tossing the empty stick in the bin. Lollipops make everything better. Even the orange ones.

A soft sound in his room startled him awake. He sat up and opened his eyes, ready to call for help if he needed it.

"'S only me, boy."

"Yondu?" He reached for the light and turned it on. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"Saw ya on the news. Knew it wasn't you bein' taken away. Clever. Real clever. Hope ya fooled the assassin."

"Yeah, me too."

"We'll stop by the hospital later 'n make sure. I hope we catch the son of a bitch this time. Alive."

"Yeah, about that-"

"What?"

"You can't keep killing them when they won't talk. Nova Prime threatened to have you arrested if you interfere in their investigation."

"Ain't no point keepin' 'em alive if we can't get any useful information out of 'em."

"Look, I think she was serious. Just, please . . . don't kill this one. I don't want to have to break you out of jail again."

"Don' need yer help ta break outta jail."

"Please?"

The older man looked up and sighed. "A'right. Fine. I won't kill 'im. Bein' a do-gooder's made you soft, boy."

"I was never kill-crazy like some people I could mention. And obeying the law isn't being soft."

"They've ruined ya. Damn Nova Corps. C'mon in, Doc, it's safe!"

Peter was surprised to see Corfla; as far as he knew, the Ravager medic hadn't set foot on Xandar since being stripped of his medical license and all but cast off the planet. He was carrying his customary bag, a concerned look on his face.

"And how are we today, dear boy?"

"Oh, can't complain," he said with a wave of his hand.

Corfla said nothing, but Yondu gave Peter a look that meant "cut the bull."

"I mean, I'm pretty weak, and the medic here said it was dehydration, but it's not like I'm gonna die or anything."

"You let me be the judge of that," said the medic, who did a quick scan. "Hmm, looks like simple exhaustion, coupled with moderate dehydration. You haven't been taking care of yourself, have you?"

"Well, it's a bit hard to worry about that when I've got someone trying to kill me!" he snapped, a little more harshly than he had intended.

Yondu smacked him on the back of the head. "That don't mean you gotta do their damn job for 'em!"

"Captain, please." Corfla rummaged through his bag and came up with an ampoule of clear liquid. "This should get you sorted. Get you on the way, anyway. Where did I put that Number Seven?" He poked around in the bag some more and came up with a medium-sized syringe. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, lad, but it's not available in pill form. I'll try to make it quick."

"Do you have to?" Peter eyed the needle warily.

In response, Corfla bent down until they were eye to eye. "Do you trust me, Peter?"

"Of course."

"There you go. Now, I'll count from five as soon as it's ready." He pierced the vial with the tip of the syringe and drew a small amount of the liquid into the chamber. "All right, now. Five, four-"

The door burst open suddenly and the Xandarian medic angrily strode into the room. "Hold it right there!"

Right behind him was Nova Prime. Peter groaned.

"Is there a problem?" Corfla asked.

"Dr. Ka'a," said the Prime, "your license to practice medicine on Xandar was terminated thirty years ago."

"Thirty-four, actually. But who's counting?"

"You are putting this patient's life in danger!" the medic sputtered.

"It's just a simple metabolic stabilizer. Have a look if you don't believe me." He held the bottle out, but the furious medic ignored him.

"I knew this arrangement was a bad idea! We should have moved him to a hospital right away instead of this . . . subterfuge!"

"Oh, really?" Yondu growled. "You forget he's got someone tryin' ta kill 'im?"

"Yeah, that was kind of the point," said Peter. Someone was supposed to be bringing him lunch, weren't they? Or was it dinner? What time was it? "Besides, you agreed to it."

"I didn't know you'd have unauthorized persons," he said, with a glare at Corfla, "treating you!"

The Ravager medic said calmly, "I'm the only one who knows the past twenty-six years of the boy's medical history."

"Need I remind you that you lost your license for killing a patient?"

"It was an act of conscience. I could not let that monster return to his home planet and order the extermination of another race simply because his people ran out of room!"

"You should have been at the very least imprisoned for what you did!"

"Check my records over the last thirty years. Though I've lost patients, I've saved many more lives. I regret what I did, but not why I did it. The man ordered the slaughter of women and children who'd done nothing to him except exist. The universe is better off without him."

"That was not your call to make! A physician's primary duty is to preserve life no matter whose!"

