Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Peter first sees Knowhere, he is supposed to react with awe, and so he does. But underneath that, there is a crawling beneath his skin: a feeling of wrongness completely alien to anything he has experienced before. It sits somewhere between existentialism and a realisation of his place in the Universe, the two paradoxes clashing, creating a twisting in his gut. The closest he can think of is the first time he came across a dead bird, its body mangled by some predator. He’d been seven, at the time, old enough to know what death was but too young to know what it entailed. His mother had found him, minutes or hours later, crying over the bird’s corpse. ‘Oh, my little Star-Lord,’ she’d breathed, the words soft, a mournful whisper, ‘I’m sorry.’ With his back turned, Peter’d missed the way her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. ‘I’m sorry, Peter, but all things have to die sometime.’

‘Even you, mom?’ he’d asked between sobs.

She’d stayed quiet for a little while, after that, before finally answering, ‘Even me.’

It was later that day that he’d found out that her cancer was terminal, and understood what that meant.

Now, he doesn’t say anything, because what is he supposed to say? ‘Uh, guys, the creepy floating skull is giving me a bad feeling.’ Rocket would laugh at him for a week straight.

So he remains silent, and shoves the feeling to the recesses of his mind. He listens to music with Gamora and breaks up the fight between Rocket and Drax whilst stubbornly ignoring its existence. He’s quite successful at it, too, at least until they meet with the Collector. Tivan looks at them all like they’re specimens he wants for his collection, and it just adds to the ice tip-toeing its way up and down Peter’s spine. Never one to listen to the voice in the back of his head telling him not to, he hands over the orb, and listens in uncharacteristic silence as Tivan explains the cosmic horror that are Infinity Stones.

When the Collector tells them to ‘Observe’, Peter turns and the feeling intensifies a thousand fold. The being on the projection - for no other word does the creature any justice, even though he knows, instinctually, that this is another Celestial like the one he now stands within - is something otherworldly. As he watches it destroy a planet by simply touching its staff to the surface, a wave of fear engulfs him, drowning him beneath its depths. Judging by the others’ silence, their reactions are much the same. But underneath that, swirling in the water’s currents, is another feeling he cannot put a name to. Familiarity, maybe, if he had to put units on it, but that doesn’t make any sense: he’s never heard of a Celestial before today.

Before he can spend any time considering it, Carina grabs the Stone and shit hits the fan. Too much of his attention is taken up just trying to survive over the next few days to give the feeling any more thought. In fact, he’s all but forgotten it was ever there in the first place until after he holds the Stone and Dey tells him they noticed an anomaly on his scans. As soon as Nova Prime mentions that his father is ‘ancient’ (and he ignores the age gap that suggests, because, eww), things start clicking into place. It’s a crazy theory, to think he might be half cosmic being, or whatever, but he was kidnapped by space pirates at eight and formerly shared a ship with a talking raccoon and a sentient tree, so crazy pretty much went out the window two decades ago. Even so, he doesn’t say anything about it to the others, less because of a fear of ridicule this time and more due to the worry that they might not dismiss it, and he doesn’t like to think about what implications that has for him.

So he goes on like that for months, only allowing himself to think about who and what his father might be in the small hours of the night when sleep is nothing more than a distant fantasy.

And then comes the battery job, and his world is once again titled on its axis.

—-

Peter’s happy with a job well done when he turns to leave the Sovereign's throne room, already plotting what he’s going to spend the units from Nebula’s bounty on, but stops in his tracks when the High Priestess asks, ‘What is your heritage, Mr. Quill?’ He knows exactly what she means, but acts like he doesn’t, in the hope it’ll get her to drop the topic. He’s disappointed when she asks, ‘And your father?’ Deflecting with humour doesn’t work either, and all he can do is listen as Ayesha bangs on about his ‘unorthodox genealogy’. Her words only add fuel to the fire that is the mystery around his parentage, and he is incredibly thankful when Rocket of all people interrupts, shooting him an obvious wink.

Later, he brings the matter up to Gamora, mainly because it would be weird not to. He doesn’t go into any of the detail a part of him wants to, a part that’s grown in the months since this team first came together, but it must be obvious that he’s been thinking about it, as she comments on him being ‘sensitive’ about his father. And - ok, yeah, he is, but she doesn’t need to call him out on it. So he changes the subject, and then has to suffer through Drax’s talk. Given the choice between that or piloting through a quantum asteroid field, he’d much rather the latter - and lucky him, because the Universe decides to give him both. Which is fine, y’know, he’ll at least die doing something cool.

By some miracle - or, as Rocket would say, excellent piloting - they make it out of the field alive and relatively intact. And then the Universe once again decides to screw them over by having the whole Sovereign fleet surround them. Peter’s done some pretty bad shit in his life, sure, but he doesn’t think he’s done anything terrible enough to deserve death by a thousand lasers. They saved the whole freakin’ Galaxy, for flip’s sake!

Just when he thinks it might all be over, the fleet explodes. It would be quite an incredible sight to behold, too, if his attention wasn’t taken up flying a falling-apart ship. Besides, the feeling has returned again, and it gives him an idea of what might’ve caused the explosion. When Rocket says, ‘It’s a guy,’ Peter realises his idea may be more of a fact. He stays quiet as he pilots the ship through the jump point. She’s going down, he knows, but he’ll try his damndest to make sure his family team is alive when she does.

