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The day was 185. Peter knew it by heart because he was the one who started the count once his feet touched the face of the Earth.
That very first morning he felt like an astronaut walking on an unfamiliar planet. First breath of fresh Missouri air. First walk in the grandfather’s backyard next to small bushes. First encounter with a high spirited neighbour’s cat that stared at him with suspicion from the top of the fence. Peter listened to his grandfather gushing about how their town changed in the last twelve years and had the strangest of feelings. There was no life threatening task hanging above his head. There were no evil guys chasing him to the depth of the world. His grandpa’s wife Gloria handed him a cup of tea and that was the only priority under a midday sun. For the first time in a long time, Peter did not need to survive.
It was uncomfortable. First night, Peter paced his room upstairs like a captive animal. He listened to the silence of the night with distrust and reached out for a laser gun under his pillow at the sound of a cricket. The gravity pulled on his bones in a painful way, stretching that part of him that knew loss. A few times, he took out his space jacket hidden under the bed and took out a distress beacon. Once activated, it called for help — from above, beyond Earth. The beacon heated at the touch, and Peter held it, warm and reassuring, without pressing the button.
He asked grandpa and Gloria if he could help around the house. They had nothing in mind, so Peter walked around and came up with a list of his own. The roof was leaking, the paint on the wall had dried down, the large tree in front of the house touched the electrical wires high above. Grandfather followed Peter around, perhaps, to ensure he won’t turn from a miracle into a mirage. They spent the whole day fixing the lawn mower, and when Gloria came back from her shift in the local nursery home, she found the mower unassembled, the lawn unmowed and a couple of beers opened between them. Adjusting to a new routine came with pleasant little traditions like these, and Peter did not complain watching the sunset wash over the sky.
Retiling of the roof took Peter two weeks and two fingers, that became victims of him never handling a hammer. Grandfather, whose knees won’t allow him to climb the ladder, screamed instructions from the ground, and Peter screamed back, scaring curious neighbours. One of them, Mrs Wilkinson knocked on their door later with freshly backed scones. She was a youthful woman in her sixties, whose son visited her oh not so often!. Peter wondered why she shared this little detail, until she asked, teary-eyed, if he would take care of her lawn too. His list of tasks now had an addition of duties for Mrs Wilkinson too.
Fixing the fence between their houses came next and digging new poles into the ground was Peter’s least favorite thing. What he liked was venturing into the city and stopping at the nearest Home Depot for parts and such. Peter always enjoyed talking with strangers, and found himself striking conversations with other shoppers, people in the parking lot next to him and the cute blonde assistant, who laughed very hard each time he returned with more bandaged fingers and an occasional bruise. He was even invited to join a game of pool every other Friday at a nearby bar, but he never showed up. Some adjustments were harder than others, and Peter decided that grandpa Jason and Gloria were the only friends he needed.
More often than not, Peter stayed on the porch into the night and looked up at the large stars appearing above, one by one. He wondered how many other worlds stared back at him, how many of them he flew by or visited, how many of these they saved. Once he caught himself thinking how many inhabitants of these worlds knew his name. No, Peter shook his head, he was known under a different name then. Stars bathed him in their light, and he was no lord to any.
***
Thirty five days later Rocket visited with good news of his full recovery. Physical? Yes. Mental? To be desired. Peter asked him to wear a disguise to not shock his family, and Rocket projected a volumetric hologram of a fat, short man wherever he went. Next to each other, they appeared to be the unlikeliest of friends, and Peter said they met at work.
— Yes, construction, — Rocket said as he chewed on Gloria’s homemade spaghetti, — I am a team leader, and Peter was really good at following my orders.
Rocket’s ship was parked in orbit and he took only the essentials in a small capsule that was parked near the house under an invisible shield. These essentials suddenly came in handy when Rocket saw Peter struggling with clogged downspouts. In the next moment, a little robot crawled up the pipes and the whole day's work was finished in a few minutes. Peter tried to hide his list of tasks, but nothing could be concealed from Rocket’s ingenuity. The list that kept him sane was reduced by more than half much to his annoyance and Rocket’s pride.
