Well. It's been quite awhile since I've updated this story, and many of you are probably wondering why I bothered finishing it at all. My life has many conflicts, and I find that a great deal of my dissonance arises from lack of closure on many of my greatest accomplishments. This is my closure. This is the end of the story that has spanned four years, a story that I love and have read many times. I hope that this chapter brings you closure as well. Many of you will probably ask if this was the ending I had intended for the story when I first started writing it. My answer is yes. This was the way it was always going to end. Additionally, this is the most polished chapter that I've posted by far, with large sections that I wrote previously being tossed and rewritten, and nearly every paragraph being proofread for accuracy.

I leave you with my magnum opus. If it has inspired you, then write and share your ideas on paper. If it hasn't, then make something that you hope would inspire others. Goodbye, and as always, Enjoy!

Peter lay on his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. He was on his back, so the tears didn't drip down the sides of his face, and instead welled up inside of his eyes so that his vision was blurred.

"Peter, open up! I need to talk to you," Gamora yelled. He made no movement, and instead acted as if he wasn't there at all.

"I know you're in there Peter," she called out again. Peter heard a small shuffle and some conversation from outside the door. Wheels rolled across the ship until they faintly died out of earshot, and another pattering sound approached.

"Quill, I've finished the machine and need you to connect it into the comms system," Rocket said. Peter sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes. There was an emotional connection that he felt, an obligation even, that made him determined to finish the mission. He decided to speak to them again, after reasoning to himself that giving them the silent treatment was not a viable option for conflict resolution.

"Alright, give me a minute! Can't I get a moment alone around here?"

"That's what I said to Gamora after you came barging into my room!" Rocket said. He then heard Gamora and Rocket leave him alone and venture to some other part of the ship.

Internally, Peter was devastated. He got up and wiped his eyes until the tears washed away with the great sadness from the papers that lay beside him. He saw their menacing shape and simplicity, a bunch of records printed on a thin sheet of paper. If they were ripped to shreds or burned in a fire, the information they contained would still be true. If Peter had gone back and murdered the doctors that Rocket had spoken with, if he had been there, if he had done anything differently, the information would still be true.

Some universal truth unveiled itself in the paperwork, and he hated acknowledging its existence. He folded the paper back up and roughly placed it into the folder, which he threw at a bin in his closet with a satisfying thud.

When the door opened, Peter barely looked as if he had just been enlightened by the truth. His eyes had returned to their normal shape and color, and his clothing showed no sign of distress. The mirror in his room had assisted in his quest to appear normal, shown him all of the flaws in his outfit and notified him of when he looked decent.

Gamora stood with her hand resting on Rocket's copilot chair, while he crouched down and plugged a variety of bundled wires into the control panel. The wire led out of the room and snaked down the hall through a few corridors that were out of site.

"Alright, what do you need me to do?" Gamora looked back at him with indifference, while Rocket took a short peek at Peter between soldering connections.

"Quill, I need you to activate the auxiliary connection on the Q-14 panel after temporarily disabling the main switch. We want to feed them together when the main switch goes back online so we can broadcast it out as a transceiver signal." Peter slowly nodded his head and walked towards a series of panels. Gamora took this as her que to exit and promptly left the room.

"Alright, disable it." Rocket lie underneath the control panels at this point, holding two wires together. Peter saw the lower half of his body sticking out.

"Quill, I said disable it!" Rocket watched as the wires turned red in front of him from the building heat.

"Uhhhhhhhhh," Peter said, "Which one is the Q-14 again?"

"Quill, you idiot! It's the one with the big red button! How have you not figured this out!" Peter's eyes darted around for a panel with a large red button, but to him it seemed as if all of the panels had an assortment of red buttons that were in various shapes and sizes. Worried about Rocket's increasing tone, he made the executive decision to press as many red buttons as he could. Frantically, one after the other, the ship's computer began spitting out errors and lurching back and forth.

"Finally!" Rocket shouted from underneath. He jumped back up with some singed fur, and glanced at the computer. He frowned.

"What," Rocket said, "did you press!?" Peter offered a shrug as Rocket went around pressing a series of buttons that calmed the system.

"It's my ship, I know more about this thing than you do!" Peter yelled back.

"Really asshole, then where is the damn Q-14?"

"This ship doesn't have a Q14! It has an X-34!"

"It's practically the same thing!" Rocket shouted back in defiance as he pressed the last few buttons back into their normal state.

"The letter Q and the letter X are completely different." Peter said.

"Alright, then if we leave your convoluted number fetish aside, where is the goddamn X-34!?"

"I don't know!" Peter said, as he let out a small chuckle. Rocket shook his head and let out a sigh of relief.

"You're an idiot, you know that? Grade A idiot." Rocket said.