"Enough!" Nova Prime stepped between them. "Dr. Metla, will you administer the medication yourself?"

"What is this?" The medic turned the vial over in his hand. "Wouldn't tahexaline be a more effective stabilizer?"

"Only if you want to kill him," said Corfla. "He's allergic to it. As anyone who was actually familiar with his records would know."

"How do I know you're not just making that up?"

"I'll show you." He pulled a data pad out of his bag, called up the relevant material, and handed it over. "Right there, on the line that says 'Known allergies and sensitivities.' Thankfully there aren't as many as there once were."

"You're still a murderer," Dr. Metla snapped.

To his surprise, Corfla simply nodded. "And I only had to put an end to one individual to become the most wanted man in the galaxy. The entire Spartax Empire is out for my head."

"You sound like you're proud of it."

"He is," said Peter. "He's a total badass. I've known that for years."

At that moment, two things happened simultaneously. The first was that a call came in on Yondu's private line. "Scuse me," he said, stepping out into the hall. "I gotta take this."

He nearly collided with the Nova officer who had come running through the halls, red-faced and panting. Rocket and Groot were at his heels.

"Madame Prime," the officer gasped, leaning on the door frame, "there's a . . . disturbance . . . at the . . . hospital."

"What sort of disturbance?" she asked.

"Intruder. Disguised himself . . . as a doctor. Security's holding him now."

"Hot damn!" Yondu exclaimed as he ended his call. "We got the son of a bitch!"

At the looks the Nova personnel gave him, he amended, "I mean, we'll help yer people arrest 'im, ma'am."

Nova Prime sighed. "Very well. You may accompany us, but the suspect is not to be harmed."

"Not at all?"

"No!"

"I wasn't gonna kill him, but you won't even let me rough 'im up a little?"

"Mr. Udonta," she said, "I could have had you arrested the moment you set foot on this planet. I chose not to do that. Don't give me reason to reconsider."

"No, ma'am."

"I want to come." Peter started to get up, but both physicians moved to restrain him.

"Are you flarkin' kidding me?" snapped Rocket. "Quill, ya can't even sit up by yourself! I know how you feel, but the only way we could bring you there is on a stretcher, and that ain't happening."

"I have an idea," said Corfla. "If we could connect this," he held up the data pad, "to the receiver over there, we could set up a two-way link, and allow you to participate without having to leave your bed."

"Say no more." Rocket reached for the backpack he was wearing and rummaged around until he found a small pack that clanked when he set it on the floor. "I got this. I'll have it done before you get there. Groot, find me some three-mill wire and a small copper coin."

"I am Groot?"

"They gotta have one around here somewhere. You guys, go on. Don't worry about me. This'll take me five minutes, I promise you. Go get the bastard."

Rocket was better than advertised; he had the connection finished before the others had even left the building. They tested it successfully before entering the hospital and making their way to the small security office where the assassin was being held.

Nova Prime motioned the others back. "Do you know why you're here?" she asked him.

He swallowed hard. "He threatened my family. Said if I didn't do this, they would suffer. I couldn't let them be hurt for my mistake."

"Who told you? Who sent you on this mission?"

"I don't know his name! Older guy. Gray hair, beard, dresses like a religious leader. I only saw him once. Mostly we talked on the comm."

Yondu heard this description and went pale. "Can't be," he muttered.

Nova Prime looked at him curiously. "You know something about this?"

"Maybe. I dunno."

"Captain," Corfla said. "Perhaps we should switch on the link now?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Go ahead."

Corfla switched on the data pad, and instantly Peter's image filled the screen. "Can you hear us, my boy?"

"Yeah. Crystal-clear. Picture's great, too. Can I talk to him?"

"Be my guest." He moved closer and held the pad up.

"Who are you? Why were you trying to kill me? Who sent you?"

"What is this?"

"You wanna kill a man," said Yondu, "ya better look in his eyes. Look that boy in the eye and tell 'im what you did. An' why."

"I don't know him! I owed money, a lot of money, to Tarren Kriss."

"The loan shark? How'd ya get mixed up with that slimebucket? Even Ravagers don't do business with Kriss."

"I didn't have a choice. I needed a lot of money to pay back some gambling debts, without my spouse finding out. So I went to Kriss. He proposed a reasonable monthly payment . . ."

"But he charges five hundred percent interest," Yondu finished. "That's why we don't do business with 'im."