On the 4th of July, they extended the cord of the TV to the back of the house to watch the game and grilled some meat. It took half an hour to explain to Rocket what baseball was about, and half an hour for grandad to understand how Rocket never watched a game in his life. Rocket told a sappy, untrue story about growing up in a strictly religious family, and rejoining the civilisation at the ripe age of forty. To shut him up, Peter suggested betting on the game results. When Rocket’s team won by a margin, he ran around the backyard, laughing like a maniac. Later, he ran away inside the house and emerged with a handful of annular batteries. In the next moment, fireworks of the most insane color bloomed above the house and Peter felt a wide smile creeping on his face. Gloria and grandfather clapped their hands, and Mrs Wilkinson yelped from across the fence in awe.
At midnight, when they said their goodbyes, Peter asked:
— Is anyone else coming?
— Yes, — Rocket nodded and fired up the engines.
***
Drax and Groot came with no prior warning and in full Guardian’s attire, but confused the address and scared the hell out of Mrs Wilkinson. They demanded to see Peter, and when she stared back, open mouthed, threatened to find Peter if she kept him somewhere. Peter explained that these two are his past-coworkers from the travelling circus. At home, grandfather Jason shook Drax’s hand with enthusiasm and said that in the army he had a friend with a skin condition. Gloria complimented Drax on his gardening skills and asked if it was heavy to carry a small tree around with him. The tree came to life and giggled, much to grandfather and Gloria’s surprise.
— Ah, the circus, — Drax pat Peter on the shoulder, — Your grandson was the smallest of the crew so I was responsible for throwing him in the air and catching him with one arm. I am incredibly well built.
They stayed for three days and four nights. Groot spent most of the time outside and refused to go inside even at night, preferring to sleep in the grass under the large oak tree. He became friends with Mrs Wilkinson’s cat that liked to climb on top of his head. Grandfather said he reminded him of Peter as a kid, when he too rolled in the dirt and did not listen to urges from adults. Peter denied these allegations and tried to teach Groot how to build a fence or use a hammer, but Groot ran away from any task. Instead, Peter taught him how to play catch, and every day Groot suggested playing catch with anything he saw — a raw egg, a cat, a slice of cheese. Grandfather joined them too, but could not keep up and preferred to watch them from the shadows, glass of water in hand.
Much to Peter’s surprise, grandad and Drax found a thin layer of humour they both operated in. Drax told the old man about his quest for revenge, strange traditions of his clan, and grandpa listened intently as if he was reading “The Count of Monte Christo” for the first time. To Gloria, Drax seemed to be a gentleman that helped to carry groceries, asked her questions about the nursing home where she worked and complimented her earrings. Only with Peter, Drax used his most crude jokes and laughed at his attempts to trim the overgrown tree.
When they were leaving, Peter felt a lump in his throat that he never admitted.
— Is anyone else coming?
— Of course, — Drax shut their ship’s door.
***
Mantis came the very next weekend and apologised profusely. She was busy with fitting a new batch of space migrants into Knowhere and lost track of time. Yes, everybody was safe and sound. No, there were no threats of intergalactic proportions that the guardians can’t deal with. And oh, you look like a real Earthling now!
Peter looked in the mirror and a tanned man with curly hair sticking out from under a cap stared back at him.
Grandad took to Mantis immediately. She elevated his joint pains by a single touch, and suddenly the old man tried to help Peter to finish the fence or led Gloria in a dance in their living room. Mantis read Peter’s list of tasks with enthusiasm, and together, they went to buy a fresh set of floor paint and brushes. Mantis had an exciting conversation with a Home Depot assistant, whose name turned out to be Vivien. The three of them spent a long time in the paint section. Vivien asked Peter if he had a favorite color, perhaps.
— Blue, — Mantis nodded, assured, and Peter did not contradict her, worrying more about a blush creeping up his neck.
When they got back into the car, he showed Mantis a piece of paper that Vivien slipped to him. He expected her phone number, and was not wrong: her number was written over a hiring ad for part time shop assistants. No matter how Mantis begged Peter to accept this exciting mission, he refused. He could not see himself helping people or working with others or wearing a uniform.