"I know." Peter walked over to his chair and took a seat. The window in front of him was illuminated by Hydroxa shipping port in front of them. Small drones still buzzed around the port welding bits of metal and wire back together. Large cargo vessels were landing and unloading supplies once more, and for once it seemed like everything was going to be alright.

But it was moments like this that Peter knew he would always have the stabbing thought of Rocket's condition. Whenever everything seemed perfect or at peace, he had the haunting memory of what was going to happen, and it would stick around forever. There would be no more peace in his life. The small grin slowly fell off his face as Rocket took a seat in the copilot chair next to him.

"The machine works Quill."

"I'm glad to hear it," Peter replied. Rocket fiddled with the buttons on the dash for a moment longer before slipping back into his seat. Peter noticed the jumpsuit that Rocket was wearing, one of the old orange and black ones that he brought along. It was tattered in a few places, but the core of the suit fit the racoon snugly.

"Jason says we're good to go tomorrow morning, no questions asked."

"It makes sense that he wants us to go so soon. I'd be scared too if there was a madman flying around up there," Peter said, "well, other than you at least."

The ship was quiet for the rest of the night. After the comms system had been setup properly, Rocket retreated back to his den to make up for lost time with Groot, and Peter sat on his bed staring at the wall. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Peter, I need to talk to you," Gamora said from the other side. Peter got up from his bed and opened the door to find her standing in front of him. She started into his room without asking, typical of their encounters, and seated herself on one of the dusty chairs in the corner. Peter returned back to his bed as she started speaking.

"Jason notified us that we are to be leaving tomorrow morning to get The Ranger."

"Rocket informed me earlier today," Peter replied.

"I just want you to know that this is not going to be an easy task. I've only ever hunted down one other Hydrax officer, and it led to the death of 21 soldiers." Peter stared at her for a moment.

"Yeah, but Drax has about the strength of 21 soldiers. We'll make do, even if we lose some limbs."

"Peter, you should know that Drax and I spent the last few days doing intelligence work on their outposts. They are incredibly dangerous. Land mines, orbital cannons, machete turrets. That kind of thing." Gamora said.

"Machete turrets? That sounds awesome!" Peter said.

"You aren't taking this seriously."

"I am, trust me, but honestly, machete turrets?"

"Peter"

"I have everything under control. When have we ever died on a mission?" Gamora simply looked at him with a doubtful expression.

"When have we ever died on a mission?" He asked again. Gamora let out a sigh.

"Never."

"See, less worrying, more shooting the bad guys. Always works for me." Peter countered. Gamora stood up and walked over to the door. Her green figure was exacerbated by the sleek dark outfit she was wearing. Peter remembered that once a while ago he had felt an attraction to her, but that it had faded since then. An air of camaraderie still existed between them, as she stood in the doorway with a casual expression on her face.

"I have a bad feeling about this Peter."

"I have a bad feeling about everything. Honestly a good feeling at this point would scare the hell out of me." he responded. The door closed between them and she wandered off down the hallway. Outside, he could hear Drax talking to someone, but Gamora had dimmed the lights to save power so there wasn't much to be seen.

In response, he flopped on his bed and studied the ceiling. An intricate design of metal and paint combined together to create a mechanical aesthetic. There wasn't thought or effort put into its construction, as if the designer simply knew that these conduits had to be there and was fine with them exposed.

His hands gripped the soft cotton sheets on his bed, and an image of Rocket appeared in his head. The soft, warm, but aggressive raccoon that he felt an attraction towards. One that he wasn't sure if he should embrace or not.

Peter turned on his side and wondered if Rocket had thoughts like his. If somewhere in his decaying brain, there were thoughts of spending time together with him, and if it seemed to be such a difficult situation to navigate through. He thought about his soft fur, and how it was characteristic of his internal feelings, and how wrong it seemed that he put on a rough exterior. Peter figured that Rocket was mean simply because he thought he would never have friends or love, and that he was a loner.

Eventually Peter drifted away, feeling that everything was alright and that everything could be figured out. Then he remembered.

He remembered the disease. The death. The imminent danger it posed. It reminded him of so many things.

"Peter"

He thought of all of the different things that he wanted to say, everything that he wanted to say to his mother, everything that he regretted not saying.

"Peter"

Peter's distress increased. He felt tense, he felt unease. He felt something.

"Peter!" Rocket said a bit louder. As his eyes fluttered open, the raccoon stood in front of him with what Peter thought might be a worried look on his face. But the look disappeared and was replaced by annoyance.

Peter say upright and rubbed his eyes.

"How did you get in here," Peter asked.

"Well, it's what I'm good at," Rocket replied while pointing back at the sparking control on the outside of the door. Peter motioned for him to sit down on the bed next to him.

"Quill, I . . ." Rocket said. Peter looked down at Rocket. He sat staring at his paws in his lap. Then he looked up at Peter, and the two of them made direct eye contact.

