Peter plans.

He can't bring his friends into this, that he decides right away.
Maybe he's still too used to doing it all on his own, but even after a year spent in their company, all his thoughts are about how he, Peter, can pull this off – not them together. Besides, how do you even explain that your father is a monstrous, civilization-devouring, minor god without getting declared crazy (or worse, tipping your father off that you're maybe not quite as happy with his plans as you let on.)

Show them the light and hope for the best?
Call Yondu to serve as a character witness?

Yeah no, they will never believe him and Xandar will be toast.

(Sure, maybe Gamora would believe him…
But people have at least heard of Thanos, his crazy is well known. Ego's isn't – and Ego is charming and Peter has played the fool far too well for far too long and is known to tell a few tall tales now and then.
He will never be taken seriously when it comes down to his word against Ego's.)

Also, moon-destroying Hadron Enforcer-jokes aside (and that damn thing didn't even scratch Ronan, Peter's still miffed with Rocket about that), what would they even do against a fucking planet?

Set down their feet extra hard?
Kick some grass?
Piss in the fountains?

Let's face it, everything even vaguely human-sized is nothing but a liability on Ego, nothing but potential hostages, smushed-frogs-to-be.

Heck, Peter himself is at a distinct disadvantage and he's at least a Celestial himself.
He has no idea how he should pull this off!

No, that's a lie.

He has an idea. A terrible idea.

A horrible idea that scares him almost as badly as Ego himself.

Almost.

So no, his team is out.

But maybe, just maybe, if Yondu really is as worried about Ego as he seems (he's still calling Peter every few hours, given that Peter had no time to message him back yet), Peter won't have to do this completely on his own anyway.

(Silver-linings have never seemed as important as now…)

In the end, it's easier to leave to set his plan in motion than he first dreaded it would be.

Apparently Peter's father has finally found a solution to his insomnia: his very own little Wendy telling him bedtime stories and singing him lullabies, soothing him to sleep with nothing but a touch (but no smile, because what had that poor little girl to smile about anyway?).

Peter meets her in the hallway in front of his father's room, plastic expression in place, eyes big and dark and full of fear, because she's the only being on this whole planet that has even the faintest idea what Ego and by implication Peter are actually capable of. (And Peter hates seeing this fear being directed at him. He always wanted to be respected, yes, but never ever feared.)

She looks up to him with those dark, dark eyes and his breath catches in his throat, because this is his fault and he can never make it right again. He can just try to make it better. (He wonders, just for a moment, if this is how Yondu felt when he had pressed a communicator in an eight-years-old's dirty, little hands.)

He carefully takes her hand (and ignores the aborted little flinch that threatens to break his heart all over again), because as much as he hates frightening her, he needs her to know that he's sincere.

I'm sorry, he tells her. I'm so, so sorry.
I thought he would get a dog!

Peter's not sure what exactly she's sensing from him, can't bring himself to stick around for long enough to witness it lest he loses his resolve to pull through with his plan at all – but when he chances a last glimpse back, right before rounding the corner, he can just see all the different tears starting to run down her face that he can't allow himself to let fall…

Even if he hates the reason for it, a part of Peter feels almost glad to be on his own again.
Looking after others, looking out for others is hard and Peter's very used to only being responsible for himself.

Also, since somehow acquiring a bunch of hanger-ons, most of his jobs have gained the unfortunate tendency to devolve into shouting, shooting and explosions at some point (and not always in this particular order).

As a squishy almost-Terran, this is not really Peter's area of expertise (even if he has adapted remarkably well, if he may say so himself).

But this?

This will be more like his operations of old, small and quiet (at least for the first part) and full of sleight of hand and misdirection.
He will get in, get out and hopefully nobody will know what he really was after until it's already too late.

He hesitates for just one moment, torn between carrying on and seeing his friends one last time before everything will go to hell – but he decides against in the end, scared that he will lose his nerve if he lets himself get distracted from his goal.

Even now he can feel his insides quaking.

His first destination is Xandar's famous nature reserve, because after having saved the planet already once he's kind of invested in its future survival, even in the event that he should fail with his actual mission. (And maybe, if he fails and they don't get converted into Ego 2.0 right away out of the blue they will even have a fighting chance.)