The crash isn’t pretty, and neither is his argument with Rocket, but that’s how his team shows their love, he’s come to realise. They are interrupted by the arrival of a ship, causing them to prepare for a fight. When it becomes clear that the ship means them no harm, they relax, and Peter gets his first proper look at it: it looks a bit like an egg in both shape and colour, with holes cut across it that cast a warm, golden glow. As he stares at it, the feeling amps up its intensity, although now that weird sense of familiarity is at the forefront.

The ship opens, and a man and a woman step out. The man says, ‘After all these years, I’ve found you.’

Peter doesn’t need to ask who this man is. Something in him instinctively knows that this is his father - like calling to like even though they’ve never met before. He does, anyway, just to silence any lingering doubt. ‘And who the hell are you?’

‘I figured my rugged good looks would make that obvious,’ he answers. There’s obvious humour in the words, but beneath that, there’s a warm sort of mirth: this man knows that Peter knows, but is delighted that he gets to say it anyway. ‘My name is Ego…and I’m your dad, Peter.’

—-

Ego explains that he hired Yondu to pick him up. His first question is: why not just come yourself, but now doesn’t seem like the time to ask, and besides, it’s not exactly the most pressing thing on his mind. The worry that has been present in his thoughts for the last few months has fallen away, replaced by the ecstasy of finally having found his father! Or, more accurately, his father finally having found him.

Ego mentions his ‘very special heritage’, and Peter can already guess what he’s going to say. But that’s all pushed to the side when Ego says, ‘Finally get to be the father I’ve always wanted to be.’ And that’s all Peter’s ever wanted, really, since before he was abducted: back when bullies would pick on him for not having a dad and his mother would hug him and tell him that his father came from the stars, and loved him very, very much.

It’s all he’s ever wanted and it sounds too good to be true, and that’s what makes him tell Gamora that he’s not buying it, even if the feeling tells him otherwise. They go for a walk, and words spill out of him, as they often do. He’s not sure if he believes all of them, but his head and his heart are telling him two different things, which only complicates everything. Surprisingly, Gamora convinces him to go. To be fair, the argument of, ‘If he ends up being evil, we’ll just kill him,’ is a pretty convincing one.

—-

Mantis revealing his - crush - on Gamora is embarrassing, but Peter’s just glad that she doesn’t mention the feeling. He’s not sure he could explain it even if he tried.

But he catches her eye, after she’s put Drax to sleep, and something in her gaze tells him she knows. He isn’t sure how to feel about how terrified it makes her look.

—-

Ego’s planet is beautiful. With its golden sunlight and turquoise lakes, framed by towers of spiraling trees, it is the picture perfect utopia. But more than that, it reminds Peter of his best memories of Earth: chasing after bubbles with his mom, laughing when they popped on his face; swimming in lakes during the summer, the sun warm on his back; the worlds his mom would tell stories of to get him to sleep. It feels like home, in a way that nowhere has in nearly three decades.

They get off the floating platform and start walking towards a palace made from glass. Peter’s so transfixed by the planet that he almost misses Gamora saying, ‘You own a planet and can destroy two dozen space ships without a suit. What are you, exactly?’

Peter knows what Ego’s going to say. Even so, when he answers, ‘I’m what’s called a Celestial, sweetheart,’ Peter stops.

‘A Celestial, like a God?’ he asks, just to make sure: he’s been in space for a long time, long enough to know that not everyone holds the same definitions.

Ego stops and turns. ‘Mmm, small “g”, son,’ he says. ‘At least on the days I’m feeling humble as Drax.’ Chuckling, he carries on up the stairs.

Before Peter can follow, Gamora rests a hand on his shoulder. ‘Peter?’ she asks.

‘I’m okay,’ he nods. He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince, to be honest, but she releases his shoulder and they follow after Ego.

The inside of the palace is equally as impressive - if not more so - than the outside. Peter’s never been the greatest appreciator of art, apart from how much he can sell it for, but the beauty of it takes his breath away.

They all listen as Ego explains his origin. He tells them about being alone in the cosmos, and of his desire to find evidence that he wasn’t alone. It makes for a great story, but a part of Peter wonders if it is just that. He knows, from some late night/early morning research, that Celestials are some of, if not the, oldest beings in the Universe, and isn’t sure how Ego was alone for so many years, considering that.

Before he can question it, a voice, Ego’s voice, sounds in his head. I’ll answer your questions, son, I promise, he says - or maybe thinks. Peter’s not really sure what qualifies as the correct terminology for telepathic communication.

Unsure what he’s doing, he thinks back, You have telepathy?

Something equivalent to a smirk registers in Peter’s mind. It’s not ‘telepathy’, as such, Ego thinks/says. If it were, how would you still be having a conversation right now? With a start, Peter realises that he’s halfway through a reply to Drax. What’s even more confusing is that he’s conscious of that conversation - one about conception that he really wouldn’t have minded zoning out for - as much as he is aware of the one he’s having with Ego, as if his mind has split itself in two. It’s not an unpleasant experience, per se, but entering mind-fuckery territory that it’s still too early for, no matter what time of day it actually is. And it’s not just me, son, Ego continues, now projecting a proud-dad feeling that warms something in Peter’s chest to the point he’s worried it’s gonna melt and drip out of him, you share this talent, because you are a Celestial, just like me.