"Quill, I just . . . I don't know. I'm scared." Peter reached his arm around him and pulled him closer. Peter wasn't sure what else to do at this point. There was so many things that he wanted to say, that all he could come up with was "Alright, I'm too." It seemed insufficient. Rocket and Peter sat there for a few minutes before Rocket finally tensed up.

"I'm sorry Quill, I don't know what got into me."

"No, it's fine. Trust me."

"I'm going back to my room. I'm sorry for bothering you." The racoon immediately stood up paced out quickly. Peter felt a stab of pain, as if Rocket had stabbed him with a red hot dagger. Before Peter could tell him to come back, he had already made it back into his own room. The door to Peter's room was left open with the mechanism in pieces on the floor outside. A lot of thought was put into entering, but the exit was so much simpler.

Peter didn't pursue Rocket. The last time that he had tried comforting him in the middle of the night led to his face being used as an experimental cutting board, so he fell back on to his bed in disappointment. For the rest of the night, he could only lay there and try to get the thought out of his head that he had angered Rocket in some way by what he said. Or, Peter wondered, it was the lack of things that he said.

When the alarm rang, his salvation from needed sleep was over and he threw on the proper clothing after a brief shower. Peter grabbed a quick breakfast bar from the kitchen, which was mostly deserted, and headed to the cockpit.

He went through a series of preflight checklists, that mostly consisted of having enough fuel and missiles to destroy anything in sight, as well as ensuring that the engines were working properly after their stressful encounters.

The ship had seen many missions where the engines were utilized far beyond their maximum capacity. Once, the engines were used to burn a hole in an enemy ship after they had docked to his craft. The last thing Peter saw of the ship was the controller windows melting under the warm plasma ejected by the thrusters, and the horrified look of the captain behind the window as he desperately tried to undock from the Milano. It was too late though, as the heat spread to a solar panel which promptly overloaded a battery, and the cruiser exploded into a collection of scrap materials.

"Peter, we're meeting on the flight deck," Drax said over the radio. Peter acknowledged his message and joined them below on the ship's deck. He left the ship in idle just in case they had to perform an emergency maneuver. On the deck, Jason sat on a wheelchair with the rest of the guardians in a half circle around him. Rocket was explaining something to Groot.

"You have to go, you won't be of any use to us and it would just endanger you."

"I am Groot."

"When you grow a bit older, but for know you need to stay with Jason. We'll be back for you in just a little bit. You're safe. I promise." Rocket looked up at Jason as the last few words rolled off his tongue. Groot went over to Jason and climbed on to his lap.

"Well, guardians, I wish you the best of luck on your voyage. If you can defeat The Ranger, you will save countless lives in this solar system alone. You might be the most competent team that has ever been assembled to complete such a task, and-" Jason stopped when he noticed that Rocket began to chuckle. Gamora simply smiled and Drax looked around with some confusion.

"What, is something wrong?" Jason asked.

"Nothing, keep going," Gamora responded.

"Alright, well, if you don't make it back, which I doubt, you will be remembered as heroes. So may the best of luck be with you." Jason nodded his head and everyone thanked him. He wheeled away, only for some assistant military replacement for Jamoral to seize control of the wheelchair.

The crew all stepped back aboard and took a look around. Rocket cracked a joke that they were indeed the most competent team ever before positioning himself at the device he had constructed for the mission

Anyone aboard the Milano would have agreed with the presumption that flying the Milano was predominantly difficult, likely with the exception of Rocket, who had been implanted with the skills necessary to pilot from a young age. Of course, that did not actually mean that piloting the ship was by any means simple. Peter seated himself at the controls without his co-pilot in sight. After settling into the chair and buckling himself into a security strap, his eyes glanced over the mountains of buttons that were spread out before him. As expertly as he knew, he engaged the central power system, activating a set illuminated buttons and turning on an electric ignition motor in each engine. Control readings began to readout on displays, notifying any pilot of the condition of weapon, ventilation, flight, and even air humidity statuses. Peter's eyes made a cursory glance over all systems, noting that everything seemed to be in place. The cockpit window let the morning light flood into the ship as the protection visor slid out of place.

The ship sat on the pad in its glory, primed for takeoff. Peter's hand reached out for the intercom that spoke to all of the rooms aboard the ship.

"Alright guys, we're just departing now, so just make sure to buckle in. Things might get a bit hectic," Peter said as he requested access into the Hydroxa Flight System. In response, a green light flashed on the display panel, and he reached for the engine ignition switch. For a short moment, Peter hesitated to throw the engines on. After all, it could be the last time he ever performed such a dull activity. Casting his doubts aside, he flipped the switch, and the lights on the dash turned from red to yellow. Suddenly, a massive rumble overtook the craft, and a noise similar to that of a yawning jet airplane roared into existence. It took only a few seconds more for the light to depart from yellow and blast green.