— But you have years of experience in exactly that! — Mantis laughed.
At dinner, grandpa and Gloria shared a story of how they met — at work, actually. Gloria used to be a librarian and Jason did research for an article in the local gazette. They took the same elevator in the same building, ate in the same canteen and even went to the same bar after hours, but their paths never crossed. Until on a bright afternoon day, he walked in and asked for a biography on Lincoln, and Gloria raised a book that she was reading on her duty — exactly the book he was looking for. Mantis loved that story so much, she acted like she never heard it the next day only for them to tell it again.
With repainting of the house walls, came an idea of cleaning up the attic. Grandfather wanted Peter’s friends to have a place of their own when they came to visit. They brightened it up with new wall paper, and set up a new window in the slope of the roof. Among these busy moments, Peter did not notice that Mantis stayed for two weeks, then for a month. The days went by only faster since. They went for groceries, they baked pies with Gloria, they bought flowers at the local farmer’s market and planted them next to the porch. Having a person of his own age around made Peter feel alive. He smiled more, laughed more, he slept better. He even joined that pool night at the local bar and met new Earthlings, which made Mantis very proud.
Peter thought that was her mission— to set his social life, and when she was done, she would pack her bags. He was about to ask her that, on the way back from the farmer’s market, when he heard sounds of heavy breathing from the backseat. Gloria gasped and opened grandad’s shirt collar.
— Too much time in the sun, — grandpa smiled at Peter in the rear view mirror, and a cold feeling squeezed Peter’s heart.
When the car stopped in front of the house, Peter helped grandfather inside. Mantis got him to sleep, and silence settled over the room. Gloria explained that it happened, from time to time, and the doctor said this was a healthy sign of aging. Peter volunteered to fetch prescription medicine from a 24 hour apothecary on another side of town. He drove and drove and could not stop, making another turn, and another and seeing the sun slowly rising above the city. He felt eight years old again, but there was no beam of light taking him away into deep space and thrusting him into a complete new world. There was an empty house, errands to run and a brave face to put on. Peter found it harder than learning how to squeeze into small places from Yondu. Being Peter from Missouri was harder than to be Starlord ever was.
Two sleepless days later, grandfather Jason was back to his usual self and joined Peter on the porch. No matter how many times he said he was fine, Gloria and Peter did not leave his side. But Mantis started packing. Apparently, Rocket needed everybody for this next, important mission.
— Everybody? — Peter echoed.
For a moment, he remembered about the stars blinking at him across the vast, eternal universe. Peter saw her at the door, where she kissed grandpa on the cheek and promised to visit very soon.
— Is anyone else coming? — Peter finally gathered the courage to ask.
— Who do you mean? — she smiled and gave him a hug.
***
There were no outer space guests for the longest time after her. And life just went on.
Peter marked the day 100 in a calendar above his bed, and wondered if the restlessness would ever leave him. When Peter went out to run errands, he was worried about grandpa at home, and when he was at home, he listened to the door, worrying if anyone would knock and he wouldn't hear. At night, Peter sat on the porch in the dark and sometimes woke up with the first sunlight hitting his face. The beacon appeared between his fingers again, warm and reassuring, and Peter knew he had to get himself going somehow.
A few days later he applied for the part time job in Home Depot. He got a call ten minutes later and returned to the store to start his first shift. Vivien helped him settle in and explained how to help customers with a smile. Peter with his experience in defeating villains with pure wit imagined it to be the easiest job in the universe. Then a local farmer came in and asked for a specific shape screw that had helped his tractor to work since 2002. Peter spent an hour searching for it, and each time he showed a screw to the guy, he received a resounding nah. When they finally found the right one, the farmer was so grateful, that Peter felt like he saved the world, one screw at a time.
Peter spent his first paycheck on bringing his grandpa to see a baseball game. Their seats came with free flow snacks and sugary drinks, but Peter watched grandfather Jason like a hawk and did not let him have any. On the way back, they picked up Gloria from work and had a quiet dinner at home. It was Friday night, and both of them tried to convince Peter to go out and enjoy his young life. Peter did not feel young. He felt like a thousand year ghosts haunting an estate. But he promised them that next Friday he won’t be home before midnight.
