I thought it's time for a disclaimer; I know who Peter's father is supposed to be, but I felt he wouldn't work with what the movie set up. Now the director, James Gunn has flat out said movie Peter's Dad isn't who it is in the comics, so that's not who I'm going with either.

"So... Yondu Udonta is really your Uncle?" asked Corpsman Kril.

"Yeah..." Peter was sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair in a large tent. There were dozens of other people in there, strange alien's mostly, all waiting for friends and family to be treated in the makeshift hospital the Nova Corps (as it turned out the Space Police were called) had set up.

The walls of the tent were made of a grey, almost metallic material that had a honeycomb pattern if you looked hard enough. It kept the heat and the dust out.

Someone was sobbing. Other people were talking softly, and someone coughed. Peter didn't like this at all. He was on a space station, inside a super advanced, air conditioned tent, surrounded by aliens, and it still managed to feel exactly like a hospital waiting room back home.

He remembered he had his Walkman clipped to his belt and was about to put it on, when the Corpsman who was babysitting him spoke again.

"Gotta say, I can't really see a resemblance."

Peter carefully considered his response and said, "He married my aunt." He had a lot of experience making stuff up thanks to all the time he spent playing make believe with his Mom. Thinking about it caused a pang sadness in his chest that physically hurt.

"You okay, son?" the Corpsman asked gently. He took his helmet off and revealed he had normal tan skin, large, brown, almost frog-like eyes, bumpy ridges along the lines of his face, and longish red hair that went all over the place.

Peter sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "Uh-huh. I just... I'm scared."

Kril chewed his lip. "You got any other family? You know... just in case."

Eyes wide, Peter stared at him. That was right. Peter had his Grandpa and Grandma, and Aunts and Uncles on Earth. He could tell this guy the truth and they'd probably take him home. He could go back to his Grandpa and pretend this never happened.

He looked down at his Walkman, and turned it over in his hands. His heart was hammering like he was scared. Did he want to go home? His Mom would still be dead. His Grandma would still cry all the time, and his Grandpa would still be sad and distant. He didn't have much else to go back to. No friends. And he had seen the stars; he was on a Space Station talking to an alien Cop. He didn't know what Yondu wanted him for, and the battle today had been scary as hell, but so many things were amazing and cool and he wanted to see more so bad!

Besides... he promised not to run.

Making his decision, Peter shook his head.

The Corpsman sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that. Was it the war?"

Peter almost rolled his eyes at this guys nosiness, but he kept up the sad hat routine and said, "No. My Mom got sick... and my Aunt died in an accident..." That wasn't a total lie. His Aunt Jenny did get in a bad car accident about a year ago. She didn't die though.

"And Udonta actually took you in?"

Peter huffed. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore." He put his headphones on and pressed play, drowning out any more questions the Cop might have. He just hoped the batteries would hold out.

He hugged his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, letting his music wash over him and carry him far away from the waiting tent.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, but eventually something touched his shoulder and drew him back to reality.

The bright yellow face and dark eyes of Denarian Lan were smiling down at him, waiting for Peter to take his headphones off, Lan said, "Your Uncle pulled through just fine. Now, he'll need to rest for a couple days, so I thought you might like to stay with him in his tent instead of out here?"

"Yes please!" Spending a couple of days in the waiting tent with Corpsman Kril sounded awful, and from the relief on the red-head's face, Kril agreed.

Lan laughed at the both of them. "Come with me then."

The forest floor was soft with ferns and moss; a good place to lay and take in the night. The air was heavy with the odour of leaves and bracken and the smoke from a nearby fire. He could faintly hear his people singing and dancing, but he was far enough away that he could also hear the trees in the wind, and the movements of animals going about their nightly rituals.

He felt it all: plants, trees, animals, people. A delicate pulse of life and death.

Looking up, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the twin moons through the canopy, only there were no moons. The familiar stars were gone; replaced by the unfathomable expanse of the Universe. All the countless galaxies and nebulae could bee seen, all moving far too quickly.

Dread settled upon him and he stood up. He had to get back... had to get home to his people...

He started walking towards the fire, moving quickly and skillfully through the forest. When the trees opened up, he found not the camp of his tribe, but an Asguardian hunting party. These living Gods laughed and drank and ate from a rich feast that had been set out on a great table.

Yondu looked around himself at the trees. They were still the trees of his home; not some alien forest. He stepped out, ready to demand what the outsiders were doing here, but the Asguardians greeted him like old friends and drew him in.

There were other people here too. People from his past... all of them dead.

Some he knew to be alive were there as well. Mar-Vell was laughing and talking to one of the Asguardian princes, the blond one with the hammer. There were others too, folks he didn't know flitting about just beyond his sight.