Peter smiled as he pulled on the controls of the craft, guiding off the ground, and into the sky. The navigation system went haywire as hundreds of foreign spacecraft filled the city going to their everyday business. Eventually, the Milano lurched itself above civilian flying altitude, and he began his way into orbit around the planet. While the ship was performing essential and partly automated orbiting procedures, Peter listened around the ship. But it was incredibly quiet. From his seat, Peter only heard the sounds of the engines roaring and the computer system talking to itself.

He closed his eyes, and a familiar image popped into his head. It appeared to him that the world had stopped moving, and was stuck in time. The image became more powerful in Peter's mind. He frightfully looked at its alluring taste, but hid in fear. Peter knew that no matter what he felt on the inside, he could never deny his affluent affection for his raccoon friend.

A tear ran down Peter's eye as the ship launched itself into a completely circularized orbit. There was some amount of beauty to the disaster that was going on. Here he was, sitting alone at the cockpit of a craft before the eve of battle. Every breath that Peter inhaled was thick and cool, as it curled around his lungs and back out of his body. His heart beat with spectacular rhythm, prepared to beat right out of his chest at a moment's notice. But then, Peter regained control. His eyes opened, and a dry arm ran over his wetted face, leaving a smear of water to evaporate on his cheek. Hesitantly, his hands gripped the controls of the Milano, and the engine roared at him.

The flight to the remote planet was not particularly long, as the quadrant wasn't massive to begin with. The dark illumination of space washed over Peter's eyes, and he wondered how such a menace could live among this great beauty of the universe. The Ranger, the unknown enemy, was an enemy responsible for everything that had happened.

Suddenly, the planet entered the view of the Milano. It was dark, yet not so dark as to be invisible from view. It radiated a faint blue aura, and seemed devoid of any signs of life. The radio onboard the ship crackled into life with a loud scream.

"Peter Quill, this is the captain of the Hydrom Battle Cruiser, reporting for immediate support of Operation Robin Hood." The radio then died out momentarily as Peter put on the headset that paired him with the communications array. He then flicked the switch to onboard communications, which was me to a pop and a thud, followed by more static.

"All crew of the Milano please report to positions and report in," Peter spoke as he activated the weapons system. The familiar missile control system buzzed into life, and and autocannons warmed for use. The Milano was a prepared battlestation, but yet never saw a particular lot of battling.

"This is Drax, reporting in place," the radio hummed as it tried to separate sound from static. Drax was positioned into a battle turret atop the Milano. It was vital that he not die, as any serious injury would likely result in all of their deaths. Or at least part of the group breaking up.

"This is Gamora, ready for action," Gamora announced through the comms. Peter tensed as he realized it was only Rocket who was missing from the report by now. Rocket's absence was strange; he was often the first person to any type of fight. Peter's thumbs gently tapped against the control panel as his breathing increased. This was no time to ruminate about facts, this was a time for action. Just as Peter was about to call out for Rocket, the radio crackled to life.

"This is Rocket, I'm in place." Peter breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that he wasn't going to have to take any further inquiry as to the wellbeing of the raccoon. The soft, snuggly, violent raccoon that he called his friend. The raccoon that would save his life in a heartbeat. The raccoon that wanted to lie to him to make his life simpler. Peter's eyes fluttered shut as he tried to refocus on the mission.

"Okay, we're all here. Await orders until further instructions are given," Peter said. He then returned the communications system back to chat with the fleet. "Hydrom, this is Peter Quill of the Milano, we are in place and ready to execute Operation Robin Hood."

"Quill, we are at a green light. We have 5 operational frigates in immediate range, as well as over 64 fighter craft, combined with the power of this Battle Cruiser," the captain said reassuringly. Just as Peter was about to reply with a go ahead, Jason's voice crackled into the conversation.

"Peter, listen, you don't have to do this. I understand it was something you promised to do, but you don't have to own up to it," Jason said through the comms.

"I don't need you to tell me that we can't do something that I know we can do," Peter responded. The relationship between the two was becoming more strained every moment they spoke. Peter couldn't figure out why Jason was trying to talk them out of it.

"But Peter, what if something happens to just one of you? Don't you care for your crew?" Peter just sat in his chair for a moment hesitating to respond. His crew meant the world to him, more than anyone besides his mother. If one of them died, it would be terrible. But on the other hand, it was a challenge that he had to own up to. Saving the lives of millions was better than the lives of five.

"Jason, we are doing this. My crew trusts me to make valiant decisions," Peter said assertively. Jason's only reply was a sigh, before he cut out of the line entirely. "Hydrom, we are on a green light. T minus 30 seconds." The Hydrom then cut out of the communications line as well, in accordance to the mission guidelines. Peter sat alone in the Milano's cockpit as he switched back to ship communications.