This made Vivien very happy. She tried to pull him out for drinks after work every day, and he always refused. For a good reason, Peter thought, as Vivien bombarded him with many personal questions and he tried to navigate a minefield of his past with care.
— I’ve been in love, — he shrugged as if he did not want to run outside and howl at the moon, — But I’m… out of love now.
Vivien nodded with understanding and told him a story of her boyfriend who left Missouri without saying a word and never came back. It was like he never existed, and for the longest time she waited for him to reappear, suddenly rich and famous, or knock on her door on Christmas with a really good excuse. Over time, she only grew bitter and angry.
— If he walks into this bar right now, I’ll throw a pint at him, I’ll scream, — Vivien admitted with a sad smile, — Which means I still care.
Her words rang in his ears, and Peter ordered a couple of shots to get rid of an uneasy feeling. He, too, had to say goodbye to someone against his will. He, too, was not fully over it. He, too, had a person in mind he’d like to scream at. Vivien raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued. Peter did not dare to tell her that the person he mentioned might be two different people entirely.
After a few more drinks, Peter knew he had no way to go home. Vivien, the more sober one, took over the keys and they drove, very slowly, by the side of the road, and yelled songs that came out on the radio. When the car stopped in front of the house, Vivien pointed at the porch and Peter squinted, unsure what he saw.
A strong, tall figure stood next to his grandpa and Gloria. As Peter and Vivien approached, he recognised the smooth shape of her head and heard a familiar click of the left elbow she refused to fix for the longest time. Her dark eyes set on him firmly, and Peter grew cold and hot and sweaty.
— Nice to meet you, — she shook Vivien’s hand, — I’m Nebula.
This was when Peter threw up over everybody’s shoes.
***
The next morning, she was gone. Peter sat in the chair nursing a glass of water and looked around searching for any traces of her visit. He asked grandpa if she said anything else apart from introducing herself as a sister of Peter’s friend.
— She only wanted to know how you’re doing, — grandfather shrugged.
As the worst headache he ever had faded away, memories of the last evening came back to Peter and he remembered Nebula’s strong arms pushing him gently into bed. She covered him with a blanket up to the chin and let him get a hold of her cold, metal fingers.
— Where have you been? — he whispered.
— Not too far, — she replied.
***
In the few weeks that followed, Peter took a few extra shifts and returned home way after dark. Perhaps, his heart skipped a bit as he stared inside dark windows of the house expecting familiar silhouettes to appear. Perhaps, he shrugged it off with an indifference that he did not possess. But it helped. At work, his dedication earned him an employee of the month, and he did not refuse the party. Vivien joked that he stole the title from her, a three timer. She did not ask him of that awkward evening in his house, and he was grateful. And when she kissed him on the cheek that night with sincere congratulations, he got flustered.
This was how Rocket found him, sitting on the porch deep in thought.
— What’s cooking, good looking? — Rocket tinkered with his disguise equipment, — What? Mantis said that’s how you talk to each other around here.
In the morning, little robots cleaned up the roof from fallen leaves and trimmed the bushes. Peter suggested for Rocket to come to Home Depot with him, unsure if his friend disguised as a short, fat man would help with cutting away the tension, or would only make it worse. Rocket followed Vivien around with tons of questions about how systems in the store worked. Then he reprogrammed reach trucks and scanners to fill in empty shelves on their own, and it was Vivien’s turn to follow him around with reverence. But no one was happier to see the construction man return, but Mrs Wilkison who had pages of tasks that her slacker son failed to do. Rocket’s little bots helped the lady too. Then he almost blew his disguise as Mrs Wilkinson went in for a hug that Peter fortunately prevented.
— Someone’ll come soon, — Rocket said, as he boarded the ship the same night.
Peter nodded in acknowledgement, although he did not ask.