Ego - his father - continues his tale, after that, and Peter feels compelled to ask about his mother. Standing before him is the only other person in the Universe - outside of Earth - that knew the wonderful, brilliant human being that was Meredith Quill. He has the chance now not just to get to know his father, but also get to learn more about his mother.

His father shows him beautiful sculptures of her, looking so happy and wonderful and alive, that it nearly brings tears to Peter’s eyes. Ego talks about how much he loved her, and how long he has searched for Peter, but all Peter can wonder is: ‘If you loved her, why did you leave her?’

Ego doesn’t answer aloud, not immediately. There’s a mental suggestion of regret and loss and guilt, but no words.

Eventually, he says, ‘Let me show you the gardens - there’s something I want you to see. Once we’re there, I will answer your questions, I promise.’ The repetition speaks to the double meaning of the phrase. Curious, Peter nods, shooting Gamora an easy grin when her troubled gaze falls onto him.

With his back facing her, Peter fails to see Mantis’ worried expression.

—--

Looking up at the statue of his mother, Peter is lost for words, possibly for the first time in his life. His mother wouldn’t have asked for statues in her honour, she was far too modest, but he can’t help but think that the statue is less of a monument and more of a shrine. Ego and Mantis are alone on this planet: there are no crowds come to gather and recount stories in his mother’s honour. He can’t imagine Mantis’ having much interest in the history of a Terran woman, either. So that leaves this as a creation solely for Ego.

Peter idly wonders if Ego ever prays to the ghost of his mother’s memory, if gods do indeed pray. He doesn’t know if it would be a comfort or not, if they did.

He keeps having to remind himself that he is technically also one. It isn’t a thought he wants to spend too much time dwelling on, mainly because the implications hurt his brain.

Peter jumps straight in to questioning why his father ever left his mother. With the joy of finally meeting his father, he hadn’t realised how angry he was about Ego abandoning her. Ego’s reasoning is logical, sure, but Peter doesn’t want logic. They shout - which, to be fair, seems to be Peter’s love language by this point if his team is anything to go by.

But then Ego says, ‘Over the millions and millions of years of my existence, I’ve made many mistakes, Peter. But you’re not one of them. Please give me the chance to be the father she would want me to be.’ And, oof - that tugs on the heartstrings. Not knowing what to say, Peter remains silent, and Ego continues, ‘There’s so much that I need to teach you about this planet and the Light within. They are a part of you, Peter.’

‘What do you mean?’ Peter asks, because he’s getting to grips with the fact that he’s a Celestial, but he has no idea what that actually entails.

‘Give me your hands, son,’ Ego says, holding out his hands. Shaping Peter’s hands as if he were cupping something, he says, ‘Here. Hold them like that. Now, close your eyes and concentrate. Take your brain to the centre of this planet.’

Peter does as he says, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He imagines himself playing hide and seek with his mom, running through their house after her muffled giggles. Opening a door, he reaches out a hand to her, fingers brushing her arm-

-and lets out a startled gasp as he connects to the Light. It’s like gaining a new sense, or opening a door in his mind which was previously locked. There is no analogy that truly does it justice. The power, the clarity that it brings: it all combines to form a sense of completeness that Peter has never before experienced. He’s vaguely aware of Ego’s delighted shouts, but the buzzing beneath his skin takes up most of his attention.

Overwhelmed by the sudden influx of, well, everything, he relinquishes his hold on the Light. He can still feel it, pounding through his veins in a mimicry of blood. He half-wonders if it has replaced his blood entirely, but doesn’t have the focus to follow that particular train of thought. After a few moments and with his father’s encouragement, he summons it back, this time shaping it into the first thing he can think of: a ball.

He looks up, unsure. Ego’s expression is one of joy and pride. ‘You’re home,’ he says. Peter smiles at that, feeling the truth of the words in his bones.

And then they play catch. For as long as he can remember, he’s wanted to play catch with his dad, like the other kids did with theirs. Getting to do it, even if it’s decades late, is a gift Peter will treasure for the rest of his life, he’s sure of it.

They play for what feels like hours. Caught up in elation, Peter forgets all of the questions on his mind.

—-

Dancing with Gamora reminds him of being on Knowhere. It’s strange, being nostalgic for a time when he wasn’t sure if he was going to live to see the next cycle, but a part of him is. The power of hindsight, he supposes.

He broaches the topic of the ‘Unspoken Thing’, which turns out to be a mistake. The atmosphere of the moment shatters, and Gamora turns the conversation onto their current situation: namely, the odd feeling she’s getting. It takes Peter by surprise: since connecting to the Light, he’s felt nothing but acceptance and contentment. His surprise turns quickly to annoyance, which only mounts as their conversation continues.

She’s trying to take this away from you, a voice in his head says. It sounds like him, but older - wiser. Agreeing with what must be his conscience, he says as much to Gamora. She denies it immediately, but Peter interrupts her. ‘He’s my father. He’s blood,’ he says. Gamora makes a point about his family on Earth, which only serves to frustrate him further. Calling the planet a ‘fantasy’ nearly makes him lose it altogether. Just about holding himself in check, he exclaims, ‘This is real! I’m only half human, remember?’