"Rocket, you better have that thing ready, we are hot. T minus 25." Peter waited for a response.

"Yeah gimme a second," Rocket replied on the other end of the line.

"We don't have a second. There's a Battle Cruiser on our tail," Peter retorted. A few seconds later, Rocket gave an affirmative.

"Okay, it's ready. We're on an orange light, ready to go green," the raccoon said simply. The second ticked down.

T minus 15.

T minus 10.

"Okay everyone, this is what we're here to do. Rocket, T minus 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Go!" Peter shouted from the cockpit. Suddenly, lights blared inside of the cockpit, as emergency messages filled radio chatter. Messages ranged from all sorts of different disasters, but they were random and loud. Peter also noticed the Milano using a massive amount of power to operate communications systems. Rocket's machine was indeed powerful.

Now all they had to do was wait. As Peter sat in his chair, he wondered about the mysteries of the universe. Why was he there, in that moment? He knew that he would never know. But it didn't stop him from trying to figure it out. The Ranger still had not shown up.

"Quill?" Peter nearly jumped out of his seat. He turned around to see the raccoon standing in the doorway, but not with his usual enthusiasm. There was a distinct sadness, a loneliness that perforated his voice. His gaze was down at the floor and his tail drooped down.

"Hey, you alright?" Peter asked. Rocket looked up to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry about last night Quill, I didn't mean to-"

"I know."

"Do you forgive me?"

"You almost sliced my face off once. I think this transgression can slide." Just as Rocket was about to respond, the red and blue lights of the ship's alarm flashed intensively. Lock on warnings and detection systems calculated probable trajectories of attack. Before either pilots of the Milano had realized it, the ship detected a massive vessel heading towards their location. Peter and Rocket shared a brief glance before turning their heads towards the dark and impending hunk of metal.

"Holy shit," Rocket said as he stared in awe. The Ranger's vessel was at least eighty times the size of the Milano, and carried massive battery turrets. Below the canons laid a large number of laser cannons that Peter knew could easily shred through the Milano. That was only if the ship didn't crash into them first. Rocket climbed into the copilot seat.

"Rocket, pull us out of here," Peter shouted in fear. The Ranger's craft was barreling down through space towards them. Rocket ruffled his fur and pulled back on the stick as hard as the small mammal could. The Milano responded by growling it's engines and eventually pulling the whole craft backwards. In space, light reflected on the yellow gold paint scheme on the craft. Not being used to the stress of such a maneuver, the Milano creaked and moaned under the G forces, much to the occupants dismay.

Flames roared out of the engines into the dark void of space, but not fast enough to launch the Milano off its crash course with Ranger's ship. The blood in Peter's face drained as he came across this grim conclusion. The words painted on the side of the nearing vessel blazed in his face with intense power, "The Interceptor".

"Rocket . . . is this it?" Peter asked the raccoon. Rocket kept his gaze towards the Interceptor in an attempt to destroy it with last-second mind powers. But it was going to be in vain.

"This is the captain of the Hydrom, inbound!" Just as the both of them had given up hope, the battle cruiser entered into the scene with all of it's 38 cannons blazing. The Interceptor's side exploded into a fiery scene of debris and particles, some of which impacted the Milano. Missiles exploded inside of the Interceptors port side in a chain reaction of detonations. Fire spread throughout the internal cabin of the Interceptor in seconds, and Peter saw the ship begin to take evasive maneuvers. The strength and power from the initial attack moved The Interceptor off course so far that the Milano was well clear from its path. Peter took the controls and navigated the Milano into a more defensible position. Gamora and Drax opened fire upon the significantly larger ships from the onboard weaponry in their gunner seats. Rocket sat mellow in his chair, his fear beginning to wash off and mix with adrenaline.

The Interceptor left no time to waste as it's crew prepared a retaliatory strike. Powerful cannons that lined the ship fired with a jolting force, that even shook the Milano. Peter's eyes trailed the missiles as they shredded into the side of the Hydrom, killing hundreds upon impact. Peter's hands gently gripped the controls of the Milano, and he navigated the ship through the increasing pile of debris. His eyes focused on the scene in front of him, not the raccoon beside him. The engines growled with a distinctive lust for death. The Milano flew past doorways and windows, not stopping to check for survivors among the ruins. Both ships continued their endless efforts of destroying each other, and no side had a discernible advantage. Peter looked up through the cockpit window as he flew beneath the cannon bay of The Interceptor. Gamora locked her weapon system on to the target, and blasted away at the unprotected heart. Shells fired out from the turrets of The Milano, sailed through space several hundreds of yards, impacted the surface of the enemy, and detonated. Cannons were ripped to shreds in moments, and The Interceptor was quickly losing its ability to fight back.