Now that he knows what to expect and what to look for, getting through the security is easy as pie (Thank you, Denarian Dey.) and in no time at all he stands in front of Ego's spore, glowing innocently in the darkness of the night. Peter's an expert in uprooting these things efficiently and quickly by now, but just for a moment he's tempted to just burn it and the whole reserve to the ground, just to make sure that he really gets all of it.

He's tempted, oh so tempted, but he doesn't in the end, because even if he doesn't really understand the value of all these plants and animals beyond "Oh, pretty!", he would never take them from the Xandarians for nothing but a bit of petty revenge.

(But he does understand, doesn't he?
After all, he would do almost everything to see an actual daisy again, wouldn't he? A real Terran tree? A dog? A bird?
Hell, he would be willing to kill for the memory of the taste of apples alone sometimes…

And isn't this whole mission in the end about preserving what is and what once was so that there will be a future worth living for in the end?)

Peter just absorbs the spore like so many before, secure in the knowledge that there are so many of these things out there that Ego won't even notice one missing, not even one that got extinguished right next to him (Seriously, Peter must have gotten rid of at least a hundred by now and his father hadn't even mentioned it.), fiddles with the security systems a bit and then makes his way back into the city.

Time for step two of his plan.

He hands are shaking so hard, he almost sets off an alarm anyway.

The exact location of the Infinity Stone is probably one of the Nova Corps best kept secrets.

Officially, all that Peter knows is that it is in some kind of vault somewhere, constantly guarded by tech and Corpsmen alike.

Unofficially, years of operating on the "wrong" (Peter prefers calling it "more flexible" or "more exiting") side of the law have given him enough experience to know that Nova Prime would have wanted to keep it close, where she herself could have a constant eye on it rather than bury it on some distant outpost, and where reinforcements were always just one frantic SOS away.

(At least if said reinforcements weren't currently busy racing to a certain nature reserve whose alarms just reported a massive break-in, followed by a – purely fictional, Peter's no monster – spot of arson. The false alarm alone would probably have kept them occupied for long enough, but once they discover the missing spore they will probably go out of their nerdy little minds and not worry about anything else for a while.)

Anyway, neither the official nor unofficial state of Peter's knowledge are really important, because really unofficially (need-to-know as in only-Peter-needs-to-but-doesn't-actually-wants-to-know) you could probably drop him at some random point of the universe and he would be able to point you not only in the right direction to the Stone but also give you a rough estimate of just how far it is away.

His breath shortens whenever he thinks too long about it and now is no exception.

So in no time at all he wanders through the halls of the building containing the Infinity Stone, nodding cheerfully to the Corpsmen he meets in the public levels and sneaking past those he meets in the secure and secret areas. Some of his toys that haven't seen much use since his Ravager-days ease him along the way and keep him off the security screens. (And Peter would be willing to bet a lot of units that by now, thanks to all those explosions and world-savings happening in the last year, most people have forgotten that he started out as a thief and a successful one at that – even if that fact had damned him to a life of anonymity.)

Standing in front of the vault doors brings back surprisingly nostalgic feelings, reminding him of another vault door he faced in what seems like a lifetime ago now. Sure, the twitching guards lying on the floor left and right from him are new and Morag wasn't nowhere near as well lit, but the general feeling is the same. Dark and foreboding and warning any would-be-thief away by the atmosphere alone.

And the price?
The price on the other side of these thick, secure doors is still the same.

There's a thorny little lump in the middle of his chest, cold and heavy and sending a shiver down his back with every breath he takes.

The blazing miniature sun beyond the doors in front of him seems to laugh delightedly and beckons to him with the bright purple promise of heat and power!

Peter takes a deep breath, rubs his sweaty hands dry on his pants, then places them carefully on the vault door.
The Nova Corps has too good tech down here to open the door the Ravager-way, but that's okay, that's fine, Peter's been training and experimenting since he ended up locked out on the Dark Aster with no idea what to do and this… should be… doable… maybe… if he just…

The force-field is the first to go, shuddering and twisting and unraveling like one of Mom's old lumpy pullovers after she caught it on some chicken wire. He's careful with it, catching the excess energy and channeling it right back into the locking mechanism instead of into the energy grid of the building. The alarm impulses get caught in a loop to chase themselves, trying to tell each other over and over again that "something's wrong, no nothing's wrong, nothing to see here, what's going on" while the door-lock fizzles and sparks and falls open with heavy, final sound.