Gamora answers, ‘That’s the half I’m worried about.’ He chooses to ignore the implications of that statement, instead listening to the voice again as it says, She’s just jealous. He calls her out on it, aware that he’s being a bit of a dick but beyond the point of caring. ‘You were insufferable to begin with,’ she says. Peter tries and fails not to show that that stings, just a little. Gamora doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, continuing, ‘I haven’t been able to reach Rocket. I’m gonna go outside, and I’m gonna try and get a signal.’

In response, Peter goes on a bit of a tangent about Cheers. When it becomes clear that his words aren’t conveying his meaning, he says, ‘I finally found my family. Don’t you understand that?’

He feels a pang of regret when Gamora, voice shaking, says, ‘I thought you already had.’

She leaves, and Peter doesn’t make a move to stop her. A part of him is sorry that they fought, but anger still burns through him in time with the Light.

You’ve found your family, the voice in his head repeats. And he has, hasn’t he? His father is connected to him through more than blood: they are two of a handful of Celestials in the Universe, bound by the Light which fuels them both. The others can’t hope to understand.

‘No, they can’t,’ he says aloud, shaking his head. Almost unconsciously, his hand reaches to switch on his music.

—-

The sun has set by the time Ego comes to visit him. His playlist has already looped once, and now is back onto Brandy. It was always one of his mom’s favourites: they spent many nights under the stars listening to it, pointing out constellations to each other. She’d promised to take him to see the sea, one day, when he was older. But they’d never had the opportunity: once she became really sick, they couldn’t travel very far. Peter’s seen the sea on other planets - he’s even seen ships, like the ones back on Earth - but it never hits the same. He wonders if there’s a sea on this planet or not; maybe, one day, he’ll go exploring.

Ego enters and asks him how he’s doing. Just talking to him about Earth music is so refreshing; no one in his team understands his references or why he’s so attached to his music. But his father understands - and recognises the connection it has to his mom.

Having Ego confirm his immortality wasn’t on his bingo card. He’d suspected, sure, what with being able to hold the Infinity Stone, and his basic knowledge of Celestials, but to have it confirmed is…overwhelming. His first response is to geek out, because, yeah, finding out that you can build awesome stuff with energy is definitely something to get excited over.

When Ego starts talking about ‘remaking the Universe’, he focuses up. It sounds like an unthinkable responsibility, but one Peter thinks he wants to take on. ‘How?’ he asks.
Ego forms a glowing-cone-flower-thing, and without really knowing how he’s doing it, Peter mimics him.

‘Come with me,’ Ego says, smiling proudly.

—-

Outside, unbeknownst to Peter, Mantis watches them both. She sees how easily Peter wields the Light, how similar he is to Ego in comparison to Ego’s other children, and thinks: This is all Ego ever wanted.

For the first time in her life, she decides to disobey Ego’s wishes, and goes to find Drax.

—---

Walking back into the palace’s central chamber, Ego says, ‘Now, you need to adjust the way you process life. Everything around us, including the girl, everything is temporary. We are forever. Not much, if anything, can actually kill us. Believe me, many have tried - including our fellow Celestials - but none have succeeded. Hurt like a bitch, though.’

Peter pauses mid-step. He’d meant to ask Ego about the other Celestials, but the thought had slipped his mind. ‘I thought you said you were alone?’ Peter asks tentatively.

‘Mmm?’ Ego asks. Realising that Peter’s stopped, he turns around. They’re pretty much in the room’s centre, the floating statues casting long shadows all around them. ‘Ah, yes, I did, didn’t I?’ He steps back towards Peter, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, son, for the deception, but the reputation of our - relatives, I suppose - isn’t a good one. You see, I was once like them,’ he waves his other hand vaguely, as if indicating to another Celestial in the room with them. Peter has to fight the urge to check. ‘Like all the others, I was created by Arishem the Judge, the Prime Celestial. He ignited the first sun, creating the Light. Named ‘Ego the Initiator’, it was my responsibility, along with the others of our kind, to create new planets, new stars. It was a lonely existence - much of our work took us to opposite sides of the Universe - but otherwise I was quite content. And then came the first life forms. I thought that I would want to live amongst this life.’ Ego lets go of Peter’s shoulder and continues walking, going to stand under the statue of himself and the girl. Almost dazedly, Peter follows him, trying to take everything in. He gazes up at the sculpture, marvelling in the fact that his…what, Grandfather? Is responsible for, well, everything. Before he can spend too long considering it, Ego says, ‘But all of it was just so disappointing.’ Peter turns to look at his father, confused. He takes a few steps back and down into the circular indent in the floor, his father following him. ‘I came to a profound realisation. My supposed desire to seek out other life was not so that I could walk among that life.’ Ego stops in front of Peter, barely a metre between them. ‘Peter,’ he says, voice heavy with emotion, ‘I have found meaning.’ Reaching a hand out, he touches a finger to Peter’s head, and Peter

sees

Eternity.

—--

When Peter first saw space, chucked into a cramped room when Yondu got tired of his shouting and begging, he thought he’d understood true beauty for the first time. His mother’s death ached painfully, a kind of despair that swallowed him up from the inside out, but just for a moment, upon seeing another planet for the first time, its rich crimson so unlike the Earth, the pain had lessened. Then he saw its neighbouring star - a high-mass main sequence star, early in its life and destined to burn bright and short, but he didn’t know that at the time, of course - and had to readjust his view of the Universe, which was no easy feat for an eight year old.

