He wasn't sure what had brought on this idea.
Maybe he was sick of the Ravagers kicking him around everyday.
Maybe it was a fleeting dream that his mother was waiting for him.
Maybe he simply couldn't take it anymore.
No matter what, he was gone, and if he was caught....
He couldn't be.
Peter Quill, typically referred to as 'Quill' or 'Boy' on the Elector, was ten years old. He thinks. When you're out in space with no calendar to mark your birthday, time tends to slip out from under you, causing your feet to stumble and land face-first into the ground as they laugh.
Peter sat back in the pilots chair, giving himself time to admire the whirling galaxies and spinning planets as he made his way through the endless universe, tapping his finger in time to the beat of music coming from his mothers- no- his Walkman.
Even after three years- roughly, he thinks- it was hard to come to terms with her death.
He couldn't talk to the Ravagers about it, or he could, but they'd laugh and taunt him. Again. And their captain would hit the back of his head and snarl at him to grow up, his arrow glowing and ready for a moment's whistle.
Peter made this decision months ago, he was just lucky that the crew had had a successful bounty and most, if not all, were now stinking drunk and passed out.
Which is why now he was flying a stolen M-ship to get back to Earth.
Maybe she was there.
~~●~~
"What do you mean he's gone?"
His men shuffled their feet anxiously.
"Well, we tried calling for him. Checked his bunk."
"Looked for heat signatures in any unusual spots," Kraglin, one of the few on this ship that wasn't entirely afraid of his captain, said. He had spent enough time to know a scare tactic from an actual threat. "Nothin' in the vents or by the boiler."
Yondu sighed as he put his head in his hand. "The boy is supposed to be here," he said slowly. "And if he isn't on the ship, then where is he?" That last part came out in a growl.
"And what worse news were you talking about?"
The men turned to look at Kraglin, who glared at them momentarily before answering. Never a good idea to argue while being demanded a clear question while the captain was in a state.
"One of the M-ships were missin'."
Yondu stared. "What." It was not a question.
Kraglin shrugged. "One if them's missin'. Maybe the boy took it."
Yondu continued to stare at nothing. He had barely begun to train the kid a month ago! And now he's stealing ships? Just how out of his goddamn mind does he have to be to steal from a ship full of Ravagers?!
"Who was supposed to be watching him?"
A long pause.
"How did a tiny Terran kid steal from us?! Who was drinkin' last night?"
Kraglin had the audacity to look a little sheepish. "Well, we all was..."
"And no one stayed sober? That kid coulda killed us all!" It was an over exaggeration, but Yondu was trying to get his point across.
"Taserface was supposed to stay dry," one of the crewmates said, barely above a mutter, but heard clearly.
"He's never sober," Kraglin said dryly.
"Any idea where's he gone?"
Another long pause before Tullk spoke up.
"We thinks he's gone back to Terra."
~~●~~
Ten minutes later, Yondu was in his own M-ship, trying to make it to Terra before the boy did. Thank Ogard that the kid took an older model, and one that still had a tracker.
No one had offered to go with him, nor did he ask for assistance.
If that jackass of a 'father' Ego found out where his newest offspring is...
He gunned the engine, watching the faint blimp of where Quill is get farther and farther away.
~~●~~
He did his best, Peter told himself as his heart raced. He tried to be a good Ravager for some three years, and they never accepted him. He's making it easier by simply leaving and not throwing a tantrum about it.
(He's ignoring the fact that he took one of their ships, the blue and orange one he finds his eyes on. He knew it was older, but sturdy nonetheless, and it's far too expensive to purchase one with the measly scavengings on small missions. So yes, stealing from the Ravagers was necessary.)
And he didn't too bad of parking it either, he thought. Sure, he crushed a few trees and a branch came through the window, but the forest he had chosen to land in seemed suitable enough to hide in. Besides, it was difficult to fly in the rain.
Double-checking the map the Ravagers had been kind enough to leave in the database when they first 'picked him up', he found that he had landed in the patch of trees closest to a graveyard.
He had hit Missouri on the spot.
He would think Yondu would be impressed, but he's never really impressed at anything or anyone.
His mother would be proud, and that was enough.
He eyed the graveyard warily. His grandmother was somewhere in there. His mom had taken him to see her shiny white gravestone on Mother's Day as she told him stories on what she was like. He doesn't think his grandfather went, but he was young at the time.
He remembers her pointing out an empty space beside the gravestone saying and one day, grandpa will go there, but not for a long, long time.
He misses her. Terribly.
"I could go in there," Peter thought. It wouldn't hurt to see his grandmother, even though he has no concrete memories of her.
And maybe his mother was at her grave, crying about her son that she had lost, and he can walk up and hug her and she would still cry, now tears of joy, and he would cry because he is not alone anymore and they would go home and Peter could pretend that the ship and the Ravagers and the shouting and the drinking and the cruel words and the arrow were all a bad dream as he and his mother danced to their music all night long.