"So now I was in even more of a hole, and then a friend of a friend put me in touch with a man who promised to pay my entire debt if I would do him a favor. I agreed."

"How did you contact him?" asked Nova Prime.

"He called me. I gave my access code to Joh, who gave it to him. I never called him directly."

"When he called," Yondu said, "what was the access number he called from?"

"It was different every time."

The Centaurian nodded, but didn't share his insights with the rest of the group.

"We need all the information you have on anyone involved," said Nova Prime. "In return, your case will be looked upon with leniency. I can't promise you won't serve any prison time, but it will be less than the maximum sentence."

"That won't do me any good if Kriss finds me. And he will find me. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" Peter was confused, but Yondu saw the man open his mouth slightly, preparing to bite down.

"Oh, no ya don't! Not again! Doc, grab 'im!"

"Not this time!" Corfla moved faster than Peter had ever seen him, grabbing the assassin and prying his mouth open. He rooted around with his finger until he found a small white pill. "Got it!"

"Can't question a dead man," Yondu said. "Wish we'd 'a stopped that other guy in time."

"What other guy?" Rocket turned and looked at Peter, who tried to look innocent.

"Least we took care 'a him 'fore he got ta you. An' we didn't kill him, neither!"

"What's he talking about, Quill?"

Peter sighed, knowing the jig was up. "After the walk . . . when you guys were all gone on the job and left me alone, Yondu called and said there was another assassin headed my way. Then he called back a little while later and said the guy had been taken care of. So I didn't think you had to worry about it."

"I am Groot!"

"Yeah!" Rocket concurred. "You let us decide what to worry about! You trust us, don't ya? We're a team, ain't we?"

"I just didn't think it was a big deal!"

"Oh, you didn't think it was a big deal! Someone tries to kill you and you don't think it's a big deal?"

"I am Groot!" Groot pointed to the monitor.

"Yeah, we got better things to do right now," said Peter. "Is there anything else you can tell me," he asked the assassin, "about the guy who hired you?"

"No! Nothing! I told you, we only contacted each other through intermediaries!"

"So you don't know who he was? Didn't he even tell you his name?" Peter asked frantically.

"He did say one thing . . ." the would-be assassin said.

"What? Please!"

"Peter, you're getting too excited," Corfla cautioned him. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I just want the damn name! What did he tell you?"

"He said . . . he said he was your father."

"What?"

"Okay, we're done here." Corfla reached for the button that would sever the link.

"No, no, Doc, please, don't-"

But it was too late. The pad shut down, and Peter's protest was lost forever.

"Dammit!" Peter slammed his fist into the mattress. Or tried to; he was still so weak that it was more like a flail than a slam. "They're coming back here, aren't they?"

"I am Groot."

"Yes? No?"

"Not a clue," Rocket translated. "Guess we don't need this thing anymore." He started to take the receiver apart again. "I'll put it back the way it was. Maybe we can watch a movie or somethin'."

"A movie? That's what you're thinking about? That guy knows who my father is! It's only the mystery of my whole life here!"

"Will you calm down? You're s'posed to be resting!"

Peter flopped back onto the bed and sighed. "My whole life, I've wanted a dad. I even made one up to tell the kids at school about, but they never believed me. I thought he was gonna come back for me some day. But nothing."

"Yeah. So?"

"So, now I finally have a chance to find out who he really is, and I'm stuck here! My life sucks!"

"Got it!" Rocket had finished resetting the receiver, and now it was showing the opening titles of a movie about the Kree Wars. "This is a good one. Lots of explosions. C'mon, Quill, lighten up."

"We need any information you have," Nova Prime said to Yondu, "on the individual involved."

"I don't know 'im. Not really. Met him once, talked a bunch o' times. Like the man said, he don't give his name. Called me when he needed me."

"We need the records of all those calls."

"It was a diff'rent number every time! An' he had me meet 'im halfway. Never saw where he lived."

"So you . . . worked for this man?"

"Sorta. Did a bunch 'a deliveries for 'im. Stopped after awhile. Ain't heard from him in 'bout twenty-five years."

"If you remember anything else, no matter how small . . . you must tell us." Nova Prime gave Yondu a steely-eyed glare. "Hold nothing back."

"I told ya all I know! Ma'am."

She sighed. "Fine. You're dismissed. We'll take care of . . . our friend here."

