AN: You all have the patience of saints and I thank everyone who has stayed along for the ride with this story! Thank you for reading, and thank you x1000 for reviewing! Hope you're enjoying!

Chapter 5: And the stars look very different today

"You're- what?" is all Peter manages, rising to his feet with some difficulty before leaning his weight back against the med bed. He eyes the man before him apprehensively. "That doesn't make any sense. You tried to kill me."

"I didn't," Ego counters, not unkindly. He's a handsome man and one of great importance, if his adornment of intricate armor and a regal looking cape are anything to go off of. The image only baffles Peter all the more. "I apologize for your fall, Peter- it was never my intention to harm you. For the past several days I've been simply trying to connect with you. Speaking to you directly, however, has proven more difficult than I'd hoped. The glimpses you've seen of Meredith... well, she's one of the many things we share, you and I. I suppose our collective mind decided that her memory was a good common ground."

"Collective mind...? Alright. And here I was worrying that I've lost my shit. Glad to see that's clearly not the case," Peter mutters.

"I'm sorry this process has taken such a toll on you, son; but rest assured, this is all very much real."

"Yeah. That'll sure help me sleep tonight. I don't know what planet you're from, but it ain't normal for me to start seeing my mother out of the blue because she's dead," Peter says heatedly. "She's been dead over ten years. Seriously, there weren't any slightly less creepy ways to get in touch? You couldn't just meet me, like, normally?"

Ego sighs. "To keep things simple for the moment... no. For more reasons than one, I couldn't just meet with you. That's why I hired the Aedian- the one you encountered on Moonteg." His hands are clasped easily behind his back and he's maintained a respectful distance from Peter. Probably for the best, as Peter hasn't yet 100% dropped the notion of fighting him. "She holds special talents that have allowed us this 'bridge', so to speak. Though I haven't had much control over when or where we connect because.. it's an iffy business, linking consciousnesses. Harder than you'd think."

Ego locks earnest eyes with Peter. "But you're not imagining this, my boy. Your mind has simply been bound to my own. And I'm here, now. I'm here."

Peter's mother had always said that his father was an angel, composed out of pure light. That he was a busy man, one burdened with the duty of ruling over all the stars; but when time allowed for it, she'd said, he'd be back to retrieve Peter.

Ego is currently looking Peter over with what looks like the fondest of pride.

"You're my father," Peter clarifies. The title tumbles awkwardly out his mouth.

Ego doesn't seem to notice. His smile is genuine and it lights his entire face. "In the flesh. Well, so to speak."

A war of emotions stirs within Peter but anger is the first to reach the surface. "Why now? What do you want from me now? I waited for you. What stopped you from coming earlier?"

"Peter, I have been looking for you for years. Ever since your mother passed. But certain factors haven't exactly made it easy for me."

Peter's head spins. Most likely from the concussion. But the situation definitely isn't helping.

"Look, I just... I don't know how I'm supposed to take all this right now."

"Smart lad. I can't fault you for being skeptical," Ego nods his approval. "You'll need proof, of course. We've only just met and have much to discuss. I never expected you to accept this all in one go."

Footsteps are heard coming from down the hall leading to the med bay. Ego begins to back away from Peter. "Think on it, Peter," he implores, tapping a finger to his own temple. "I'm happy to answer all your questions soon. I'll never be far. Go somewhere tonight where we can talk- alone. Don't want the others thinking you're crazy, now, do we?"

"A little late for that," Peter murmurs. But he doesn't refuse the offer.

The door to the med bay swings open. "Look who's up 'n walkin'. Mornin', Princess Pete," Kraglin greets casually. He pauses, taking in Peter's wary stance against the bed with some amusement. "What's up? You look like you just saw one of them 'ghosts'."

Ego, indeed unseen and unheard by Kraglin, winks playfully as he steps into the shadows cast in the room. They're larger than Peter remembers.

"No ghosts here, son," Ego assures before the darkness swallows him whole. "I am very much alive."

"I'm positive, man. I got dizzy, I lost my footing and I fell. It was a stupid accident," Peter says. He shifts in his seat, trying not to mess with the sling put on to allow his broken clavicle to heal. "I don't see why you think I'd cover for any of those morons, anyway. Pretty sure I'd be happy enough to rat on someone who pushed me down a freakin' mountain."

