If Peter Quill could be defined by a single word, it would be "brave." It might sound arrogant for him to say it himself, but he believed he had proven it time and time again. Alongside his fellow Guardians, he had faced countless galactic threats, one impossible situation after another. Not long ago, he had even killed one of Knull's dragons, the god of the void. That wasn't something people survived every day, let alone defeated. And yet, here he was. Of course, becoming the Master of the Sun had helped a great deal, but there were plenty of others with the power to help. What they lacked was the will.

Peter had never lacked willpower. Deep down, he always believed he could do it, and life hadn't necessarily proven him wrong. Until now, almost. Peter Quill didn't believe he couldn't do it. But he had never really thought about it.

He could feel Summer's fragility through her hand.

"I'm here, Summer. Can't you feel my hand? I won't abandon you."

Her death was approaching, faster and faster. He didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth. While his team searched for a way to help her against an unknown poison, Peter wondered if it would even matter if they administered an antidote right now. Summer looked terrible. Her eyes were the only thing that still shone, even now, at death's door.

Peter, take my hand.

Peter grimaced. He couldn't get it out of his damn head. And on top of that, she had said "daughters," plural. Not only was he failing to save her, but he was going to leave two poor girls orphaned, whether they were grown or not. It didn't matter. A mother was a mother. Losing your mother left a void that could never be filled. Peter understood that perfectly.

How had he let this happen? Why hadn't he been stronger, faster, better? After all these years traversing the universe, saving countless worlds and entire galaxies from all kinds of threats, this was the best he could do for a mother of two daughters. Standing still while she died in his arms, offering cold comfort. Offering a hand she could no longer even feel. As if she were already dead, as if they couldn't even touch.

Peter shuddered.

"This is fucking bullshit," he said aloud before he could stop himself.

"I'm doing what I can, Quill," Rocket said. "I don't even know what the hell a faun is. I can't just inject her with the first thing I see. The cure could be worse than the disease."

"I know, I know, but…"

"Hey, you're not from around here, are you?" Summer murmured. "From this planet? Assuming you're even real and not just my final hallucination."

"We're from beyond the stars," Peter replied. "From planets millions of light-years away. You probably don't understand what that means, but it's a very, very long distance. And yet, here we are. So don't give up. This meeting is like a miracle, isn't it? You can't die here."

Summer smiled. She shook her head slowly. Peter couldn't help but notice her pale lips, which had taken on the same hue as her hood. Well, the parts of the hood that weren't soaked in her own blood, anyway.

"Promise me you'll take care of my daughters, okay? I know it's a lot to ask of a stranger, but please. My husband, my Tai… I don't think he can do it alone. I'm not asking you to be there all the time, but please…"

"I promise," Peter said without hesitation.

He was the leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy. The entire galaxy. Not just the distant planet called Remnant. Not just this woman's daughters. And yet, he made that promise so naturally. He wondered if he even believed it himself.

"Thank you. And tell… tell Ruby… tell Ruby I'm sorry and that she shouldn't… she shouldn't choose this life."

Her labored breathing was draining her last strength to say those words. Like any mother, her final efforts were for her daughters, not for herself. Peter's eyes stung. His own mother would have done anything for him too. He wished he had appreciated her more before it all ended, but he had been a stupid teenager back then.

"Tell her this life isn't worth it. I don't want her to end up like me. Please…"

"You don't have to say 'please,' Summer. Just ask, and I'm… at your service, okay? But I'm only asking one thing. Stop talking like you're dying."

He squeezed her hand even tighter, digging his nails into her skin. Summer's expression didn't change at all. Was it because she could no longer feel his nails, his fingers, the pain? Or was she just running on empty, with no energy left to react? In any case… this was the end. Very soon, she would take her last breath. He knew it.

He didn't want to know that. He didn't want to know anything.

"She's slipping away," Rocket said. "I'm coming. Damn it. Fuck. This can't get any worse, so fine. Let's go."

He pulled out a vial, some kind of antidote, it didn't matter. He loaded it into a syringe and then positioned himself over Summer, right above the bed.

Rocket was perhaps the smartest being Peter had ever met. Though he would never say it to his face. Because it would go to his head. Rocket knew perfectly well that Summer… there was no one who could help her now. If he was doing this, it was for Peter. A symbolic gesture.

This isn't going to make me feel better, Peter thought. But thank you. Thank you, Rocket.

At least now I'll watch her die, he thought. That day, he hadn't taken his mother's hand. He had turned away. He had run without looking back. Then, that light from the sky had irrevocably changed the course of his life. He hadn't lost anything on Earth. He didn't regret that it had happened. The only thing he regretted was that he had been too much of a coward to stay there. At least it would have been one last good memory. Just good because they were together, despite the circumstances. Even if it was only for the last time.

At least now I'll watch her die, he thought again. And he did. She died in his arms. While Peter squeezed her hand tighter and tighter. As if begging her to feel it. A last-minute surprise, like in some TV show. But such a miracle didn't happen. She was dead. She was cold. She was farther away than any galaxy.

Now there was nothing there.

—

Star-Lord landed, setting Ruby down on the ground. He had reached his destination. Peter had left Ruby in the middle of the Guardians of the Galaxy, in the middle of their formation. He would bet without hesitation that this was the safest place still standing at Beacon Academy.

"You've grown so much," Gamora said.

"I am Groot."

"Who's arrived?" Rocket looked back, still perched on his friend's shoulder. And, of course, he didn't stop shooting. "Oh! The brat. She has grown, shame. She used to be so short."

Who cares?, Star-Lord thought.

Mantis placed a hand on Ruby's shoulder. The girl, of course, flinched. Mantis was a sweetheart. But it was hard to assume she was kind when your first impression was her pale face, her antennae, and those huge black eyes.

"I'm so sorry about your friend. Friends," she corrected.

"How… how do you know that…?" Ruby began to ask.

"Explanations later," Star-Lord said. "We've got a lot of work to do. Ruby, how about joining the Guardians of the Galaxy temporarily?"

Ruby smiled. Even in the midst of the chaos of battle. Despite everything. With what she loved hanging by a thread. Ruby smiled.

She takes after her mother, Peter thought. The same kind of smile.

"Nothing would make me happier."