Peter was in a nice warm place where there was no crashing spaceships, and people dying, and confusing blue alien kidnappers. He was in his bed at home, it was all a strange, elaborate dream, and now his Mom was shaking him awake 'cause it was time to go to school.

"...ill... Quill... up... wake up, boy! Damn it!"

That... was definitely not his Mom. Above him a haggard, stubbly blue face and burning red eyes swam into view. Yondu...

"Oh..." he said. Right. His Mom was dead and he was abducted by aliens. Funny how he kept forgetting that.

He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He didn't remember nodding off.

He was still in the same quiet garden. The strange knight had flown him here and after he was assured this didn't count as running away, they had sat and talked for awhile.

It looked like Yondu managed to find him.

"Where's Starhawk?" asked Peter.

It took the alien a second longer then it should have to come up with, "What..?"

"The big guy with the cool armour."

"The know it all?" Yondu's eye twitched. "Starhawk? Seriously? Why're you calling him that?"

Peter caught on that Yondu wasn't happy. In fact he really didn't look good. Carefully, the boy said, "I told him that I wanna be Star-Lord and he said he likes it when people call him Starhawk."

"You told him..." Yondu stumbled back a step and started giggling. "'The One Who Knows' my ass! Stupid mentalist tricks... "

"Um..." Peter took in how shaky and sweaty and pale the blue alien was; pale with dark shadows around his eyes, a bit like Peter's Mom looked towards the end. Now panicking, he stood up and asked, "Are you sick?!"

Yondu's eyes shone as he gave the boy a blank stare. "No." He tried the com on his wrist, but nothing happened and the face was cracked. He must have hit it on something when he got caught in that explosion. He'd have to do this the hard way. He turned around and started to walk out of the courtyard. "Come on."

With him turned, Peter could see the horrible blackened skin and blood that covered half his back. The boy stayed in his seat as he fought with a bout of nausea. How was Yondu even standing?!

The Centaurian stopped at the alley entrance and leaned on the wall. "What's the hold up?" he barked.

With a hand over his mouth, Peter got up and followed. He got himself under control and said, "You're hurt real bad..."

"I noticed," Yondu bit out. Once the boy caught up, he started walking again. Steady... one foot in front of the other...

"You need a doctor," he heard Quill say from somewhere far off.

"Had to get you first..." he rasped.

"I'm sorry! I didn't... Starhawk... flew me... garden..."

He could barely understand Quill's babbling, so he tuned it out and focused on moving forward and staying on his feet. The armoured idiot and the boy were both right when they said he needed a doctor.

He was suddenly afraid he was going blind, until he realized there was sweat and the blood from the cut on his brow falling into his eyes. He wiped at it with his left hand; couldn't even move his right side anymore.

It didn't help much.

He stopped. He could barely see, his senses were jumbled, he had no energy left to use his crest, and no way to call for help. He refused to panic, but he wasn't getting anywhere like this, and he needed to get somewhere now... preferably someplace with drugs.

When he dropped his left hand, something small and cool curled into it and gave it a tug.

"Quill?"

"Yeah..." The boy's voice was close, but Yondu couldn't even sense him there. "I'm... I'm gonna get you to a doctor, ok?"

There was that tightness in Yondu's chest again. Quill was trying to help him without being threatened, bribed, or even asked. It kinda pissed him off; like the kid knew what he had planned and was trying to guilt him into changing his mind.

"You even know the way?" he asked harshly.

The boy hesitated. "No but... I'll figure it out. We gotta try, right?"

Yondu swallowed. He didn't know how Quill thought he was going to navigate the chaotic space station, but it had to be better then standing here and waiting to black out. Yondu nodded and said, "Best you start walking, then."

Peter gently pulled the alien along, careful not to go too fast. He'd made a promise not to run, and he couldn't just sit there and watch Yondu stumble around in clear agony. His stomach churned again just thinking about the horrible burns. That blue hand had an almost painful grip on him and he could feel Yondu shaking. He could also hear the laboured breathing and smell something faint like the scent that lingers around a patio after a barbecue.