***
A few mornings later, Peter awoke with alien, light blue eyes staring down at him. He screamed, and Drax almost pissed himself laughing. The rest of the day was spent making sure he wouldn't tell that story to anybody they saw on the street. A peaceful weekend turned into a chaotic affair involving many games of catch, refusing to buy a gaggle of geese for Groot and removing Drax from a lovable group of old ladies in Gloria’s place of work.
By Monday, Peter was exhausted, and when Drax and Groot boarded the space capsule, he felt a bitter sweet relief washing over him.
— Maybe, you guys should come together, — Peter patted Drax on the shoulder, — Instead of following the schedule.
— What schedule? — Drax muttered and avoided his eyes.
***
On the day 150, Peter knew he was right when Mantis knocked on their door. She brought some good-looking lights from Knowhere and they put them up along the ceiling in the attic. With her presence, grandfather regained red in his cheeks and spring in his step. Gloria and grandfather would ask her to stay longer if she ever wanted. But maybe Peter would hesitate, maybe, he would take a second to figure out how he felt.
More shifts only made him more restless. He got annoyed at the slightest inconvenience and preferred to go on long rides after work, instead of joining family dinners. It did not seem to bother Mantis or her plans. She dragged him to after work drinks with Vivien, she signed them both up for a pool competition, she found him an amateur dad group to play ball with on the weekend. He complied with the feeling of a man sentenced for hanging.
— Your sister is fun, — Vivien told him that evening after an exhausting round of a few pool games and nodded at Mantis trying to score at darts, — She makes you smile.
— She’s the best sister I could’ve asked for, — he nodded, feeling the bitter taste of whiskey and guilt in his mouth.
— I’d like to make you smile this way, If you let me, — and Peter choked.
On the way back home, Mantis poked him with curious questions and Peter dodged every one of them. He felt like there was not enough air in his room that night, and opened the window. His hand reached for the beacon hidden in the jacket. It was already hot to the touch and pulsating. Peter found it strange and held it in his fingers until the warm surface turned back to cold metal.
— You just can’t quit, — Mantis told him the next day, — Just talk to her. Come on!
But instead Peter called his manager and asked to change his shifts. When a few days later, Mantis boarded her little capsule to return to Knowhere, she was still unhappy with him. Peter did not utter a word and waved at her goodbye.
***
The six month mark came closer, and Peter stayed closer to the house. He picked up less shifts and every grocery run was done at an unprecedented speed. Gloria laughed that Peter grew wings. By the end of two weeks, no one came. By the end of the third, Peter’s simmering disappointment turned back into anger. The night he crossed 180 days, he heard the sound of a ship touching the ground near the house. Peter jumped on his feet and ran downstairs, forgetting himself. When he opened the door, a smile melted off his face.
— Not happy to see me, huh? — Rocket said.
They shared a long silence, sitting on the porch in the dark.
— We’re not visiting for your sanity. We miss your stupid face too, — Rocket said, — She just wanted you to have us around until you’re ready to let go, like getting the dosage smaller until you’re healthy or some such. I’m not versed in the feelings of you, people.
By the end of the night Peter found himself more lost than before. He reached out and showed Rocket the beacon.
— It overheats sometimes. Maybe it's broken?
— This is half of the beacon. It sends a signal to the other half and receives the signal back.
— You have the other half?
— Nah.
***
The next day Peter did not show up to work. He drove Gloria to the nursing home and had breakfast with her and the old ladies that asked where his good-looking friend was. Whether they meant Rocket or Drax, he could not tell. The same day, he took his grandfather for a drive. They visited the city museum where Jason pointed at black and white photos of how the town used to look fifty years ago. On the drive back, they listened to his mother’s favorite tunes. Later he picked up the phone and called a familiar number.
— If you told me I’m great one more time, I’ll kick your ass, — Vivien said at the end of his long and winding speech full of apologies, — I get it, Pete. I’m further along on the road. Good luck with that person you’d like to scream at. She seems nice.
As the lights in the house went dark, Peter took out his space jacket, backpack and boots. A few minutes later, he walked out to the street and walked all the way to the edge of the city. He went further into the fields until the houses became shimmering, faraway lights. There, in the tall grass around him, he took out the beacon and pressed the button. A vibration went through the device and died down. Silence settled in again, and Peter looked around, lost and confused.