Yondu pinches the bridge of his nose tightly. The guy's been doing that an awful lot lately. "You said someone slipped you somethin' on Moonteg. Them boys were with us on Moonteg. A week later and your neck is nearly snapped after workin' alongside those same boys. Plus, most of this crew don't like you none, boy. It don't take a genius to put two 'n two together."

Peter sighs out loudly and dramatically as if this has been the longest conversation he's ever partaken in. His half-assed lie has made things unnecessarily difficult. He attempts to put an end to it all with an equally half-assed lie. "Honestly? I don't think any of them 'slipped' me anything in the first place. I'm pretty sure I remember it being a girl. A random girl at the bar gave me that drink. Maybe she's a sadist? Maybe she takes offense to handsome Terrans? Who knows, really. Not like I'll ever see her again, anyway."

"What?! Stars help me, Quill. Why in the blazin' hell did I go and waste precious time inquirin' all these idiots, then?"

"I didn't ask you to do that," Peter replies, incredulous. "I never said any of the crew was out to kill me. That entire drastic jump to the worst possible conclusion was all you, you paranoid maniac."

"You didn't have to say nothin'. You've got the self-preservation instincts of a wee, blind baby slug. So I had to infer it for myself with what you gave me. Which was pure horseshit, apparently," Yondu glares grumpily down at Peter.

Yondu definitely doesn't even know what a horse is- much less what their shits are like. He's picked up that phrase up from Peter. Come to think of it, Peter's never received his well-earned credit for bringing so many colorful new Terran additions to this nasty-ass gang of pirates' speak.

"I'm sorry, okay? I honestly didn't remember before. I only remembered her after I hit my head."

"That ain't how concussions work. That there's the opposite of how concussions work."

"Whatever. I don't know the science behind it. All I know is that's how it worked for me." He tries to end all questioning there and then. "'Besides, I do feel better. Inside my head, I mean. I haven't been hallucinating or anything anymore."

Yondu simply watches him for a long moment. Long enough to make Peter squirm a bit. "Doc did a couple of tests," the captain says finally with a sniff. "Nothin' looked outta sorts. No traces of weird drugs swimmin' 'round your system. No signs of poison." His eyes narrow at Peter. "What I wanna know is why you didn't tell him what was goin' on with you. He was supposed to clear your spacey ass for that mission."

Peter opts to play plain old dumb, here. "I dunno," he shrugs. "It was embarrassing."

Yondu gives a long suffering sigh, rolling his eyes heavenward as he places hands on his knees to boost himself to standing. "No more embarrassin' than faintin' yourself off the top of a mountain like a damn girl. Fuckin' princess." But he seems to well enough accept Peter's word that his withholding information from Doc was simply some dumb, teenage method of protecting his own bravado. "Whatever. You say you're fine, then you're fine. But hear this, brat; you cost me good money by bein' pulled out of that mission early. Could've carried away more crystals, but instead, we got stuck carryin' your lard ass. Anythin' like that happens again and you're bein' bunked next to Taserface. And you're pickin' all them cute li'l bugs out of Halfnut's hair. Both for life! Kapeesh?"

"Ew and ew," Peter gags theatrically. He doesn't loathe anyone on this ship more than he does Taserface. And Halfnut is the greasiest bastard to ever set foot on the Eclector. "Mercy, old man."

For whatever reason, that sends Yondu cackling. "Aw, boy, I got me plenty of mercy. Mercy that'd make the gods green with envy. Any of them would've struck you down with lightnin' years ago." He eyeballs Peter's sling and bruises pointedly. "More trouble than you've ever been worth, Quill."

Peter waits until just before midnight to make his way up to the 'stargazing' port of the ship. At least, that's what he calls it. An empty room, minus some storage boxes, that has some of the best window views on the ship. No one's ever seemed to use it. No one except him, usually as a place to hide away once he'd grown too large to squeeze himself into the ships vents any longer.

Quietly as he can, he heads up metallic steps to find Ego waiting for him as promised. The man sits cross-legged as he observes the sky before them.