Peter moved out of the way as turrets began to fire back at him. The engines gave their best performance to the pilot, whose experience was beyond capacity of most humans. Another frigate jumped into view and began unleashing fury upon The Ranger. Not taking any additional risks, The Ranger charged his engines for a quick exit out of the sector.

"Where do you think you're going," Peter grumbled to himself as he flipped switches on the control panel. "Rocket, prepare to follow him to wherever he's going." The raccoon complied and set the tracking beacon on The Interceptor. Smoking, burning, and possibly about to shut down, The Interceptor activated it's primary engines and quickly disappeared from view. Rocket fired up the backup engines aboard The Milano and buckled himself into his seat.

"This might be bumpy," he grunted as he pressed the flashing green engage button. The engines powered up and pushed The Milano forward at great speed, quickly passing by all of the allied ships. Peter sank back in his seat as G forces crushed his human body. He looked over at Rocket for a moment, and saw that the furry raccoon was not faring much better. His fur was plastered back against the seat in unnatural fashion. The air seemed to become thicker than ever remembering it being, and breathing became difficult. Before long, even sight became a luxury he could not afford.

After nearly a minute of near light speed travel, the engines powered down and began reverse thrusting. The Interceptor was nearing an uncharted planet, likely his home. Peter sighed as the G forces became more bearable.

A dark planet swirled a small distance away, covered with dark black streaks and reddish clouds. The Interceptor was somewhere nearby, but had retained some of it's warp velocity to travel into an atmospheric injection sooner. Wherever The Ranger had to be in a time like this, it was urgent.

Rocket scowled as he plugged numbers into the navigational computer. What he was seeing on the screen and getting on paper were two different things. Eventually he curled up his small fist in range and beat on the keyboard a few times. He was a self conscious racoon though, and stopped after he realized Peter was listening intently. The computer gave up trying to do the work for Rocket, and let him manually enter the controls.

Meanwhile, Gamora and Drax had regrouped in the main lobby and were ready to follow the Ranger and his ship to wherever they went.

"Got it," Rocket called to the crew mid conversation. "He's gone into a cavern on the western side of the planet." Peter accepted the new coordinates and the Milano pressed forwards.

Peter looked at the dark planet below. The surface was comprised of a collection of rocks that had been worn by a windy atmosphere over thousands of years. Ahead of the ship, a large gash in the rocks appeared to be miles across. Anything could have been concealed in that, from a large vessel to an entire city. Peter swallowed as the ship began to descend.

Rocket surrendered control of the ship back to the pilot's chair, which Peter grabbed with white knuckles. A drop of sweat ran down his face, and even Rocket seemed at unease with the situation presented. The Milano dived into the cavern head on as the lights of the ship tried to detect the depth. A few thousand feet down, a light tan surface greeted them, and he banked the ship out of its steep dive.

"How far are we from the tracking beacon?" Peter asked. Rocket pressed a few buttons on the display and looked out of the window ahead.

"It says it should be about 1000 feet to our west." Peter and Rocket looked out of the window towards an interior cavern that was illuminated in blue light. The ship hummed inside of the entrance.

"How could the The Interceptor have gotten into here?" Peter asked to no one in particular.

"I don't like the look of this." Rocket said. Pillars of ice shards stood in front of the Milano, and Peter brought the ship to a stop.

"What's our distance now?"

"About 200 feet. We should be able to see it from here." Peter maneuvered the ship to a flat spot on the ground and enabled the landing gear. The distinctive clank as they latched into place prompted him to lower the craft fully. Peter's breathing had increased significantly, and the air burned as it ran through his lungs. He looked at Rocket with intensity, and he returned his look with optimism.

"Let's do this once and for all Quill. No more talking. No more planning. Now we get to doing." Rocket said. He picked up a large gun that was sitting off to his side and the barrel illuminated with a combination of green and blue. Peter pulled the pistol from the holster at his side and led Rocket down the corridor of the Milano as they joined up with the others.

Glances of approval and determination were on their faces. Peter couldn't have asked for a group of individuals more talented than those who stood next to him. Gamora, the determined warrior; Drax, the literal brute; and Rocket, the one he couldn't live without.

The cargo bay door opened and the team rushed out of the ship with their weapons raised. The air smelled peculiar. It had a scent of salt, followed by a humid tang that reminded Peter of home. The cavern was massive, with walls stretching into the sky, eliciting a light blue glow that provided some light in addition to their flashlights. Rocket held the indicator that had the direction of where the beacon was located in front of him, nudging Peter every so often to guide the team in a different direction.

"It must have crashed here," Drax said.

"I would agree, but there doesn't look like any signs of a crash." Peter replied. They continued another 100 feet until they reached a metal object that was planted into the ground. Gamora gave them the signal to stay still, and she cautiously approached. She inspected the object closely, and looked for any trip wires or motion sensors, but couldn't find anything. When she considered it to be clear, she gave the signal. Rocket rushed over to the device and began to study it, looking at it from all directions.