In the next moment, a tall beam of light fell from the sky and he felt like a victim of a UFO encounter. The light searched the ground around him, and turned off. The ship landed nearby, and the invisible shield went up. Peter watched the door open at the back and heard the engine dying out. When Nebula stepped out, she lingered, as if unsure.
— Quill, — the familiarity of it exhilarated him, but he did not show it.
— Ah, you’re here? Let’s go.
Peter reached the door in a few big steps, and she stood in his way.
— Where to?
— Back to Knowhere.
— No, — Nebula put her hand up.
— No?
— I won’t let you.
— You’re not the boss of me! — Peter stepped to the side, so did she.
Nebula’s hand met his chest. He pressed forward, without much result, and dropped his backpack ready to wrestle.
— You’re angry.
— If you’re such a master of human emotions, let’s see if you can also figure out why I am so fucking angry! — he said loudly, and Nebula gave him a look, — No? Allright, I’ll go first! I can’t believe you could not stay for a day. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to her, and I thought that you at least— I—
The next scream stuck in his throat and he turned around, walking away through the tall grass. The jacket felt hot and heavy on his shoulders, and he threw it on the ground. Her voice sounded somewhere in the darkness behind him.
— You left first, — Peter turned to face her, his mouth opened in indignation, and she continued, — But I don’t see it turning your losses into memory. So now you want to drag me in there with you?
— Instead of what? Hiding your feelings so deeply inside you are barely alive?
— I don’t nurse a lost limb, I reattach it, I move on.
— This does not make you better than me!
— It makes me not her!
— I’ve never asked you to be! Wanna be just a sister of a friend? Good for you! Because everyone I love dies.
Nebula shifted in her place.
— Mom, Yondu, Gamora. I look at my grandad and I’m already saying goodbye. Maybe it’s better I’m not here when it happens.
The words hang in the air between them.
— Fire up the engines, let’s go, — Peter added quietly.
— I won't let you run away again, — Nebula shook her head.
— Who put you in charge?
— You did when you left, she did when she died.
— I’ll relieve you of this duty.
— Quill, everything ends, that’s just… life.
— You don’t.
— Because I am metal? Because I replace parts of me with machinery? If I am so solid, how am I broken?
— I’m coming with you.
— No.
— Alright. You are in no use to me. Give it up then.
Nebula’s eyes flashed with something like anger. She pulled a zip of her uniform down and took out what looked like an exact copy of his beacon. As she held it in her fingers, he felt his pocket heating up. Peter reached out and held out a warm beacon on his palm. This was when he saw: they were not copies, but two halves of one.
She dropped hers into his hand, and the familiar warmth dissipated into cold night air. A rush of regret came over Peter like a sudden wave. A few moments passed, or maybe a few hours or days, and neither of them moved, staring at two pieces of the beacon that fit perfectly together.
— I just wanted to keep an eye on you, — Nebula cleared her throat, — But the truth is you don’t need me, not like I need you.
— Then what the fuck am I doing here, in the middle of the night?
— Being a fool.
— You’re the only one who can see it, this darkness in me. Maybe, because you’ve been through it or you’re it, — Peter stumbled over his words, — And all this time I kept wondering who is taking care of you there, when I’m here.
Nebula’s eyes watched him carefully.
— I’ve never been a person someone waits for.
— And I waited anyway, — he shrugged.
***
The rising sun found them sitting on top of the ship staring into the distance. At some point of the night, Peter put his jacket over her shoulders, chivalrous and proud, and Nebula laughed when he shivered a minute later. She gave the jacket back and placed her metal hand on his elbow. And for the briefest moment, there was peace.
They did not exchange hugs or promises. Peter picked up his jacket and backpack and walked out. Nebula waved at him from the door. As her ship went up into the air and left, leaving no visible trace behind, Peter breathed out, feeling the gravity of the world pulling him down. He rolled his shoulders and walked through the field toward the city, feeling half of the beacon warm in his pocket.
The day was 185 and there were many more such days for him on this planet he called home and on some of these days she’d visit, on some of these days they’d be fools together. And that was enough.