This space station was worse then the ship. It seemed to be made entirely of twisting alleys and catwalks.

Every now and then people ran by, but they never stopped long enough for Peter to ask directions. Finally he heard whispering up ahead.

"They've got the Captain. What do we do?"

"We die here, or we find a way off this stinking rock."

"We just leave him?"

"That was the whole point."

Peter stopped and Yondu almost tripped over him. Pushing the alien back a bit, snuck up and he peaked around the corner.

There were three of them; one of the big blue warriors in the armour, and two of the bug people that looked like they were dressed in wasp nests. These were the same kind of folks Yondu had killed earlier.

There was a screech of pain behind him, and Peter nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around and found that when he pushed Yondu, it had accidentally caused him to brush his burned shoulder against the alley. The alien's eyes were closed as he shuddered and struggled to keep his breathing even. His legs gave out and he sank down to the ground, leaving an awful trail of blood and char on the wall.

"What was that?" said one of the bug men.

"Uh-oh..." They were coming over. Peter went over to Yondu and pulled on the front of his shirt. "Get up! Get up!"

But the Centaurian wasn't budging. Peter couldn't tell if he was passed out or not because he was still shaking and panting, but he wasn't responding.

The bad aliens came around the corner and stopped. The warrior was at front and Peter saw his glowing amber eyes narrow at the scene he found. He chuckled and to his bug friends, he said, "The traitor, Yondu has been delivered to us. We shall return with his head as our trophy."

Yep... definitely bad guys.

Yondu mumbled something, but Peter couldn't understand a word of it. The warrior was advancing, raising the nasty, blood encrusted hammer he had in his right hand. Suddenly this wasn't a bunch of scary monster-aliens trying to kill Peter's kidnapper; this was a couple of bullies smushing a helpless frog with with a stick. He reacted now the same way he had then... by doing the stupidest thing possible.

He stood and put himself between them and Yondu. "Stop!" He commanded. Amazingly, they obeyed him and froze under his heated glare. "I won't let you hurt him!"

They stared for a couple more seconds, and then burst out laughing. Peter's cheeks turned red and his ears heated up, but he didn't say anything and he didn't budge.

He also didn't notice Yondu's eyes crack open.

The blue warrior pointed his hammer at Peter and said, "You better run, little Xandarian, or I might take revenge for all the Kree children your father has killed.

Peter didn't understand most of that, so all he said was, "I ain't running. I promised."

The man sneered and slowly, almost reluctantly raised his weapon. "Very well."

It was starting to sink in to Peter that he was about to die, but he couldn't get his limbs to move. All he could do was shut his eyes tight and pray this guy wasn't really 'child killing evil.'

There was a sharp whistle and Peter flinched as he felt the hammer hit the ground in front of him. There was a couple more whistles and a few more thuds, and when Peter opened his eyes the warrior and the bug men were dead. His breath stuck in his chest.

They were dead.

They were alive a second ago and now they were dead...

"You idiot..." There was movement behind him, but he still couldn't move.

Strange coloured blood pooled under the bodies; green from the bugs and blue from the warrior.

Something grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look away. Yondu was back on his feet. "You got head problems or something?"

"You killed them," Peter said in a shaking voice.

Yondu grimaced. "Would you rather I'd 'a let that Kree squish you dead?"

Eyes like saucers, the boy shook his head rapidly.

Yondu snorted and nudged him to get moving.

Looking up and seeing the blurry image of Quill standing there, waiting for the Kree to cudgel him... it scared the shit out of Yondu, and if he was in the mood to reflect on it, he'd admit it wasn't just the thought of loosing his bargaining chip. The boy didn't deserve to die like that. He didn't deserve to die at all, but especially not like that.

At least the fresh wave of adrenaline allowed Yondu to push past the pain and get up. He glanced at the bodies as they passed them and sighed. "You really need to learn to pick your battles, boy."