"Fine with me. C'mon, Doc." As the medic fell into step beside him, Yondu muttered, "That woman reminds me of my Nanny."

"Oh? Were you close to your grandmother?"

"Not my grandma! My Nanny! She was in charge 'a all the slave kids. Didn't miss nothin'. Scared the hell outta me." He turned and glanced at Nova Prime's retreating back. "That one's the same way. I hope we don't never have ta deal with her again."

"I hope so, too," she called to him over her shoulder.

Yondu started walking a little faster. He leaned in and whispered to Corfla, "See what Ah mean? Don't miss a thing!"

Gamora had finally brought Peter his dinner, which was a bland sort of oatmeal mush, but he insisted on holding the bowl and feeding himself.

"I can do this."

"I'll be right here if you need any help."

"Okay."

At least it was warm. Cold bland mush would have been impossible for him to eat, but warm, it was easier to swallow. Gamora sat in the chair, watching him and sharpening her knives.

"Rocket tells me," she said, "that there was another assassination attempt, while we were away."

"Furry little snitch," Peter muttered. "Not exactly an attempt. Yondu intercepted him, and the guy killed himself rather than talk. So no harm done."

"You still should have told us."

"What's the point? Guy was dead. I didn't think it was worth worrying you about."

Gamora very carefully set both her knives on the floor and then grabbed Peter by the hair. "If you ever," she hissed, "keep something like this from us again, I will kill you myself!"

"Ow ow owwww! Let go!"

"Promise you will tell us about any more such incidents in the future!"

"Okay, okay! I promise! Leggo already!"

She released him and stared directly into his eyes. "Peter," she said, "don't you trust us?"

"Of course I do. I just-"

"Then why did you not trust us with this information?"

"Because I'm tired of being treated like some precious artifact shut away from the rest of the world! I want to live my life! I don't want to be afraid anymore! I can't eat, I can't sleep, I'm jumping at every little noise and peering around corners wondering where the shot's gonna come from! I'm sick of it! I just want this nonsense to end, once and for all!"

Unbeknownst to them, Yondu had been outside the door, waiting to come in. When he heard Peter's speech, he realized that there was something he could do about it. He could end this himself, and the boy would never have to know.

"Gotta go take care 'o somethin'," he said to Corfla. "Tell 'im I'll stop by once more 'fore we go an' check on 'im. I'll be back."

"Yes, sir." Corfla didn't ask where his captain was going. He wouldn't have told him anyway. The Ravager medic knocked twice on the door and then poked his head in.

"Everything all right in here?"

Gamora and Peter exchanged startled looks. "Yeah," Peter said. "Everything's fine. Just finishing my dinner here . . . such as it is."

"You look a bit better."

"I feel better. How much longer am I gonna be stuck here?"

"I estimate another two full days of rest before you're able to move. After that, you may return to your ship, as long as you remember to keep a regular eating and sleeping schedule. Don't let it go like this again. Trust in your friends to protect you. And remember that we're only one call away."

"I will."

"Speaking of which, the captain said he'd be in momentarily. Something he had to take care of. He wasn't more specific."

Peter nodded. "I probably don't want to know."

"Pick up the damn phone, ya jackass!"

Yondu dialed the access code for the third time, with the same result. The party he was trying to reach either wasn't home or was screening his calls.

"I know it's been a long time, but I gotta talk to ya! Pick! Up!"

He tried a fourth time and still had no luck. Never being one to give up easily, the Ravager captain tried again, and again.

"Don't make me come find ya. You'll be sorry we ever met. And if ya ever mess with Peter again, I'll kill ya myself."

But he was talking to himself. There was still no answer.

In the middle of the night, Peter woke from a half-remembered dream and sat up suddenly, startling the hell out of Drax, who was currently watching over him.

"He has enemies!"

"Who does?" Drax was on his feet, weapon in hand, instantly.

Peter took a deep breath before responding. "My father. You remember when I was here about a month ago, when I was poisoned?"

"I remember."

"The doctor who was treating me said . . ." He struggled to remember. "She said something about my father having enemies."

"Everyone has enemies."

"Don't you get it? She knows who he is! I gotta talk to her!"

"I will go get her for you."

"No, wait-"

But Drax was already gone. Peter flopped back on the bed and wondered if he'd just made a big mistake.

TO BE CONTINUED!