Peter comes back for air, smirks at the stunned not-expressions on the four helmets turning in his direction and slides a gravity mine into the middle of the room. Some graceless flailing, frightened shouts and four shots later and he steps over the unconscious Corpsmen to the safe in the middle of the room.

(One day – should he survive this and walk away as a free man afterwards, which he kind of doubts – he should sit down with Nova Prime and some of her immediate minions and go with them over every single security feature they have and why and how exactly they suck.
He will demand a pretty penny for it and probably have way more fun than should be allowed and they will certainly not want to see his face for at least a few years afterwards, but hey, the truth hurts more often than not and this, this was far too easy for an Infinity Stone and is – plainly spoken – just sad all around.)

Like usual, life just loves to throw him curve-balls, because (naturally) this is the moment he hears his name shouted behind him.
And well, would you look at that, it's Denarian Saal.

Peter's honestly not sure what to make of his expression, some weird mixture of shock, affront, disbelief, vindication, regret and several kinds of anger. Doesn't really matter though, because, like the good little soldier he is, he's already one hand at his communicator.

And Peter can't have that.

He reacts without thinking, shooting the Denarian with the gun in his hand while at the same time unleashing his light on every single energy source in the room.

Circuits overload, burst and sizzle, force-fields explode in countless vanishing pieces and the communicator sparks violently and dies. (So do Peter's guns. Damn.) The room goes abruptly dark and there should be alarms going off any second now, calling in reinforcements (And Peter's just fried his weapons, great…) but –

– but as Peter desperately tries to reel his light in before it shuts down the whole building, his consciousness brushes against something else, something warm and vaguely familiar that he felt once before: The Worldmind or at least what he thinks is the Worldmind.

It takes notice of the intruder, takes notice of the alarms shrieking for its attention – and shuts them down, turning its attention deliberately away and trusting Peter with the most dangerous thing in the known universe.

Protect, protect, protect Xandar, it sings, softly, as if reminding him of a pact made ages ago.

And it's good, it's great, Peter's already going to fight one planet today, he wasn't aiming on making it two… but he can't decide if the lump in his throat at the show of implicit trust is warm, fuzzy gratitude or bitter, choking guilt…

The room is pitch-black now and Peter thanks all his lucky stars (Ha ha…) that his mask uses no energy at all until actually activated and therefore escaped the great Blackout of Peter Quill. (And that he only aimed his little impromptu EMP outwards because brains and exploding translator chips probably don't mix… Also, ew!)

Anyway, putting it on shows him Denarian Saal groaning on the floor, only half-conscious from a charge that got partly snuffed out while it was still working its magic (or Peter only clipped him – nah, it clearly was the light) and one really heavily armored safe that nobody will ever get opened again without using heavy machinery.

Or getting creative.

Peter grimaces, prays to all major gods that this will work and channels the starshine-brightness tingling in his fingertips into heat.

A short time later Peter steps out of the Nova Corps building, the orb containing the Stone safely tucked away in his jacket (far too close to his heart for comfort and he swears that he can feel its energy playfully licking over his skin even through the heavy shielding), and nobody the wiser.

The night is mild and peaceful, Xandar's inhabitants are ambling along and minding their own business like usual and nobody even suspects that somebody just robbed one of the most fortified places of the Nova Empire and relieved them of their most dangerous artifact.

(If Peter weren't so terrified and sad and guilty and… things, he would be almost proud.)

Time for step three.

There's no going back now.

Insides numb, he convinces himself that what he feels is conviction.

Resolve.

Determination.

It's terror instead.

Pure, all-consuming terror, but what choice does he have?

His last stop on Xandar is the port and here is where Peter's plan gets a bit… shaky because this is the one phase of this whole endeavor that he can't pull off completely on his own.

Ego won't sleep forever (in fact it's a minor miracle he slept as long as he did and he owes Mantis even more for giving him the time he needs) and once he wakes, he will be angry.

Maybe just annoyed, if he still thinks that Peter simply decided to sightsee a bit more on a whim, but once he finally figures out just what his errant son is up to, he will be mad enough to destroy all of Xandar in his rage.