Looking out at his father’s view of the Universe, he realises that it had only been a poor imitation of true beauty. The eternity before him is indescribable and magnificent, and he once again has to readjust his view to truly understand it.

‘I call it the Expansion,’ Ego says, indicating the planets floating around them. ‘It is my purpose, and now it is yours as well.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Peter murmurs, almost to himself.

‘Over thousands of years I implanted thousands of extensions of myself on thousands of worlds. I need to fulfil life’s one true purpose: to grow and spread, covering all that exists, until everything is me!’ There’s a certainty to Ego’s voice that speaks to total conviction. Peter can understand why. ‘I told some of the other Celestials of this plan, before I started, the ones I thought agreed with my views on life. It turns out, my trust was misplaced. Arishem was made aware, and,’ he bites out a bitter laugh, ‘judged me guilty. My punishment was death. But no Celestial had ever been killed before. The only thing which stuck - or so they thought - was decapitation.’

Through the fog of ecstasy coating Peter’s thoughts, the word ‘decapitation’ rings a bell. ‘Decapitation?’ he asks, ‘Does that mean-’

‘I believe you’re going to ask about the station Knowhere.’ Ego’s mouth contorts into a grimace. ‘I would have preferred the Collector to choose a better name for my head. Does he still have his museum there, do you know?’

Peter nods, the implications of his father’s statement not really registering. He asks, ‘How did you survive?’, more out of reflex than curiosity, still transfixed by the planets orbiting him.

‘Whilst they were able to ‘kill’ my body, my soul, if you will, survived. I formed this planet around it as protection, as I showed you earlier. After enough time had passed, when I was but a distant speck in the memories of the others, I set about completing my purpose. But I only had one problem: weakened as I am because of the actions of the others, I alone do not have enough power for such an enterprise. But two Celestials? Well now, that just might do.’

Finally, Peter turns away from the planets and towards his father. He understands, now, the feeling that has been plaguing him for so many months. It is purpose and understanding: horror at seeing the corpse of his father’s former self and delight at finding his place in the Universe.

Peter keeps his attention on his father as Ego recounts his attempts at trying to create another Celestial. There’s a pang of sorrow, somewhere in Peter’s mind, for all the siblings he never knew, but it’s barely a whisper in comparison to the warmth he feels when Ego tells him he’s his only Celestial child. But the feeling reminds him of something else, a love for…

Seeing Peter’s suddenly downcast expression, Ego asks, ‘What is it, son?’

‘My friends,’ Peter whispers, noticing their absence in the Eternity sprawled before him.

‘You see, that’s the mortal in you, Peter.’

‘Yes,’ Peter agrees.

‘We are beyond such things.’

‘Yes,’ Peter says again. There’s something else bothering him, something else missing from the stars, but before he can figure out what it is, the door to the palace splinters open, revealing the planet’s only other inhabitants.

‘Peter!’ Gamora yells, before strands of Light reach up to restrain her and the others. A part of Peter wants to do something, because these are his friends, but the star-like planets are still stretching out ahead of him, calling to him with an irresistible song. ‘Peter!’ Gamora yells again, and this time Peter meets her eye. She gasps, although he can’t understand why.

He hears Mantis mutter, ‘He has him,’ before Ego’s glare falls on her, and she drops her head.

‘Peter,’ Ego says. Peter turns to him. ‘What were we just saying about mortals?’

Before Peter can answer, Gamora shouts, ‘He is mortal!’ Her attention turns to Peter. She almost sounds afraid, which is ridiculous - why would she be scared? ‘You are human Peter, don’t forget that! It’s one of the reasons we-’ The tendril wrapped around her extends to cover her mouth, and the mouths of the others. It doesn’t stop them shouting, but the sound is muffled.

Ego says, ‘Not for much longer.’, which causes them to silence. The planets in Peter’s vision pulse, as if excited. ‘You see, Celestial DNA doesn’t work the same way as mortals. It’s why I had such trouble when it came to creating a child to help fulfil my purpose. If the match is unsuccessful, the Celestial DNA changes to mirror that of the species of the other parent. But in Peter’s case,’ Ego steps forward to grab Peter’s shoulder proudly, ‘the opposite is true. Since connecting to the Light, his mortal, human DNA has been being overwritten. In just a short while he will be every bit the Celestial I am.’ He releases Peter’s shoulder and extends his arm, once again projecting the vision of his Expansion so all can see. ‘Where I am the Initiator, Peter is the Extinguisher: the end to all so it can be made anew! Finally, our purpose will be achieved!’ Εgo moves so he is standing beside Peter. ‘Are you ready, son?’ he asks, extending his hand for Peter to take.

Peter glances again at his friends, still struggling against the tendrils of Light. Something in the back of his mind is protesting, shouting at him to stop, but his father’s hand is right there, planets spiralling around it, and he’s being promised all he’s ever wanted, for eternity. So he reaches out a hand, missing the way his father’s eyes light up with satisfaction. Their fingertips brush, and he can feel the Expansion begin, is aware of the plants of Light on thousands of planets begin to grow and spread, before there’s a crash above them and the next thing he knows he’s on the floor several metres away, a flickering tendril of Light wrapped around his waste. It disappears, with it the planets in his vision and the feeling of ecstasy. For a moment he’s confused, but then it dawns on him what he was about to do, what he started to do, and he feels a mix of horror and guilt and self-loathing.