"I haven't had the chance to leave home in awhile," Ego says as Peter stops uncertainly somewhere behind him. "Beautiful, isn't it? The complexity of space. Yet, the simplicity. The ways in which it's able to make us feel simultaneously in awe and utterly... small. Alone."

Peter clears his throat. Suddenly he's feeling much more nervous than he'd realized about this whole thing. "Why haven't you been able to leave your home?"

"I'd be happy to show you it one day," Ego says, "my planet. I grow weaker when I leave it. If I were to try and stay away too long, an important part of me would die away."

"Which is... why we're talking this way, instead, right? Inside my head?"

Ego looks to him apologetically. "It wasn't my intention to frighten you. Certainly not to make you question your sanity. But, yes; I hired Yarit- the Aedian- to seek you out so that she could connect us this way. This gives me the chance to speak with you, to finally get to know you, while technically allowing me to remain on my planet. Yondu hasn't exactly made it easy for me to physically find you. Moves you around too much."

His face darkens as he turns back to the sky. "He was one of my hires, as well. Eleven years ago. I asked him to pick you up from Earth, to bring you to me once your mother passed, and he never did. I haven't a clue why he backed out on our deal."

Yondu.

So Yondu had known?

Peter's asked about his father no more than twice since his arrival on the Eclector.

And- if everything Ego is saying is true- then Yondu had fucking known.

The first inquiry had been between Peter's tears and hollers as he'd been dragged against his fighting will onto the ship. He'd taken one look at the captain before him and, even as the man was blue with a crooked grin that matched Peter's none, he'd asked if he was his father. (Really, what was Peter supposed to think, then? It had been mere minutes since his mother had promised that his dad, the space man of all things, was coming to pick him up.) The notion had been shut down immediately by harsh, mocking laughter from the men all around. Peter's only response was to knee one of his captors in the balls and bite right through another one's hand. He'd then run off to discover just how well he could fit himself into the vents of the ship.

That was as well as his first few weeks had gone. For days straight he'd yelled, yelled, yelled until he was blue in the face. Wailed for his mother. Screamed at the crew when they taunted him, when they dared reach for his Walkman. Cursed Yondu with everything he had; Yondu, who could never be bothered to give a good enough reason as to why he'd snatched Peter from home before his mother's body could even go cold.

Eventually, these days met their end. As did Peter's constant yelling. In their place began his many, many questions.

One of them being Peter's final father related inquiry: "Is my dad ever coming to get me?"

Yondu hadn't even spared Peter a glance as he'd polished up his latest gun. "You finally quit your bellerin', and now you're gonna waste all that extra breath by askin' me stupid questions? I don't know a thing 'bout your daddy."

"It's not stupid," Peter had insisted fiercely. He'd straightened himself to his full height, all four feet and two inches of it. This had been during a short period of time when, after he'd lost his mother to it, Peter did not fear death. Death would have allowed him to be with her again.

This very brief period meant that, likewise, he did not fear Yondu.

"My mama told me all about him. Told me he's king of the stars. And that he's comin' for me any day, now."

Yondu had laughed, loud and ugly, the sound ringing in Peter's ears until he felt steam coming out of them. "King of the stars, eh? Didn't know them balls of gas needed rulin' over. Sounds like your mama liked to spin up fancy tales."

"No." Peter wouldn't rise to the bait. Plenty of people had called Mom crazy before she'd died. But the stories of his father were ones she'd told Peter long before she'd ever gotten sick. "She wouldn't have made that up."

"Uh huh. Alright. King of the fuckin' stars, then. If that's true, then he sounds like an important man. Busy. Too important and too busy to want you none."

"What do you know?" Peter had countered, balling up his tiny fists. No matter that this type of lip had already gotten him pummeled more than a few times already. "Just because you don't give a crap doesn't mean my dad doesn't, either." Yondu, infuriatingly, kept on polishing his gun as if Peter was nothing more than bothersome background noise. "Know what? Nevermind. I don't have to prove anything to you, you stupid, old blue jerk. You'll see when he gets here. You'll see how much he does want me once he takes me away from you."

He must have said something right (or, perhaps, something very wrong). Because Yondu had set aside his gun, then, sauntering over to crouch down before Peter until he was eye level. With one finger he'd snagged the front of Peter's tattered, grease stained shirt and yanked him forward until they were practically nose to nose. His breath had hit Peter's face, hot and putrid, heavy with those strange orange cigars he liked to smoke whenever they stopped planetside.