That sold it for him. He jumped the fence, and began weaving through the trees and the graves. He barely needed to think about his direction. His feet led the way through the fog and rain.
~~●~~
Yondu was, in complete honesty, extremely annoyed and more than a little confused as to why he found his stolen M-ship landed in a clump of trees with a branch piercing the window.
All-in-all though, after a thorough inspection, it wasn't a half-decent land.
Like he was going to tell the boy that. That kinda praise gets in their head and then they stop listening to you. He already doesn't listen close enough as it is.
He sighed in annoyance as he realized that the boy was not anywhere on the ship, but instead little footprints in the mud, steadily filling up with water, led the way out and toward a break in the trees. With no other choice, he followed.
"Terra," he thought in disgust as he saw the sprawled, overwhelming stretch of land that marked the dead. If other species did this, they'd run out of room quickly.
He felt tempted to turn around, the leave the boy to dig his own grave or whatever he was doing in a graveyard in the first place, but he had taken it upon his shoulders that Ego would never get his hands on another one of his children, and he failed the boy's hundreds of other brothers and sisters that he doesn't even know about, much less that he would ever tell him…
Yondu grit his teeth and stepped over the fence. At least it doesn't look busy.
~~●~~
He wasn't sure how long he was looking for, maybe an hour or so, when he finally spotted the boy, crouched down in front of twin gravestones, something small placed in front of one of them.
He stomped over to the boy, whose ground was being eaten away by the rain, who continued to sit in the rain with no complaint, who didn't even notice his presence even when he was directly behind him.
"Time to go boy." It was supposed to sound dangerous, threatening, menacing, but all it really sounded like was tired and impatient.
Peter flinched before shaking his head mutely. He paid Yondu no other attention than the stone in front of him.
Boy causes more trouble than he's worth.
He was tempted to leave the drenched boy. He really contemplated it, but responsibility was responsibility and he was getting this kid away from this planet before his deranged father blew up this rock and killed them both.
He moved until he was standing directly over him, and even then Peter didn't pay any mind to him.
Had he said anything, even breathed too loudly, he would've missed Peter's next words.
"I thought… maybe…" his next few words came out in a mumble. The only one Yondu caught was 'dream'.
"A dream?" Yondu scoffed. "Dreamin' 'bout magic there, boy?"
Peter shook his head again, resting his chin on his knees.
"I thought maybe she would've been alive."
That made Yondu freeze, and he's proud to say not many things do that to him. Is this how a parent-offspring relationship is supposed to work?
Peter curled up more as the rain came down harder around them.
"I thought maybe she was waiting for me." His small hand reached out and lightly brushed the gravestone in front of him, and it was then did Yondu actually read what it said.
Meredith Quill.
And in front, Peter's sound box he calls a Walkman.
The boy's shoulders shook in uneven patterns, and it took him a moment to realize that he was crying.
Nope. No. This is not what Yondu had signed up for. It was his responsibility to keep the boy alive, not deal with the sentimental parts the kid is prone to.
Although it had been a few years since he last saw the kid shed a tear.
He doesn't know why, won't explain it to anyone because even he would never admit to it, but he found himself crouching next to the Terran, holding a part of his jacket over his head as the kid leaned into him, crying, but quietly so.
He lost track of time. Barely noticed the rain. Offered no words of encouragement but was there nonetheless. And besides, words weren't his specialty. Being a Ravager was.
Peter had fallen asleep, leaning against his side, hair slowly drying, when Yondu decided it was time to go. He picked up the kid, and after a moment's thought, took off his jacket and set it over the boy. He walked a few paces away before whistling.
His arrow, always on point, followed his exact orders and gently picked up the Walkman. Yondu caught it as deftly as he catches his own arrow. He tucked it into his jacket pocket as he made his way back to the trees.
He set the boy down, still covered in his coat before making preparations to tow the slightly damaged M-ship behind them. When he returned to the pilot's seat, he found that Peter had completely curled into the jacket and his hand had found the pocket with his music. They left orbit easily and drifted for a bit in the general direction of the Elector.
Yondu watched the boy sleep for a while and made a few more promises to himself:
That Walkman of his will ease away his nightmares and never leave his side.
The Yaka arrow, currently slowly circling above Peter's head, will protect him for as long as it can.
The jacket will cover him from what it can, even though it won't be from everything, and certainly not forever.
Ego will never again interfere with their lives.
They won't return to Terra.
Perhaps the ship will one day become Peter's although stealing won't help that thought.
And the promiser will do his best to make sure these things come true.
Yondu checked their navigation one last time before leaning back to get his own rest, confident in one thing:
They were going home.