Something curled into his hand and he looked down to find Quill there, smiling up at him. There was light emanating from within him and around him; enough light and energy to fill an entire Universe. The boy squeezed his hand and pointed up at the chaotically shifting stars.

He said. "We were always making up stories where we explored the Universe together. I was the hero, and now it's for real."

Yondu tried to rip his hand away, but the boy wouldn't let go, and wouldn't budge. It was like he weighed a tonne, his grip tethering the Centaurian in place. He was still smiling and he said, "I ain't running. I promised."

"Let go of me right now, boy," Yondu growled back. "You got no idea what I'm gonna do to you-"

"What are you going to do?"

His head whipped around to look behind him, and there was the self proclaimed 'One Who Knows,' the idiot Starhawk. His dark armour didn't just reflect the light of the endless stars, it contained them.

Suddenly the sky was empty. Starhawk had taken all the light, and all that was left was the dancing fire and the glow from within Peter. Everyone had stopped in their revelry. They were all watching, their eyes like daggers.

Starhawk said, "Do you really think you can sacrifice a child for something that may or may not exist?"

And then they were all gone. Even Quill.

He was alone.

It took a moment for Yondu to figure out that the reason everything was so dark was because his eyes were closed. "Stupid assed dream..." he muttered.

Slowly he opened his eyes and took a look at his surroundings. He was laying on his back on a bed in a small, dark room made of environment resistant cloth; a medical tent? He was clean and dressed in pale yellow Xandarian style hospital robes. He refused to think about who had undressed him.

There was a smooth metal cuff decorated with small gems secured to his left arm. He tried to get it off and felt a twinge of pain for his trouble. Then he remembered... those gems were capsules of pressurized liquid, and the cuff was releasing it slowly into his bloodstream. He relaxed. As much as he didn't like the thing, his condition would probably get a hell of a lot worse if he took it off.

He held his hands up and realized they were shaking. His whole body was trembling and he was coated in sweat. He closed his hands into fists and let them drop onto the blankets.

Was it from the dream?

No. He was starting to become aware of the dull, persistent ache that had settled into his every muscle and bone, and he felt too cold and too hot at the same time. Whatever they had given him for the pain was obviously not strong enough.

It grew in intensity as his heart rate and breathing quickened. He needed to get the pressure off his back, so he gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit up.

The result was bad, and he just barely managed not to scream. Did they even do anything to heal him?

He opened the robe and carefully slid the fabric off his right shoulder so he could check the damage. There wasn't much to see. It was covered in a bright orange gel that clashed horribly with with his blue skin. He knew what it was immediately. He'd had this stuff on him before. It would keep his wounds clean and sterile, promote healing and tissue growth, and after a week or so it would fall off and leave nothing but scars.

Miracles of modern medicine.

The burns were right over the latticed aftermath of an ion blast he had narrowly survived years ago. He was literally going to have scars on top of his scars.

Hissing, he pulled the fabric back in place and started checking himself over to make sure the Nova medic hadn't harvested anything.

"Yondu?"

He tensed. His senses were dull from the drugs, and he didn't realize he wasn't alone. It was only Quill, though. Now that he was siting up, he could see that the boy had been curled on a bench at the end of his bed.

Quill propped himself up, rubbed at his eyes, and took his ear coverings off, hanging them around his neck. "You're not 'sposed to be up yet."

Crooked teeth bared, Yondu growled, "You ordering me around?"

"No." Quill's eyes lingered on his bare torso before the boy looked away in favour of staring at a blank spot on the wall. "Sorry."

The submissive reaction calmed Yondu down. He was giving the poor boy one of his nastier looks, his temper significantly shortened by his pain. He schooled his features. He wasn't angry with the boy. In fact he was quite pleased with him.

Quill had saved Yondu a hell of a lot of trouble, and he knew it. How did the kid keep pulling this shit off?

The boy hadn't said anything to fill Yondu's silence. He was still looking away, clearly uncomfortable. Yondu sighed and closed up his robe. He knew what he looked like; life had chewed him up and spat him back out enough times and it didn't bother him, but evidently it disturbed the kid. The weird part was that he wasn't getting disgust or pity from the boy, just... discomfort.

At a loss for what to say, Yondu asked, "Have you seen my arrow around?"

"It's right here." Quill bent over and came up with the precious Yaka weapon folded into its holster.

Yondu was overwhelmed with relief. The pain and the fever and the shakes were still there, but he wouldn't be helpless while he recovered, and he hadn't lost the last piece of his home. "Bring it over."

Quill stood and moved around the bed to Yondu's left side. He held the weapon out with both hands and it took all of Yondu's will to take it gently instead of snatching it. He set it on his lap and kept his right hand on it. The kid was giving him a weird look and feeling things he couldn't quite put his finger on; sadness and familiarity mixed with a strange jumble of concern, contempt, and... something like kinship. It was unnerving.