Quill said nothing to that and took his hand again. The boy was shaking almost as bad as he was; probably never seen death up close and personal before... he couldn't tell though. He had no idea what the boy was feeling, and it was a cold, horrible thought that his senses might be damaged beyond repair. Most of the Galaxy got by without them, but he'd be crippled.

Quill must have picked up on his distress, because the boy said, "It's okay. I can see a big street up ahead. There's gotta be someone who can help.

Yondu was hesitant to agree. Even if they found one of his Ravagers, if it was the wrong one, they might try to off him and take his place as Captain. "Keep your eyes sharp, boy," he said. "Don't trust anyone."

He heard Quill gulp before pulling him forward.

Yondu struggled to keep his breathing even as the world opened up and filled with frantic people rushing through the aftermath of the battle. He could smell them, hear them, even feel them thundering their feet and moving the air around, but he could barely see, his crest felt like it was on fire, and his back... the pain had him close to blacking out.

Peter tugged on the panicking Centaurian, but only succeeded in getting dragged over to a wall near the alley they had come out of. Yondu braced his good side against it and seemed content to stay there. People were starting to stop and stare, and Peter remembered what the alien had said. He wanted to ask them for help, but none of them looked happy. Some of them were even muttering things like, "Blue skin... is he Kree? That kid's a hostage?"

"Um... Yondu?" Peter whispered. "I think we need to go." But Yondu didn't move and didn't loosen his grip.

Softly he rasped. "I'm done. Ain't getting any farther."

Peter thought of what to say to that, but before he could come up with anything, a pair of men in blue uniforms parted the crowd and demanded to know what was going on. They were wearing body armour that had three yellow lights forming a 'V' on their chests and helmets that hid away their eyes. Everything about them, from their clothes to their walk screamed 'Police Officer.'

One of them, the shorter, stockier of the two stopped and regarded the situation. "You okay there, son?"

The other Space Cop, who was tall and had a bright yellow chin visible under his helmet, was backing people off and talking lowly about 'hostage situations' into his arm. Peter didn't miss the fact that both Cops had their hands on their guns. This was like a movie; a crazy, messed up, confusing movie.

Mustering up the little bit he knew about the situation and every ounce of guile he had, Peter said, "I'm alright, sir, but my Uncle got in a fight with some of them Kree guys and they hurt him real bad." He put on his best 'scared kid' face for good measure.

"Your uncle?!"

The yellow chinned Cop said, "Did you I.D. them yet, Kril?" He had succeeded in getting most of the crowd to disperse.

"On it." The shorter guy, Kril, pulled a metal stick from one of his pockets and shook it out. The pieces opened up and snapped into place, forming a rectangular frame that filled with a see-through screen. He held this up and Peter could see a picture of Yondu appear on it, next to a bunch of alien writing.

Kril looked from the screen to Yondu and back and forth several times before saying, "Um... sir? This guy isn't Kree."

Yondu chose that moment to regain his senses. "Of course I ain't Kree," he snapped angrily at the man. "See all this blood coming outa me? It's red, genius."

But the Cop ignored him. "Denarian Lan? You really need to see this."

Peter didn't know what the big deal was, but he hoped the Space Cops would figure it out soon. Yondu was starting to lean on him, and the alien was heavy! They were both looking at the screen now.

The yellow chinned Cop, Denarian Lan, looked up and said, "Well, well. Yondu Udonta, the famous Captain of the Ravagers. My name is Denarian Gabriel Lan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He approached carefully, noting how the Centaurian tensed and stared around. It was clear he was having difficulty seeing, and he was putting most of his weight on the wall and the child. Making a call, the Denarian put his hands up. "Easy now. Your nephew said you're injured. I only want to have a look."

Yondu was still tense, but he didn't attack as the Denarian moved around behind him. There was no reason to fight the Nova Corps, he reminded himself. They had nothing on him.

Didn't stop him from wishing his senses weren't fritzed so he could get an idea what kind of attitude these two were going to take.

The Denarian sucked in a breath. "He needs Med-Evac, now!"