"Well, here's the source of our tracking beacon." Peter noticed something out of the corner of his eye and wandered away from the group by a few feet. He saw something out of the ordinary, a yellow line on the ground that didn't blend with the tan color of the ground above. He crouched above it, and reached out to touch it. He picked it up with his hand, and gave it a swift tug so that the wire was taught towards the direction that Rocket was holding the foreign tracking beacon.

On one side of the wire, it was connected to the beacon. A wave of terror ran through him when he saw the other side.

"Rocket, wait, I think the-" Suddenly an explosion knocked Peter off his feet and a few yards back towards where the rest of the team was standing.

As Peter was pushed on to his back, he looked up at a series of explosions that carved into the wall and ceiling of the giant cavern. One by one, they illuminated in a bright flash and quickly dimmed, a series of explosive Christmas lights that shook the cavern.

"Peter, are you okay?" Drax shouted as he pulled Peter back to his feet. Before he could answer, a series of large rocks and metal scaffolding plummeted down towards them.

"Watch out!" Gamora called as they crouched down. Peter bent over and felt some small rocks pelt his back, but nothing too large impacted him. He heard a faint wail and a sudden burst of liquid rushing in towards them. By the time he looked back up, a small amount of water was trickling towards his feet, and members of his team were looking around. Rocks scattered around him, and the air was filled with a thick dust.

"It's a trap! He knew we planted a beacon!" Gamora shouted.

"Help!" Rocket cried out. Peter looked around, moving towards the source of the noise. The cavern was darker, but still light enough to see in. He saw Rocket only a few feet away from him.

There was a steel beam that had fallen and pinned Rocket to the ground. One of his paws was violently jerking underneath it, while the other was pressed against it.

"Gamora, Drax, give me some help!" Peter squatted down and tried to lift the bar off of him, but it didn't budge. The other two got into position.

"On the count of three. One, Two, Three!" The group lifted with all of their might, but the bar barely moved at all. Peter looked and saw that one end was pinned by a massive rock that had rough, jagged edges. It would have taken a large bulldozer to move it any distance off of the beam.

Then Peter's heart dropped. He saw the water falling from the side of the cavern, sparking in the blue glow of the walls. The stream struck the ground with force and jettisoned the water a few feet into the air. When he looked down, the small dribble that had been approaching him was now a small body of standing water that licked the soles of his shoes.

Peter began to panic. Rocket was stuck under the beam, and if he didn't move it soon, Rocket would drown before he could get the ship back to save him. He bent back down, grasping the side of the beam with his fingers, and lifted with all of his strength.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed something strange. For years, Rocket had made uneasy glances towards him, and avoided direct eye contact, but his brown eyes were trained on Peter alone. He had stopped struggling to be free of the bar, but lay back against another rock to comfortably look at him.

"Gamora, Drax, get the ship over here ASAP! I'll see what I can do from here," Peter shouted at them. They both nodded, taking one last look at Rocket before sprinting off in the direction of the Milano. He then crouched down in front of the raccoon gently, and the two of them looked at each other for a few moments. Peter felt horrified as he realized the expression was that of fear, and one of loneliness.

"Peter, I'm scared." Rocket said, a tear running down his face. It trickled down, and fell on the white jumpsuit that Jason had given him. Below, the suit was smeared with blood from the leg to the waist, splattered all over, but the color was slowly fading as the suit absorbed the water.

"Rocket, I'm scared too. I . . . we have to get you out of there. I promise I'll get you out of there." But Rocket looked down and shook his head.

"Quill. Peter. I, I wanted to say this to you . . . but I never had the guts to say it."

"We can talk about it another time, right now we have to get you out of here!" Peter gripped the bar and pulled as hard as he could, but couldn't get it to budge. He started hammering it with his elbows and shoulders, but nothing would work. After every kick, every nudge, every punch, the bar simply refused to move under any force applied. It felt as if the weight of the world was pressing down on the bar, and that completing such a monumental task would have taken more strength than he could sum up in a thousand years. At that moment, Peter would have destroyed his ship just to free Rocket and get out of there. He would have sacrificed anyone else in his life: his parents, his crew. Anyone. Instead, all he could do was shout in disagreement with the water, and with the universe, looking up and shouting at whoever could have been watching them and banishing Rocket to his fate.

"Peter, I love you." Peter stopped and looked at him. He had never seen such fear in his eyes, but it multiplied inside of him. The raccoon's fur was matted and wet, and his voice was clear. Everything that Peter had known welled up inside of him. The memory of the time that Rocket had stolen his shirt and lied about it, the time that Rocket had sat close to him on the couch and came to his bed at night. His whole life appeared before him, as he realized that he really did love Rocket, that he wanted Rocket and thought about him and he cared what Rocket thought about him. The emotions all flowed to him at once, converging into an emotional wave that started in his dear ducts and ended dripping into the water below, leaving him one by one until he was drained dry of memories.