Peter hopes – he really, really desperately hopes – that Ego's own inability to see anything not-Celestial as anything but insignificant will for once work in Peter's favor and that his father will be too focused to get his consciousness back to his body to bother with the people around him.

Because Peter has wondered for years just why exactly his father needed an actual space-ship to get from place to place and while he's not one-hundred percent sure, he's pretty certain that he's figured it out: He has no other choice.
Once Ego's consciousness has been actually transferred into an avatar, he's stuck there if he leaves his true brain behind.

Still, it can't be as easy as simply destroying the avatar and killing Ego at the same time or Peter's current problem would have solved itself neatly a long time ago (Because let's face it: Ego has been around for millennia and even a minor god must have messed up somewhere in that span of time. The universe is just as creative in creating new kinds of life as it is in killing it off and nobody can expect and prepare for everything that's out there.).

So, either Ego recreates his avatar anew every time it gets destroyed, like he would on his own planet (Peter doubts it. Did he mention that matter manipulation is hard, especially once away from Ego's core and his light?), or, without a hull to animate, the consciousness simply dissipates and gets returned to sender.

(And here's a thought, an important thought, a question half-reminding him of long-forgotten fairytales that Peter's going to test pretty soon: What's faster, light or thought?
Peter's betting on light or his father wouldn't use that big-ass space-egg to visit and infect the known and unknown universe.)

Anyway, his last stop on Xandar is the port and here is where Peter's plan gets a bit… shaky because while he needs to get to Ego-the-planet as soon as possible he also needs to keep Ego-the-man from destroying things and catching up from him.
And, just like Ego, Peter simply can't pull this off completely on his own.

But he isn't alone, isn't he?

More and more familiar faces show up among the night crowds (Space for Dummies 101, by Yondu Udonta for little ignorant Terran boys who ask far too many questions: Rule 439 – A species can be considered properly civilized and therefore looting-worthy when there are just as many people out at night as there would be in daytime. Unless the species was nocturnal to begin with, then it became a guessing game helped along by several sub-rules.), watching Peter just as he watches them, some nodding, some not, all with a grim look in their eyes that tells him that Yondu actually spilled the beans for once and that the Ravagers know exactly what will happen should they mess up.

(But they totally just saved Xandar for the pay-out Peter promised them, yes sir…)

Peter doesn't see Yondu until he enters the port proper and even then it is only from afar: As far as Peter can tell he's doing something nasty and probably explosive to Ego's ship and has the biggest canon Peter's ever seen resting almost casually by his side (A part of him wonders if Rocket has sold weapon specs again. After the last incident they had a long and painful discussion about it, and Peter had thought they had agreed that Rocket would never do it again, and yet…).

A part of Peter wants to stall, go over and (cling to him) say good-bye.

But the greater part, the part that stopped him from lingering by Mantis, from searching for his friends and from torching the reservation, the part that apparently decided that now was the best time to finally get all the pieces of Peter together and give this growing up-business a try, urges him onward.

'Later', it tells him, and Peter wants to laugh, to weep, because he knows 'later' and it is a limp hand and endless regrets and lost chances that haunt you for all of eternity.

Still, 'later' it is and so he continues on, passing by the Milano after just a second of hesitation (His very first Tinkerbell, his way to the stars, once, a life-time ago. But that was then and this is now and now there are more people calling her their home and he won't take that from them, even if he might just plan to destroy their world a little bit.) and further into the port where Kraglin waits next to a sleek, little ship built purely for speed Peter's never seen before - and Nebula, in Ravager-red.

(Peter's good, didn't he tell you? Really, really good.)

Nebula nods, face unreadable, while Kraglin opens his mouth, fumbles for a bit, and then closes it again, choosing to awkwardly pat Peter on the shoulder instead.

And Peter gets it: What do you say in a situation like this?

(Also, they are both Ravagers, they don't do this emotion-shit.)

So he just nods back, enters the ship and proceeds to leave Xandar, the Ravagers and his team (his family) behind, maybe forever this time.

The journey to Ego is quiet in a way Peter has gotten unused to.

Just a year with a team and suddenly the silence has become foreign, leaving room for far too many heavy thoughts and worries.