Oh good. They were going to be helpful. Yondu finally let go of his death grip on consciousness and collapsed to the ground.

For awhile, Yondu's world alternated between an excruciating blur and blissful darkness. He kind of wished he could stick with the latter, but his species was built tough; it took a lot to knock him out in the first place, and his instincts kept jolting him awake when people touched tim. It felt like everyone on Tau Bootis 5 was taking their turn man handling him.

He was vaguely aware of being carried here and there, and then he was laid face down on something metal and he blacked out again. The next time he woke it was to the sick feeling of fingers pressing into his burned flesh. He was pretty sure he socked someone in the teeth before being pinned down.

He fought in a blind panic for a few seconds until his strength gave out.

Someone leaned in close to him and said, "Mr Udanta?"

"Yondu..." he said. He hated how weak his voice sounded.

"Yondu," his captor repeated. He recognized that voice. It was that Denarian... Lan? He was talking again. "There's a doctor here who has some questions for you. Now, you're not going to hit him again, are you?"

Yondu's eyes rolled back, but he managed to process the question and form an answer. "Naw... s'long as he drugs me up good 'for he goes pokin' me..."

"That's exactly the problem," said a muffled voice from a good distance to his left. "I have almost no data on your species. Giving you anything without knowing your metabolism could kill you."

Yondu moaned and strained against the hands that were holding him down. He was fully awake again. He really didn't want to be. "You ain't got nothin' that'll poison me," he ground out. "An' whatever ya give me... need double what you'd give a Xandarian."

He heard bustling movement and then something pressed into his neck.

"Oh sweet mercy of Anthos..." He nearly cried from relief as the pain was swept away and his muscles relaxed for the first time in hours.

"That seems to have done the trick," said the Denarian. He sounded amused...

The doctor was clattering around the room. "You can leave now."

"Do you have any idea who this is?"

"A criminal of some sort, I wager?"

Denarian Lan chuckled. "Not according to his record, but trust me, if he wakes up swinging again you're going be glad I stayed."

Yondu couldn't feel anything anymore, so it was disconcerting when he heard the hum of a laser blade very close by. Were they cutting him open? He tried to move his head to see, but couldn't.

He was paralyzed, but he was too euphoric to work himself into a panic. "What'r you doin'?" he slurred.

There was a pause in the doctor's activities. "You're still awake?! Are you in pain?"

"No," he answered simply. "What'r you doin'?"

"I have to cut your shirt off," came the hesitant answer.

"Oh..." Damn, and he liked this shirt too. He closed his eyes and relaxed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up when this was all over.

From far away, he could still hear the soldier and the doctor talking.

"Looks like he's out."

"Good. This is hardly going to be comfortable. Still... the residue from the Necro-Blast should have eaten him clean through."

"Do you think he might have a resistance?"

"It's possible. Centaurians are supposed to be extinct. Almost nothing is known about them."

"That would be huge. I don't have to tell you how many of my friends I've lost to those infernal weapons..."

A niggling fear pulled Yondu back to reality. If these idiots got the wrong idea, he might end up in a Xandarian lab. He had a suspicion that the Xandarians weren't much kinder to their test subjects then the Kree, and even if they were all sunshine and rainbows, the idea of being locked away in some cage so a bunch of scientists could do what they want with him... that was his idea of hell.

Faintly he said, "Jacket took the brunt of it... Acanti leather." It wasn't even a lie.

The Denarian whistled appreciatively. "That must have cost you a fortune."

"He really shouldn't be awake right now." The doctor stopped messing with his clothes and moved away.

While the doctor was doing whatever it was he was doing, Yondu cracked an eye and looked up at the Nova Denarian, who was standing uncomfortably close. He could make out a blurry yellow head.

"Hey..." said Yondu. "Where's Quill?"

The Nova smiled down at him. "Your Nephew? He's in the waiting area with Corpsman Kril. You don't have to worry about him."

Yondu didn't get a chance to respond. There was another pressure on his neck; the damn doctor had injected him again.

There was no fighting it this time. He slid comfortably into a deep sleep.