It was one of those things that nobody said but everyone thought. It was an unspoken agreement between each and every member of the crew that one didn't tempt the fates by daring to speak an almost certain truth aloud. Even if the outcome of a situation was practically written in stone, they wouldn't say it until there was absolutely no chance they could be wrong. They had seen too many miracles, experienced too many close calls, dragged themselves back from the brink too many times to risk jinxing it.

But Yondu was dying.

Peter, a child of ten years and still treated as such, had been sheltered from most of the discussion regarding the captain's physical state, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe Yondu stood a chance of survival. He had watched as the blue-skinned man was dragged aboard the ship by frantic crew members, a trail of blood painting the floor behind them. He had seen the look of panic on Kraglin's face, an expression which had later turned to grief when the first mate took the metaphorical wheel into his hands with the assumption his captain would never take it back again.

Peter watched it all from a distance, accepting the fact that no one would tell him anything because of his age and supposed inability to understand. Of course, just because he accepted that fact, it didn't mean he wasn't going to do anything about it.

It took three days for the medically talented crew members to stop working on Yondu twenty-four seven, and when they did, Peter decided it was time to make his move. He waited until they finished their evening rotation, and once they left, he crept into the medical room where Yondu was.

Peter held his breath, inching closer to the bed with a sick, sinking feeling in his gut. He clutched his tape player to his chest with shaking hands, swallowing thickly but still forcing himself to move closer to the alien on the bed.

With a quiet grunt, he pulled himself up onto the mattress, careful not to bump his captain in any way for fear he would make Yondu's condition worse. Peter took one look at the bandaged head and knew he couldn't put his headphones on Yondu the way he had intended, but it wasn't that difficult to come up with a solution. He placed the headphones on the pillow by the ear that wasn't covered in gauze and tape, pressing play.

Peter sat down and dangled his legs over the edge of the bed, lifting Yondu's hand into his lap and idly tracing his finger over the calloused, blue skin. "C'mon Yondu…" He screwed his eyes shut, his throat going tight. "Tell me to turn it off. Please, please wake up and yell at me."

But Yondu didn't. In fact, if it weren't for the machinery and the very, very faint thrum beneath his fingers, Peter would have thought the captain was already dead.

"No." Peter shook his head, sniffing quietly and still trying not to cry. "No, please. You can't leave me like this… not you, not again… please, not again…"

"Peter, take my hand."

Unable to hold it in anymore, Peter began to sob, shoulders shaking and fingers digging into the unresponsive hand in his lap. He knew Yondu was mean and scary, and he knew it was because of Yondu that he had been torn away from his home and stranded in the middle of a vast, cold, unforgiving galaxy. But Yondu took care of him, protected him, and taught him how to do things. Peter lived for those moments when he would feel a strong hand close around his shoulder, causing him to look up and see a pair of proud eyes and a familiar smirk, followed closely by the words, 'Not bad, kid.'

"Please, Yondu." Peter drew his knees up to his chest, curling himself around the limb he was clinging so desperately to. "Please, wake up…"

"When I die and they lay me to rest, gonna go to the place that's the best. When I lay me down to die, goin' up to the spirit in the sky."

Peter sobbed again, briefly considering skipping the track before deciding he didn't want to let go of Yondu's hand more than he wanted the song to be over.

"Goin' up to the spirit in the sky. That's where I'm gonna go when I die. When I die and they lay me to rest, I'm gonna go to the place that's the best."

"Boy... f'you think I'm goin' anywhere good… when I die, you're dumber'n you look."

Peter froze, afraid to look over his shoulder, gripping the hand against his stomach and holding his breath. He felt the fingers twitch, and after a deep and rasping inhale, Yondu spoke again.

"What'd I tell y'bout cryin', boy?" Then, after a pained groan and another difficult inhale, he continued. "I ain't goin' nowhere, s'quit yer bawlin'."

Peter smiled widely and finally managed to look at the wounded man, still holding the wire-entangled hand with tears streaming down his face. "You're okay!"

Yondu grunted. "Well, I dunno 'bout that… but I ain't dead."

Peter stared at him, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, though they were for an entirely different reason. "I thought you were gonna leave me like my mom did." He looked down at the hand in his lap, the image quickly obstructed by saline. "She asked me to take her hand… and I couldn't. I was too scared, and she…" Peter choked on the words, turning his head away and rubbing his face, cheeks red with shame. "I thought you were gonna leave me."