More to distract himself, Yondu said, "So I'm your Uncle now, am I?" He wore a nasty smirk and sure to make it sound scathing. He wanted a rise out of the boy so he'd stop with the deep emotions.

And Quill didn't disappoint. He flared with anger as his face turned red and he scowled at Yondu's sheets. "What was I supposed to tell them?" he said hotly. "That you're my kidnapper? They wouldn't have helped you."

That wiped the smile off Yondu's face right quick. He wanted to yell 'Yes! That's exactly what you were supposed to tell them! You don't want to help me!' The boy couldn't be for real. He had to be doing this deliberately to try and manipulate Yondu into sparing him.

Sparing him...

Yondu was going to get him killed. That was the deal; deliver the boy and Daddy Dearest would find the last Centaurian survivors (if there were any). Only the boy was half Terran and half whatever the hell his Daddy was, and the ancient dick-wad sure as hell wasn't interested in having a backwater mammal for a son. Split the two, and whatever the boy was right now would be as good as dead.

He didn't know it when he made the deal, but he figured it out almost as soon as he met the boy and he was still going through with the deal... wasn't he?

Wasn't he?!

"Yondu?"

He glanced up into the boy's big, green, concerned filled eyes and quickly looked away. His left hand fisted a death grip on the blankets that were pooled around his waist.

Ever observant, Quill asked, "You're hurting real bad?"

"I've had worse," Yondu bit out. "Just gotta push it down."

"Here..." The boy carefully took his head wires off his neck and held them out.

Yondu stared at the offering before scoffing. "I don't need my ears blasted off on top of everything else."

"It's okay." The boy had the gaul to smile. "I turned the volume way down, and you wanted to listen to it, right? Maybe... maybe it'll take your mind off... you know..."

He shouldn't. He was already getting in too deep, but it was as though he had fallen into a trance. He took the delicate wires, put them over his ears, and only flinched a little when the boy clicked the box part of the device. What washed over him was music... real music with actual instruments and singing and melodies and harmonies; not the synthetic pounding and screeching the rest of the Galaxy claimed to enjoy.

It was simple and pointless compared to the Centaurian's songs, but nice in its own way. The lyrics were of some jackass who thought he was too good for his lady and tried to run off with a broad he never met... only to find out his lady was the broad. Instead of clawing each other's eyes out, the two fell back in love.

Well wasn't that sweet...

The next song was just a different jackass insisting he wasn't in love with the person he was clearly obsessed with. Yondu was starting to see a theme; Terrans were idiots.

And yet he closed his eyes and lost the tension that was wracking his form. The pain was still there, but further off and easier to ignore. He let out a shaking breath. The boy had said this was his mother's music; that she had shared it with him, and Yondu couldn't begrudge him wanting to hold onto that. If he had a recording like this of his people's music, he would never stop listening to it.

Yondu slowly realized he couldn't sense anything in the tent with him. He opened his eyes and found he was alone.

Did Quill use his distracted state to run off? No...

There was no way the boy would leave his Walk Man behind if he was going to do that, and image of him standing up to a Kree warrior flitted through Yondu's mind. 'I ain't running. I promised...'

That boy was as naive and sentimental as his music, and he was going to have to smarten up right quick if he was going to survive.

And with that thought, Yondu realized he wanted Quill to survive. The only question left was: did he want the boy to live more then he wanted to find his people? He was afraid of the answer, but at the same time, it simplified the issue down to a 'yes or no' question. He'd have to think about it.

Quill chose that moment to return at the heels of a blond haired, pink skinned Krylorian woman dressed in a Nova-Medic uniform. She stopped when she noticed Yondu sitting up and staring like a dazed animal, but she only paused a moment before smiling kindly. "Peter here tells me you're in a bit of pain?"

"A 'bit' ain't the word I'd use," Yondu said in an irritable growl. He pulled the head wires off so he could hear her better. She was giving off nothing but concern, so he eased up and said, "If you got something a whole lot stronger then what I'm already on, I'd be real appreciative."

The doctor came the rest of the way into the tent and took in his dishevelled form; he definitely looked like he was hurting. "Let's see what I can do. May I?" She pointed to the cuff on Yondu's arm.

"Help yourself," he said with a smirk and a wink. He tried and failed to stop the shaking as he held his arm out to her.

She touched the cuff and a little display appeared; apparently it held his medical information as well as his drugs. She perused the scrawl of medical mumbo-jumbo, her smile turned taught, and she suddenly filled with a pity that made Yondu's skin crawl. "I am so sorry, it looks like you're resistant to this strain of opioids. We should have had someone monitoring you, but with everything-"

"That's wonderful..." Yondu cut in. "What about the shit the other Doc gave me?"

She Bit her lip and looked over his information again. "Yeah... no. That stuff's not for prolonged use."

