Chapter Text
"I'm so sorry Mr Quill, but it is inoperable." even after a week and a half, the sentence has not yet seemed to dawn on him.
The headaches start the second year after his return to Terra. He thought that it was just his body getting used to settling down on Terra by catching some bugs, ignoring the fact that he has never been affected by any of the hundreds of planets he has landed his feet on throughout his admirable journey as Ravagers and then the Guardians of the Galaxy.
Guess he should've known better, that all the headaches and clumsiness are something abnormal.
What started as mild pressure behind his eyes, turns into a stabbing pain that prevents him from waking up in the morning or sleeping at night. Sometimes it makes him nauseous and tired but somehow he managed to push it down, downplaying it for another process of his body adapting to Terra and saunter along for another year.
The ignorance might be rooted in how simple living in Terra is. Having a comfortable breakfast in the morning with his grandfather and Tiana, his wife, watching television, riding a bicycle along the neighborhood while terrorizing the young vandals in the street, and listening to more music from the internet. Life has been great despite the ever-growing headaches that he doesn't give a shit about.
He finally went to the doctor after being urged rather aggressively by his grandfather after collapsing in the middle of dinner. When he had come to his senses, he feels like such a horrendous person having his grandfather kneeling right beside him, his cane long forgotten on the floor, and eyes filled with worries and panic. He couldn't even remember that he was having dinner and he realized that maybe the sharp pain is not because of Terra.
He doesn't understand, how is it that after all of the things that he had survived, he's going to be defeated by a mere glioblastoma. For fuck's sake he managed a really problematic intergalactic space shits with little to no consequences but was given a death sentence by something with such a silly name?
There are consequences, are you forgetting all the people who have died because of you?
He shook his pounding head violently. This is really not a good time to give attention to his little demon that has been nested in his head.
Ever since he visited the doctor, his grandfather has been worried sick because Peter has done nothing but shut himself up in his room. He feels extremely awful now, physically and mentally.
But honestly, what the fuck is he supposed to fucking tell a 94-year-old man that has lost his daughter to a tumor and grieved for the past 60 years and finally moved on when his only grandchild decided to come back home only 5 years ago and only to be told that this dear grandchild of his will also be taken by the same filthy thing that has taken his daughter's life?
So Peter grieves.
He continues locking himself in his room, thinking it must've been a wrong diagnosis, he can't be dying right? Moreover, the tumor in his mother's head was his father's doing all along therefore it cannot be inherited.
But the cancer is not inherited. It's just him.
He really cannot wrap his head around it, it's just ridiculous. He's like half celestial isn't he? So how is it that he's dying because of a thumb-sized tumor when he managed to explode a whole planet?
But Ego has long dead, and the celestial power in him has gone with it.
So he rages, he rages endlessly. Breaking the mirror and the closet doors, resulting in a worried knock from the other side of the door.
"I'm fine! Stop bothering me Jason!" oh now he feels more angry. He's just a bigger dick now that not only does he angry at himself for dying but also angry at someone who cares about him that might also be dying in his old age.
Fuck this cancer, fuck being a Terran, fuck Terra, fuck everyone, and fuck himself for fucking this hard.
Now that he thinks of it maybe just maybe, he should be dying. He supposes to die a slow painful death such as this. Everyone he has loved always ended up dead at the end of the day. As if the harder he try to grasp them in his embrace the easier they slip and fall to their death.
If he lives much longer, then more people that he loves will soon find their demise, all thanks to him. Last time, Rocket almost die in front of him. No, Rocket had died. His heart has stopped right in front of him. All because of his stupid doings.
He had enough of death, of his mom, Yondu, and Gamora.
Oh, Gamora.
But Gamora is not dead. She's alive and currently living life as a Ravager, happy with her new family.
During the period of saving Rocket and defeating the High Evolutionary, he had wondered if there was still a bit of Gamora, his Gamora, somewhere in her cold, icy gaze.
she says.
And at that moment he understands that even though he loved Gamora with all his heart, this wasn’t the Gamora he loved. And he had to let her go.
But understanding does not necessarily mean accepting.
Peter has stayed up all night long telling himself that he has been alright, that it's okay that things have turned out this way for both of them, for him. Sometimes he'll put his records on, indulging his little imagination, dancing with the ghost of her in his arm.
And one of these nights he finally accepts that she's not dead, she's just no longer his.
It still hurts to think of their memories sometimes, and he misses them. Not just Gamora, all of them, his family. When the dull pain in his head starts pulsing vehemently, he can't help but miss Mantis. He wishes Mantis could just hold his hand or touch his hair while whispering words of assurance that make the hammering in his head stop and float his soul away to the realm of dreams.
He misses tuning into her banter with Drax. It leaves him cackling most of the time and annoyed for the rest of it but oh how he realized now that was how home sounds like. It sounds like the whirring of engines, Mantis and Drax's banters, Nebula's snarky remarks, Rocket's scoldings, and strings of "I am Groot.".
Oh god, Peter misses home. It had just been 5 years but he aches for them endlessly even in the presence of his grandfather, his only blood relative.
But he misses them, and he is dying. And he doesn't think he'd like to leave the world without meeting his family one last time, and maybe take off for a final adventure.
So he took a long shower to reduce the pain in his head and thoroughly cleanse himself of the shadow of grieves. "Shit" is the automatic response when he finally caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, he can't help the dark circle but he decides to shave off his thick beard and trims down the hair that has been sticking out over his ear. He dresses up in black jeans and a black t-shirt, zipping up a red leather jacket he used to love wearing so much until Gamora started to complain about the consistency of his outfit.
He jumps to get a backpack that sits primly at the corner of the top of his closet, the bag contains everything he will be needing to go back to space. He'd thought that he might not be needing this bag at first but kept it anyway just in case Terra gets bored and starts to feel like living in expired yogurt. But oh the one that is expiring is him, and he chuckles bitterly at the fact. Not forgetting to shove in his walkman and painkiller before securing the bag up.
He gets out of his room for the first time in 2 weeks and immediately locks eyes with his grandfather who sits right across Tiana at the dining table. His heartbeat quickened as the surge of bravery and anxiety run up his spine. "Peter? Are you okay? You haven't opened the door for the past couple of weeks, we've been worried about your health." Tiana asked.
Peter can't seem to answer Tiana's question. But Jason knows, from the gaze of his grandchild that Peter has decided to leave. So Jason stands up and walks across the room, closing the distance between them. He embraces his grandchild as if it is the first day he came back to earth five years ago.
Peter's chest gnawed at how he felt so safe in such a fragile hug, he could feel his eyes warming up with a hot liquid that manage to blur his sight.
"I'm sorry Jason, but I-" Jason let go of him while shaking his head slowly. "It's alright Pete, it's time for you to go home." Peter's lip forms a melancholic smile, "But I am home." Jason shook his head again, bringing up his hand, caressing his grandchild's face tenderly. "Home is not a place, it's the people Pete. You should go back home now." Peter sobs on the frail shoulder of his grandfather.
"I love you. Thank you so much for accepting me back even after all of these years." Jason pat Peter's arms gently, "This is your mother's home, so they are yours too. I love you too Pete, thank you for giving me the chance of seeing and knowing you again."
So Peter parts with Jason and Tania Quill, with a smile on his face despite the tears streaming down his cheeks. His throat bobbing, swallowing the fact that this will be the last time he'd be seeing both of them, and decides to give them a big hug and a truly genuine smile.