Chapter Text
As the Malino zoomed through the foamy dust and stars of the unknown cosmos, a single man awoke from his sleep. Peter Quill stared at the ceiling for a moment. The images that swam through his mind clouded his senses in remorse. Star-Lord then got to his feet, and mounted the stairs, leaving his quarters.
In the corridor, he gave a weak smile and wave to Rocket, who grinned back. Groot, the tree-like being, waved from his little pot. Peter continued on, his footsteps quiet. He reached into his pocket and fished out his Walkman and headphones. Placing them snugly about his head, the former Ravager upped the volume and clambored into the captain seat, then took the wheel.
Meanwhile, Gamora strode through the hallway, her long hair flickering about in time to her footsteps. She nodded to a shirtless man with cobalt skin and swirling red tattoos, who was wiping off a wicked dagger into a cloth. "Hello, Drax," she said, smiling briefly. He returned the smile, pausing in his work. "Greetings, friend Gamora. Are you of good health as of late?" She chuckled. "I'm alright, thank you." The assassin glanced around. "Have you seen Peter anywhere?" Drax shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have not. He ought to have made his presence known by now. That alone is odd." Gamora hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, thanks anyway." She resumed her walk, which eventually led her to the cockpit. There, she found the Star-Lord, who sat steering the Malino, his eyes blank and distant, fixated only on the endless dark before him. Gamora could faintly hear the serene melody that played from the tiny orange earphones. The woman reached forward, resting her hand lightly on the headrest of the seat. "Peter?" She called quietly.
In the memory, A woman sat with her young child on a rolling hill, the grass swaying to the whispering tune of the wind. The mother and son stared up at the perfect blue sky, watching as the puffy clouds moved slowly through the heavens. "Mommy?" the boy began, facing the woman. He studied her beautiful, familiar features; the soft contour of her cheekbone and jaw, the plump rose of her lips, and her pale, flawless complexion. His heart sank at the bandanna that was wound around her thinning hair. "Yes, Peter?" Meredith Quill turned to her son. "Why don't I have a daddy?" She laughed softly. "What do you mean, honey?" A pouting frown creased the boy's young features. "All my friends have dads, ones who play with them and help them, and.." he averted his gaze. "It's just not fair," he whispered sadly.
Meredith reached out and cupped her son's cheek, brushing away the angry tears from his eyes. She pulled him close, stroking his hair affectionately, placing a kiss in his curly locks. "Oh, Peter," she sighed. "Of course you have a daddy. He loves you very much, too. But..he has to love you from a distance. Okay?" Peter looked up into his mother's eyes. "Okay." He buried himself in her chest. "I love you, mommy." He could feel the laughter that hummed from her skin. "I love you too, my little Star-Lord."
The scene shifted. Meredith had completely lost all of her hair, showing her deathly pale skin that seemed to cling to her lithe frame. Her breath came in harsh gasps. "Peter, take my hand," she begged, tears forming in the corners of her pale eyes. Peter shook his head rapidly, whimpering in protest. The ECG machine began to beep erratically. "No, no, no!" Peter whispered.
Then, in horrible synchronization, Meredith's eyelids fell close, as the machine signaled its tell-tale flatline.
Peter lunged for his mother's lifeless body, screaming her name, to wake up, wake up...!
"Peter?"
Gamora called again, leaning to the side. She tried to make the ex Ravager's eyes meet hers.
But, as she saw his face, Gamora saw the tears that streamed from Peter's eyes. She saw his chest shudder to his quiet sobs. The assassin looked down. A picture frame sat in his lap, in which Peter's thumb stroked the glass surface, smearing the fallen tears around on the covering.
Gamora leaned closer to the photo.
It was a picture of a woman and a young boy. She was beautiful, and youthfulness was clear in her face. Her features were as smooth as velvet. The boy had clearly inherited this trait; his hair was a mass of light curls that fell slightly in his bright eyes. The smile on his face was so happy; the love for his mother was perfectly etched into it. The embrace between them was tight and adoring.
A statement was carved into the frame: Meredith and Peter.
Gamora made the grave conclusion.
It was Peter and his mother.
Sighing softly, the woman sat in the opposite seat, and directed steering control to her wheel. She glanced at her motionless teammate, watching a single tear trickle from his eye. "I'm sorry, Peter," she whispered.
With that, Gamora directed herself to the endless haze of stars before her.