Before he can spend too long wallowing, there are hands on his shoulders, helping him to his feet. It takes him a moment to realise it’s Gamora, her face unreadable. In lieu of a greeting, she stares at his face for a second, before nodding and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. She says, ‘I told you something didn’t feel right,’ as they stumble towards the ship that must’ve been the cause of the crash.

‘“I told you so.” Just what I need to hear right now,’ he mutters back, trying and failing to put humour into the words.

‘Well, I came back, didn’t I?’ she retorts.

‘Because there’s an unspoken thing,’ is his immediate reply. This probably isn’t what he should be focusing on right now, but it’s better than thinking about literally anything else to do with their situation.

‘There is no unspoken thing.’

They reach the ship, and he hears Mantis say, ‘That is only an extension of his true self. He will be back soon,’ as he clambers on board. There’s a few seconds of bickering, which strangely warms something in his chest. He doesn’t know how he’d been prepared to ever lose this, to lose them.

Tendrils of Light ensnaring the ship interrupt them. ‘How do we kill a Celestial?’ Drax asks.

Peter fights the urge to say you can’t. Ego had been pretty adamant about that. But he’d mentioned that only his soul had survived his confrontation with the other Celestials, so maybe…For a second, a treacherous part of him - the part still entranced by the Expansion - considers not saying anything. But the rest of him squashes that instinct down and ignores its existence. ‘There’s a centre to him,’ Peter answers, ‘his brain, his soul, whatever it is. Some sort of protective shell.’ He climbs the ladder to the cockpit whilst stubbornly not thinking about the fact they’re going to kill his father. Ego needs to die, Peter knows, but he’s still his dad at the end of the day, and they’ve only just found him. God, why did he have to be evil? Couldn’t Peter’ve just had a stroke of luck for once?

‘It’s in the caverns, below the surface,’ Mantis says, and he steels himself.

Finding Yondu flying the ship is a surprise, although not an unwelcome one. They have a Ravager equivalent of a heart-to-heart, then set about drilling into the planet’s core. He explains to Yondu why Ego wanted him, and takes his teasing on the chin until they’re interrupted by their arrival at the planet’s centre.

Everything’s going surprisingly okay until the Sovereign show up. Peter’s getting pretty tired of bad things coming in twos, although he supposes he should be grateful that at least it’s not threes. That would push him over the edge. Wait, no, scratch that - even further over it.

He hands the controls over to Yondu and climbs down the ladder just in time to hear Rocket say, ‘Well, we got these.’

‘Is that thing strong enough to kill Ego?’ he asks.

Rocket wraps some wire around the batteries and a timer. ‘If it is, it’ll cause a chain reaction throughout his entire nervous system.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘The entire planet will explode. We’ll have to get out of here fast. I rigged a timer.’

Peter puts on his aero-rig and activates his helmet, then yells, ‘Go!’

—

Of all the things that have happened over the last…what, 48 hours? It’s searching for damned tape that nearly gets him killed.

—-

With the sparks raining down from the wrecks of the Sovereign fleet, and the various explosions going off around them, Peter thinks they look pretty freaking cool, standing together at the heart of this planet. He takes a moment to appreciate his team, his family, all of them rallied to once again save the galaxy.

Then a piece of flaming debris hits Mantis on the head - and Peter has to suppress a wince, because that looked painful - and everything goes to shit. Gamora and Nebula fall and the world starts collapsing around them, and Peter’s got maybe six minutes to ensure the survival of his family.

‘Peter!’ his father yells. Ego’s face is made out of rock and Light and looks pretty damn intimidating. Tendrils start lashing at him, Rocket and Yondu, and Peter has to keep up a near-constant barrage with his blasters just to keep himself from being flattened. He’d use the Light, but he doesn’t think balls and flower-things are going to do much against the looking-more-like-a-big-”G” God in front of him. ‘Come now, Peter,’ rock-Ego continues, ‘I know this isn’t what you want. What kind of father would I be to let you make this choice? Soon, Peter, we will be all there is. So stop pissing me off!’ Peter makes it a few more seconds, before a tentacle smacks him to the ground, shattering his helmet.

He makes it to his knees just in time to watch Rocket and Yondu become entrapped by the planet. Somehow, he knows the same has happened to the rest of his family: he can feel the way that sand has risen to swallow Drax, and that the tunnel has closed around Groot. The picture of Gamora and Nebula, suffocating on tendrils of Light, rocks bound around their wrists, sears into his brain. He can feel all of it, but he can’t do anything to stop it, and that freezes him in place.

‘I don’t want to do this alone,’ Ego says, seconds before a tendril literally stabs Peter in the back. His mind nearly blanks because of the pain, and he barely hears it as Ego continues. ‘You cannot deny the purpose the Universe has bestowed upon you!’ There’s a beat, maybe two, where Peter isn’t aware of anything other than the pain, before the Expansion begins again and he is suddenly aware of everything. ‘It doesn't need to be like this, Peter. Why are you destroying our chance? Stop pretending you aren’t what you are. One in billions. Trillions. Even more! What greater meaning can life possibly have to offer?’