Yondu frowned. He had half a mind to tell her to contact the Ravager's doctor; that sawbones was putting him back together for years and had taken the time to figure out what worked and what didn't. The problem was Yondu didn't know who or how many of his crew survived the battle. If it was the wrong lot in the majority, he'd be dead.

The doctor was babbling in her jargon and about all he understood was, "There's this drug we use on Ergons," and, "It'll throw you for a loop."

He smiled wanly. "Honey, you can throw me for as many loops as you like, so long as I ain't feeling it."

She rolled her eyes despite herself as she gave his arm back. "You should lie down."

"I'd rather not," Yondu said playfully. "Back's a little sore, you know?"

She managed a small laugh and gently patted his uninjured shoulder. "Can you hang in there for a few minutes? I've gotta go get authorization."

"For you? Anything."

That earned him a snort as she left.

Now alone with Quill, Yondu sighed. The boy had watched all that in an awkward silence. Yondu gave him a long, hard stare, held the Walk Man out to him, and said about the only thing he could think of...

"Thanks."

Kraglin's stomach dropped out as he took the leather jacket from Ross. He examined the massive hole eaten into it and ran his fingers along the chemically blackened edges. "Where'd you find it?"

"In an alley," said Ross. "There was a dead Sakaaran nearby; Yondu's work."

Kraglin nodded. "Good job. Your brother and the others'r still looking?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep at it, and remember; we don't want no trouble."

Ross didn't mince words and simply walked out of the shadow of the downed Galleon and into the city.

There was a throaty scoff and Kraglin turned to find Horuz watching him.

"Don't start," Kraglin warned.

The older man spat and said, "You're waisting all our man power on a dead man."

"What'd I just say?" He had an icy edge to his voice. "And the Captain ain't dead till I see his corpse."

Horuz pointed at the ruined jacket. "Get you're head outa your ass, boy! That's a Necro-Blast that caused that and not even Yondu can survive one 'a those!"

"I know you want the stop spot." Kraglin jutted his chin out in challenge. "And I don't know why he ain't killed you yet, but you ain't in charge till you go through me."

His eyes widened as the grizzled madman stormed towards him, but he stood his ground. Horuz grabbed the collar of his Ravager jumper and pulled him close to the filthy, bearded face. "You ain't got a clue! I've known Yondu since you were sucking on your mama's tit, and you know what I say? I say you're the one he should be killing!"

He shoved Kraglin hard, but the First Mate managed to stay on his feet and keep his back straight.

But Horuz wasn't done. He circled the younger man like an animal and said, "You play your dumb colony boy role all real-like, but there is something wrong with you! I always said so."

Kraglin's nostrils flared. He drew his pulsar gun and pointed it at Horuz's head. The old man met his cold gaze with a defiant smirk.

"Gonna do it, boy?" Horuz nodded to something beyond Kraglin's shoulder. "That Nova-creep's hanging 'round again. Thought you said we didn't want no trouble?"

Kraglin kept him in his peripheral as he took a careful peek, and sure enough, there was a yellow skinned Aakon Denarian watching with his arms crossed.

Kraglin lowered his weapon and said, "Go check on Trelgar."

Horuz spat at his feet and stormed off.

Plotting the old man's death, Kraglin took a moment to get himself under control before turning and approaching the Nova.

The Denarian was the first to speak. "Mr Obfonteri?"

Kraglin stopped and looked him up and down. "Yeah?"

"My name is Gabriel Lan."

He curled his lip and said, "I know who you are. You're the captain of that exploration ship that came to our rescue." He made sure to inject plenty of sarcasm into his words. "How can I help you officer?"

Lan smiled and held out a hand. "I'd really like to have a look at that jacket."

Head cocked and eyebrow raised, Kraglin said, "Seriously?" He was expecting threats and demands to behave, not a friendly request for Yondu's jacket.

"Yes."

He shrugged and handed it over.

"Very nice." Lan let it drape over his arm and ran a hand over it. "What kind of leather is this?"

"Acanti," Kraglin answered with a smirk. He had a feeling where this was going.

"And how does one obtain the leather of such a rare, and protected species?"

Yep. That's were this was going.

Kraglin bobbed on the balls of his feet and sucked at his feet before saying, "Don't know 'bout anyone else, but Yondu got that given to him."

Lan's brow rose. "Can I ask from who?"

"The Acanti." Kraglin grinned. "Even got papers if you want to see 'em."

The Denarian smiled back. "No, that's okay."

"Anything else? I'm kinda busy." The Ravager pointed a thumb at the downed ship.

"I was just checking something." Lan handed the jacket back and turned to leave, but first he paused and said, "By the way. If you're looking for someone, you should the try the temporary medical centre we have set up."

Kraglin stared at him as he walked away and then looked down at Yondu's jacket in his hand.

It couldn't be... could it?