The Stone croons excitedly in his mind, painting the stars purple and straining against its cage.
'Soon', it knows and so does Peter.

The ultimate test and Peter is making sure that however it ends, he will win.
And yet, at the same time, it can only end up with him losing as well.

How much he will lose still stands to be determined.

He swallows and tries to listen to music, to his mother's last gift to him and he wonders if she knew.

He prays not, he thinks not, and yet…

For just a moment, Peter doubts.

He swallows and tries to listen to music, to his mother's last gift to him and he wonders if one of the songs on the cassette was for Ego and if his mom would approve of what Peter's about to do.

He hopes so, he thinks so, and yet…

Peter just so desperately wants to believe.

He listens to music and steels himself and part of him regrets that he never told Yondu, the man who sold him to a monster, the man who's right now doing his best to give Peter a headstart, that he's just as much of his dad as Ego is.

Because while Ego was always ready to give Peter everything he could have asked for, Yondu always gave him what Peter actually needed

Reality is splintering.

Everything seems to exist in snapshots:

Ego's grumpy face as Peter nears the planet.

The hollow feeling in Peter's chest when he lands and feels that Ego hasn't returned yet, that everything around him may look alive and inviting but is frozen in time, unanimated in Ego's absence and nothing more but a of a parody of life, a memorial of potential perverted.

The ground opening like a wound under Peter's hands (So easy, too easy after years alone in space. He wants, he wills and it happens.), deep into Ego's very core to a brightly lit cavern and Ego's heavily protected brain.

The sensation of flying under his own power, deep and deeper, where Peter's never been before.

Countless wonders whispering to his mind from the surface, from the deep, trying to tempt him away from his goal as some part of his father must be becoming aware that something is going on, that something is about to happen and that he's absolutely defenseless for once.

Silvery white starshine all but spilling from his hands and reflecting in the cracks and patterns of the shell around Ego's brain like a night sky.

Metal, red-hot, white-hot, twisting and melting and light getting so bright it should hurt in his eyes and yet only feels like home.

A blue shine, a familiar and yet alien shape, pulsing and slightly gelantinous and he remembers being eight and wanting to poke it just to see if it would wobble.

Peter has to close his eyes for just a moment and can't decide if he'd rather laugh or cry – or do both.

The Infinity Stone pulsates in its orb, chanting 'Now! Now! Now!'

A deep breath, eyes opening wide – then Peter opens the orb and the world drowns in purple fire.

There's light in his veins, light in his eyes, his ears and nose and mouth and it's tainted.

It should be bright and silver but burns purple now, eating through his chest from the inside out, glowing in his ribs, his lungs, his heart like miniature novae caught in flesh and hating every second of it, tearing their way free with fire and heat and light, so much light…

There's ash on his tongue – no, his tongue is turning to ash – and Peter wants to cough but he's breathing sparks and eternity and devastation and there's no room for such fleeting things like oxygen where infinity rules.

Peter is afraid, so deeply, deeply afraid, terrified to whatever remains of his bones, and yet there's a serenity to his panic because even if he dies, it won't matter: Ego is alive, is everywhere around him, and so, even if Peter dies and the Stone falls, Ego will die all the same.

A part of him, the part all too aware of the tears of liquid fire running down his cracking cheeks, wants to end it like this.

Give in, give up, die and not face the pain that is losing your only parent.

He's done it once and it broke him.

He just can't do it again.

And yet…

His skin is turning to dust, his bones visible as glowing embers cradled by fraying nerves and muscles lit brightly from within, purple, purple, purple wherever he looks – and yet…

Caught in the endless second between the agony of burning alive and the final explosion of death Peter refuses to give, he takes control and serves as the conduit of total devastation.

'Goodbye', he thinks, as purple energy disintegrates his father's brain before his very eyes and then races onward, lighting up everything connected to it only to leave nothing in its wake, not even ash.

The devastation is silent but all-encompassing and Peter can feel it rushing outward, from the channels and roots in the deeper areas of the caverns up to the thickly planted surface and the colorful spires of Ego's palace.

'Goodbye', he thinks, as he senses the bones of his siblings finally crumble once and for all.