Yondu didn't say anything for a while, the silence only broken up by the music and machinery. Peter kept looking the other away, afraid he had crossed the line between weakness and manhood. He didn't want Yondu to laugh at him or get angry with him, but he couldn't keep the thoughts to himself. Watching Yondu lay there, completely still and unresponsive while the heart monitor droned along, just waiting for the right moment to flatline…

"Peter, take my hand."

"Peter, let go of my hand."

Flinching, Peter did as he was told and buried his face against his knees, folding his arms over his head and trying hard to man up and be a Ravager.

"Now, you listen to me, boy." Yondu wheezed, grabbing Peter by the arm and giving him a weak shake. "If your mama was any good at being a mama, she knew you loved her, and she knew you were afraid. Ain't no mama worth her salt ever got mad at her baby for bein' afraid."

Peter sniffled, looking up enough to stare at Yondu's hand but still too ashamed to try and meet the blood-red eyes.

"That said, I ain't your mama, n' I don't ever intend to be." Yondu coughed, wincing at the pain it caused and pausing for a moment to catch his breath.

"Sh-should I go get the others?"

Yondu shook his head. "They'll just fuss. 'Sides, I'm talkin' to ya."

Peter fell silent, biting down on his lip and waiting for his captain to continue.

"I ain't your mama, Peter. She's dead. You didn't take her hand, and you can never fix that 'cause she's gone for good." Yondu moved his hand from the boy's shoulder to his chin, grabbing him and forcing the eye contact Peter was so adamantly avoiding. "N' that's okay. You hear me? Ain't nobody in this whole d'ast universe that ain't made a mistake. I'll tell you somethin' my mama used to tell me: if you spend all your todays thinkin' 'bout your yesterdays, you're gonna ruin all your tomorrows. You gotta let that stuff go. If you don't figure out how to do that, you're gonna be all jumbled up inside." Heaving a sigh, the supposedly ruthless Ravager dropped his hand to the mattress and leaned back into the cushions. "Think you can do that?"

Peter looked into the piercing eyes and nodded ever-so-slightly, watching Yondu's face for a long time before asking a question of his own. "Is… is it okay to miss my mom?"

Yondu's mouth twitched into a small, somewhat sad smile. "Yeah, boy. It's alright to miss your mama. Just don't you go thinkin' everybody in life is gonna get killed and leave you behind."

Peter offered a weak smile and nodded again, reaching out to take his Walkman away. "Here, let me—"

"Leave it," Yondu ordered, glancing at the bright orange contraption by his head. "I might not like your music, but it sure beats that d'ast beeping."

Peter smiled. "Yanno, if you let me go tell the others you're awake, they might turn off the machines."

Yondu gave him a mildly disapproving look, but there was mischief dancing in his eyes. "Don't go crackin' wise with me, boy. I don't need nothin' but good, old-fashioned sleep."

As if on cue, Peter's mouth stretched open in a yawn.

"Looks like that's what you need, too." Yondu moved his arm as much as he could, a grimace twisting his features for several seconds before he managed to grind out a simple command. "C'mon."

Peter looked the man over before cautiously laying down and nestling his body into Yondu's side. The Terran watched the bandages and tubes, carefully avoiding them but still managing to rest his head on the dark blue chest.

"If those boys come in and try to wake me up, they'll wake you first to get you offa me. If they do, you make sure to tell them to let me sleep, and that I'll have their heads if they don't. Think you can do that?"

"Mhm." Peter hummed quietly, listening to the solid heartbeat beneath his ear.

Yondu grunted, satisfied with the answer, and settled down to sleep. He rested his free hand on his stomach and let out a sigh, trying to get comfortable. It didn't seem to work, his body still stiff as though he were in pain and trying to hide it.

"Yondu?"

"Hmm?"

Peter wet his lips. "Can I hold your hand?"

Yondu snorted. "'Course not."

Peter deflated slightly, but he hadn't really been expecting the alien to say yes. He might have gotten more affection from Yondu in the past ten minutes than he had in the past two years, but he knew there was going to be a limit to it.

Yondu sighed, closing his eyes. "Grab my wrist. You take my hand, boy, and I'll cut yours off. Understand?"

Peter smiled and nodded happily, reaching out and carefully placing his hand over the gauze-wrapped wrist. "Yessir."

"Now, go to sleep, you little whelp."

Peter only smiled more, closing his eyes and letting out a contented sigh. "Yessir."

Author's Note: So, this story is almost done being written. Chapter 10 is very close to finished, and then I just have two more chapters! If you want to keep up with my progress with this, you should check out my tumblr or my website for updates!

Thanks for reading!