One moment, Peter is simultaneously on thousands of planets and also trapped as a glorified battery, and the next he’s standing in some woods, leaves crunching beneath his boots. Between the trees, sunlight flickers down. Forests on most planets look pretty similar, but something about this one feels familiar. He realises suddenly, bizarrely, that it’s the little wooden cones littered around, the one Peter’s never been able to remember the name of and has never needed to because he’s not seen them since he was eight years old. Somehow, he’s on Earth - or, part of him is, anyway. He can’t feel any warmth from the sun, nor the breeze which must be blowing, judging by the way branches sway from side-to-side.

He writes it off as just another freaky Celestial ability, and focuses back onto his priority: stopping Ego. Before he can figure out exactly how he’s supposed to do that, a noise catches his attention. He turns towards it and sees the backs of two people, moving quickly through the trees. As if compelled, he follows them. He can’t make out what they’re saying, as he gets closer, but he can hear laughter, coming from the shorter of the two. It’s a light and joyful sound, and so, so familiar, even after all these years.

‘Mom?’ he whispers. As if hearing him, the figure turns around, revealing the kind face of his mother, younger and healthier than she’d been when she died. She looks towards him for a moment, and Peter hopes beyond hope that she’ll say something, but instead her gaze pierces through him as if he isn’t there. Something twists in his gut at that, a fresh bit of grief. The feeling is joined by a spark of sour anger when she steps forward, revealing the second figure to be Ego, also looking younger, although artificially so. Ego does meet his gaze with a knowing smirk, before the pair continue through the trees, Peter jogging along behind them.

‘This way, my river lily!’ he hears Ego shout. ‘Come on!’

‘Where are you taking me?’ his mother asks, and if seeing her was like a punch to the gut, then hearing her voice is like someone ripping out his heart. It takes all of his willpower not to cry.

They round a corner and Peter follows, before nearly tripping over from how quickly he stops. Ego and his mom have their backs to him, standing around something on the floor. Peter steps around them to look, and really wishes he hadn’t: poking, almost innocently, out of the soil is a flower, unlike any other on Earth. It pulses softly with Light, in a mimicry of a heartbeat: the source of the Expansion.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ his mother gasps, and Peter suppresses a flinch. He’d had pretty much the same reaction, after all.

‘I was afraid it wouldn’t take to the soil, but it rooted quickly. And soon, it’ll be everywhere. All across the Universe.’ It’s the same thing Ego promised Peter, but, of course, Meredith doesn't understand the implications. How could she, when the tale Ego spins is a beautifully crafted lie? The flower is just like Ego - a seemingly perfect thing hiding a dark purpose. He hates Ego for making his lies too beautiful not to fall for.

Peter hates that he fell for them, too.

He turns away, unable to keep watching, and comes face-to-face with Ego, the one he knows. His father is smiling, and Peter’d call it soft if he didn’t know better. But he does know better, so he swings a punch. His fist meets empty air, and he hears a sigh from behind him.

‘So quick to violence, Peter,’ Ego chides, and Peter spins around. His mother and younger-Ego have vanished, only leaving behind the seed. ‘I thought the knowledge that your mother appreciated my plans would be enough to change your mind.’

‘You tricked her, you bastard,’ Peter shouts, only the knowledge of its pointlessness stopping him from throwing another punch.

Ego shrugs. ‘Just because she didn’t know the outcome of the Expansion, it doesn’t mean I tricked her. I loved her, Peter, truly.’

Peter interrupts, ‘She was-she was a tool!’ Just saying it makes Peter feel sick. ‘You used her to get what you wanted, to get me! That isn’t love!’

‘Putting that tumour in her head was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Peter, in millions of years,’ Ego yells. ‘How isn’t that love?’

Peter is silent for one, two, three moments before he asks, ‘What?’

Something close to horror dawns on Ego’s face. ‘I know that sounds bad-’ he begins, but is interrupted by a stream of blaster fire. Peter’s not sure whether he’s had his blasters this whole time, but he makes up for earlier inaction by unloading shot after shot into Ego.

He manages about ten seconds of cathartic bliss before the memory or illusion or whatever it is shatters. Peter’s consciousness is shoved both back into him and also into the Expansion. Barely a second has passed in reality, he knows, but the pain aches as if it is an eternity old.

To the right of him, Yondu shouts, breaking Peter out of his stupor. ‘I don’t use my head to fly the arrow, boy!’ He’s being crushed by rocks, the words expelled out of him with his last breaths. ‘I use my heart-’ Stones fill his mouth and cut him off before he can finish.

His heart. It’s what he has that Ego doesn’t, a metaphor which would go straight over Drax’s head, but one which is ultimately true. Peter’s got his family; Ego’s already taken away one member, and Peter won’t let him take any more.

It is with that conviction that Peter turns his attention back to the Light. Ego said he needed two Celestials to fuel his Expansion, so Peter figures he must have some power of his own. He doesn’t know how much of his mortality remains, and is sure that what he’s about to attempt will likely destroy the rest, but it’s a sacrifice he’ll happily make if it protects his family. Doing as Yondu said and following his heart, he allows instinct to guide him.

Where before wielding the Light had felt like asking Ego for permission, this time he grabs a hold of it. Panic flits across Ego’s face - and, oh, isn’t that satisfying. ‘You shouldn’t have killed my mom!’ he shouts, and wrenches himself free of the Light.

Peter is only semi-aware during the ensuing fight. It’s all a blur of Light and adrenaline; he feels a bit like Superman, and he takes a moment to think of his younger self, who would be positively drooling over the concepts of flying and beating up bad guys. ‘Beating up bad guys’ hurts a hell of a lot more than the movies showed, but flying is cool enough to make up for it.