"You want the truth so bad, you lippy, Terran runt? Here's your truth," he'd rasped, his mocking mood having dissipated into one more grave. "Turns out I do know one thing 'bout your daddy. Wherever- and whoever- he is, he don't give a fuck about you. Not one. Ain't no one comin' for you. Not him. Not no 'king of the stars'. Not your dead mama or her fancy stories, neither." He'd reiterated this with a shake of Peter's shirt. "We're it. We're what came for you. We picked you up. And you? You're gonna quit your useless daydreamin' over shit that ain't ever gonna come to pass. Got it?"

He'd ended this pep talk of the year by lazily releasing Peter and giving him a too-hard pat on the shoulder. More of a push, really, one that nearly knocked Peter right over. As if he'd just done the child some huge favor.

Peter had clearly been unable to hide the hatred from his face. He'll never forget Yondu's strange grin at the sight of it. Not a happy look; just his nasty set of teeth, yellow mixed with gold, all bared down at Peter, who was assuredly tomato red with rage. "Hate me, do ya?" Yondu's approving smirk had left Peter confused more than anything. "There are better things out there to hate. You'll learn that. But I'm as good a place as any to start." He hocked a massive loogie that landed itself next to Peter's left sneaker. "Go on, boy. Go on 'n hate me all you damn well like."

And he had. In moments such as those, he'd come to hate Yondu almost more than anyone and anything else.

Sometimes, he still does. Certainly not always. Definitely not as ferociously as he'd done in his first few weeks aboard the ship. Now, instead, it's something more deeply festered, something much quieter. More of a simmering resentment.

But that older, fiercer feeling awakens a bit as he answers Ego in the present. The words are ones he's said before, but they suddenly taste more bitter than ever: "I can guess. I was a small, skinny kid, and I could fit in places other crew couldn't. I was a kickass little thief. I helped earn him a profit."

That selfish, lying jackass had known.

Ego shakes his head in Peter's shared disbelief that someone would willingly keep a child from their parent for such a reason. Peter temporarily pushes his asshole of a captain from mind and takes this chance to look at Ego for a bit. Really look at him.

He almost reminds Peter of a younger Santa Claus; friendly faced and bearded with twinkling blue eyes. Nothing about his appearance screams 'threat', but a part of Peter remains stubbornly guarded nonetheless. "I've gotta ask- how exactly am I supposed to trust that you weren't trying to kill me earlier? And that you're not just going to try again?"

"Oh, Peter," Ego says, rising to his feet to face him fully. "You should know that I'm no ordinary man. And that means neither are you. We're Celestials. If I wanted to kill you... well, I certainly wouldn't have sent you tumbling down a cliff! You're immortal, son."

Peter blinks once. Twice. "Celestials? So... like, gods?"

Ego chuckles at Peter's mixed state, somewhere between rising excitement and lingering doubt. "I'll prove it," he declares, striding over until he's face to face with Peter. Something hopeful flits across the man's face. "I'm not entirely certain this will work here," he muses, taking Peter's one hand free from the sling, turning it gently so that it's palm is up. Peter, other than involuntarily stiffening a bit, allows it. "But lets test the strength of this link of ours. I'm going to have you try something. Something simple. Close your eyes, son; I'll need you to concentrate."

Peter, making the reluctant decision to trust, obeys and closes his eyes.

"Breathe. Focus your energy on this connection we have."

Vague. But he gives it a try, anyways. Focuses on the feel of Ego's hand under his own.

Long moments later and Peter can feel it; a hint of the same sensation as when the Aedian woman had touched his face. The electricity trickling down to shoot through his fingertips and toes. Images of colorful planets flash before him; each of them circle around him, and the stars are so close he could reach out and touch them. The abruptness of it all causes him to jump in surprise and his eyes snap open to see, in his outstretched hand, the smallest of blue sparks.

Tiny. But it's blue glows brightly enough to entirely illuminate the delight on Ego's face.

"Peter," he breathes, and if he'd looked at Peter with pride before, now he looks as though he'll absolutely burst with it. His grip on Peter's hand tightens ever so slightly. "It is so good to have found you."