Peter doesn't know how he finds his way back on the surface of this now dead world, but suddenly he's there, standing out in the open and feeling the atmosphere slowly evaporate for a lack of will and weakening gravity keeping it around.

Far above him the sky darkens, the stars get brighter and brighter and Nova Corps ships (no Milano, a part of him distantly wonders if Yondu did something to it, to spare him that experience) descend in tight formation, all centered on him.

Peter knows what it looks like – knew it what it would look like right from the beginning – and he has accepted it.

He knows that they either saw everything as it happened or now have to assume the worst from the evidence right in front of their eyes: A once lush planet teeming with life burning up in a purple flash of light until nothing was left but a lifeless husk floating aimless through space.

And him at the center of it, the glowing Infinity Stone still in his hand.

A slightly larger ship lands in front of him and even with their helmets on and their visors down Peter can see that the disembarking Corpsmen training their guns on him are horrified. Nova Prime and his friends following along just after her certainly are. (Funny, he'd never thought that he would ever see them all quiet, let alone speechless, at the same time, and yet, here they are…)

He doesn't say anything (How should he explain this anyway, where's the proof?), just extends his hand (Everybody flinches and that hurts just as much as he ever thought it would.) and offers up the Stone.

Nobody moves then one of the Corpsmen (Saal, some part of him notices, naturally it's Not-Impressed!-Denarian-Saal, the face under the visor tight and unreadable.) determinedly steps forward and encases the Stone in another containment orb with one swift movement.

A purple tint he hadn't even noticed vanishes from Peter's vision…

Seconds later they are on him and his arms get harshly wrenched on his back and cuffed up tight – painfully so, probably, but Peter is so numb he doesn't even notice – and he's not so gently dragged up and into the waiting ship.

If his friends look at him, he doesn't notice.
If his friends say anything, he doesn't notice.

Peter's tired – so, so tired – and grieving.

Peter killed him.

Mantis is inside the ship, sitting like a frozen statue on one of the banks, tears streaming silently down her cheeks (Her own or Peter's still? Tears of sadness, fear or joy?). She looks just as broken as Peter feels and he just can't deal with this right now, so he doesn't protest at all when he gets pulled to the other end of the room.

Peter killed him.

There are questions he barely registers and demands soon given up upon once it becomes clear Peter won't answer, but the stares, the silent, accusing, fearful stares remain.

A part of him knows that he should at least try to explain (How do you explain something like that?), but –

Peter killed him.

Peter killed him and maybe he doesn't even want to try to explain.

After all, it's still patricide in the end, still his father, the father he loved, who he killed without mercy, without leaving him a fighting chance, without hope of saving himself.

Maybe Peter's secretly longing for some kind of punishment, for a chance to do penance, because he was the favored son, the favorite son, full of light and more powerful, more beloved than any other, rebelling against his father and deserving to suffer for it.

To rot in hell for it.

He knows he should at least try to explain (How do you explain something like that?), but –

And Peter wonders, what if he killed her, too?

His mom, his wonderful, vibrant mom, dying of a tumor growing in her brain, and tumors don't just appear out of nowhere, it must have been growing for years, so what if Peter was the cause of it somehow? Who even knows what having an alien baby, a Celestial baby, does to a human in the end?

Patricide and matricide and Peter's really an orphan now, isn't he, and it's all his own damn fault...

He should really try to explain (How do you explain something like that?), but –

Reality is splintering and everything seems so hazy and so far, far away.

It just hurts, it hurts so fucking much and Peter wants nothing more than to choke on the tears that just won't come and he wants to scream and shout and roar his pain at an uncaring universe, asking it why him, why now, why it's always him having to lose everything just when he found it.

And he wants to curl up into a little ball, crying and rocking himself to sleep and wake up from this nightmare, and he wants to find Yondu and either break him for bringing him to Ego in the first place or break down in his arms.

And he wants to unleash his light and fry the people around him inside out, give them all a reason to be afraid of him, because how dare they, how dare they, he did it for them and he wants to rip this sad little excuse of a ship apart, face the void and make it please, please, finally end somehow…

Reality is splintering because reality is just too hard to bear right now and so Peter closes his eyes, shuts everybody else out and drowns himself in the universe consisting of a billion stars living in the back of his mind…

12