So is making a giant Pac Man. If he ever has kids, they will hear this story every single day.

As he crash-lands back onto the floor, he’s vaguely aware of everyone making it to the ship. If the air hadn't been knocked out of his lungs, he’d breathe a sigh of relief. As it is, some of the tension bleeds from his body.

Ego’s on him again before he has a chance to relax any further. The power behind his punches is fading in time with the planet’s collapse, but Peter, unused to wielding this much power, is tiring along with him.

Peter’s lost track of time, but he figures the bomb is close to going off when Ego shouts, ‘No, we need to stop it!’ He struggles against Peter’s grip, muttering, ‘No. Stop.’ He grabs Peter by the collar, shaking him. They’re both on their knees, and it makes Peter think back to his earlier question: do gods pray? He thinks, if they did, this would be as close as Ego would ever get. ‘Stop. Listen to me! You are a god. If you kill me, you’ll be alone. They will die, but you will remain.’

Peter doesn’t even need to consider. ‘Better than an eternity with you.’

‘No!’ Ego shouts, seconds before he crumbles to dust in Peter’s hands. And Peter - Peter knows he should feel something, but he’s too tired to be anything other than numb. He wants nothing more than to curl in a ball and sleep for at least a month straight, but the Universe, it seems, isn’t yet out of ‘fuck you’s for him. It decides to deliver the message in the form of the planet going up in flames around him, which spurs him into action.

Flying is even easier, now, without Ego resisting him. He makes it up and into space in time to watch the planet crumble, collapsing in on itself like only the largest of dying stars. Peter doesn’t know how long he spends, watching it with a detached sort of awe; the cold of the vacuum doesn’t register, fended off by the Light, which has cocooned itself around him in a facsimile of a spacesuit. By the time the Quadrant picks him up, the planet has vanished, condemned to a cosmic hell, maybe, or simply written out of existence by beings - well, beings like Peter.

The relief he feels when his family greets him in the hanger is almost indescribable. It pierces through the cloud of numbness, easing the burden of worry from his shoulders.

Yondu is the first to approach him. He raises an arm, and Peter nearly flinches reflexively, before Yondu pulls him in for a hug. Quietly, so quietly that Peter almost misses the words, Yondu says, ‘He may have been your father, boy, but he wasn’t your daddy.’

Suddenly blinking back tears, Peter hugs him back. Looking at the people gathered around him, all wearing various expressions of relief and hope, Peter thinks he couldn’t be more grateful for his family.

—--

A week later, after they’ve patched themselves up at the closest space port - they’ve collectively vetoed returning to Knowhere, for the moment - the decision once again falls upon Peter as to their next destination. Sat in the pilot’s chair, he thinks for a moment, then smirks. ‘Rocket, how much were those batteries going for?’

From behind him, Rocket says, ‘I like where this is going, Quill.’

Peter can feel Gamora’s glare on him. ‘Peter,’ she warns.

‘I was joking!’ If he wasn’t flying, he’d raise his hands in mock-surrender. ‘Besides, it’s not like the Sovereign-’ He means to say, will let us anywhere close, but is interrupted by the ship coming to a screeching halt. The sudden deceleration throws them all forward, and Peter’s thankful he insisted on Groot wearing the seatbelt Peter made for him out of the Light. It’s crude, but for the first thing that Peter’s made from the Light - Pac Man not included - it’s not bad.

‘This is why I should be flying!’ Rocket groans.

‘This wasn’t my flying!’ Peter argues, but Groot cuts him off.

‘I am Groot,’ Groot says, pointing outside. Peter follows his finger. His jaw nearly dislocates from the speed at which it drops.

‘He says, “There’s something big out-”,’ Rocket starts, stopping just as suddenly when his gaze follows Peter’s. Outside the ship, looming impossibly large, is a crimson figure. Only the top half of their body is visible: red metal intertwines with veins made of magma, creating a vaguely humanoid shape complete with a helmet-like head, six glowing eyes staring down at them. Chunks of the same metal hang over the ship, and Peter realises with a start that they are suspended within the thing’s hand. A feeling - the feeling - starts to scuttle its way up and down his spine, raising goosebumps along his arms.

‘What is that?’ Gamora asks, the words - expelled in a single breath - matching what they are all thinking.

As if it hears her, the being answers, ‘I am Arishem the Judge, the Prime Celestial. I have come for the Extinguisher.’ The sound materialises in the ship, as if it has been laying dormant, waiting for a command.

Peter vaguely remembers hearing Ego call him by that name during his speech. He’d rolled with it at the time because of, y’know, the freaky trance thing, but hearing it said by Arishem makes his skin crawl. It’s not exactly a title he wants to live up to.

Noticing the others’ eyes on him, Peter sighs. ‘Shit,’ he says, meaning for it to be under his breath but ultimately failing.

‘You, uh, you know this guy, Quill?’ Rocket asks.

‘Know is a strong word,’ Peter answers over his shoulder. He turns back to face Arishem. The Celestial’s face is utterly blank of, well, anything, and it’s kind of unnerving. Is this what all of his species are like? It’s going to make family get-togethers a real downer. Finally plucking up the courage, he asks, ‘Hi, Grandpa, what can I do for you?’

Gamora groans behind him.