"No, Rocket, no, this can't be happening! I love you! I always loved you Rocket. I can't lose you! Not like this!" Peter couldn't see as the tears ran out of his eyes, but he thrashed his limbs at the bar, trying to move it at whatever expense to his own body.

"Peter, I'm going to die," Rocket said. "There's nothing you can do."

"No! You can't die. You . . . can't!" But Peter gave up the fight. The water was up to Rocket's chest and quickly rising. Peter felt the confliction inside of him, the inability for him to do anything, even though he felt as if he was control of his life at all times.

"Peter, listen to me! I disabled the decoy. You can still find him. Do it for me. But you have to save yourself before you get us both killed!" Peter leaned into Rocket, crouching down to his level on the ground, until he was close enough to smell his scent.

"I can't leave you Rocket. I now realize that I've wanted you since the day I met you, but it's only now that I'm able to say it. I should have told you earlier. I shouldn't have let us go on this mission. You mean so much more to me than you ever could have imagined. Rocket, you can't leave me now. You can't leave me!"

"It's funny Peter, what happens when you break a leg," Rocket said slowly as he reached up to touch Peter. "I never would have met the love of my life, and I wouldn't have ended up dying in some stupid cave on some even more convoluted planet. But it was worth it, Peter. These were the best weeks of my life. I grew up in a laboratory. I was tortured! I had no friends until I came across you, and you're the only person who's ever shown me compassion. The only one who's ever forgiven my mistakes. I deserve this for how I treated you." Rocket winced in pain. "I don't want to leave you. I want to curl up with you. I want to explore the galaxy with you. But . . . It's too late." Rocket said as he looked down at his crushed leg. The two of them stared at each other as the water level rose to Rocket's neck. The two of them had momentarily stopped sobbing, and stared deeply into the other's eyes.

Peter leaned slowly leaned in, and Rocket followed. His hands pulled him closer to the racoon until he felt his fur brush up against him. Rocket's breath was on his face, and before he knew it, he was leaning in ever so slowly. Eventually their mouths joined together, and the world stopped for a moment as they enjoyed each other's presence. Peter felt the connection he had desired, the truth of their love, and he felt as if it explained everything.

The two of them broke the kiss and looked at each other once more, not saying a single word. Suddenly, Peter reached into his coat and searched for something, and after locating it, opened up Rocket's paw gently and set it inside. He fumbled with it in his shaky paws for a moment before remembering that it was Peter's Walkman. Peter carefully took the headphones and placed them over the raccoon's ears until they were situated properly.

Tears dripped down Peter's face at a furtive pace. His eyes and face had become red without him wanting to hide it from Rocket. In the distance, he could hear the Milano's engines come to life, but they would arrive too late. Peter watched as the water rose up to his waist, and up to Rocket's mouth, until it was just his snout pointing up into the air for any last breath. A part of him couldn't believe what he was witnessing in front of him, and he tried one last time to dislodge the bar from it's location. Rocks began to fall as the cavern caved in, splashing water into the air as they crashed into the floor, but they had cumulative effect on Peter's actions and he let go to watch once more.

When Rocket was fully submerged under the clear water, he saw his brown eyes stare into his, and Peter simply embraced Rocket with all of his might under the water. Peter stared into his eyes, seeing Rocket for the last time. Rocket looked back with the same fear in his eyes, and Peter wanted nothing more in this moment than to tell Rocket that everything would be alright. Rocket began to convulse. His mouth opened and a mass of bubbles came out of his lungs, water filling in for the lack of oxygen. Rocket's face was twisted in pain, and his expression growing more dire by the convulsion. After a few more seconds, Rocket's eyes drifted away from Peter to some distant object, but Peter realized that it was no longer Rocket looking, but his body drifting against the current of the water. Peter couldn't bear to look at him any longer. The water above him splashed out of the way as he reemerged, but he didn't want to return. Rocket told him to. He had to survive. He began to swim towards the Milano in the deepening water, not looking back towards where he knew that Rocket's lifeless body was staring at him underneath the clear water. He saw the ship fly towards him but everything seemed to be happening around him without any input from his brain.

There was Drax, pulling him aboard the ship and dragging him towards the medical bay. Gamora was shouting at him, asking where Rocket was, but stopping after he only returned her questions with a blank glare. He slouched to the floor with a blanket, and noticed the spare bits and pieces that were laying on the ground around him. Pieces of Rocket.

The ship moved around, but he was in a hallway and couldn't see where they were going. He didn't want to know. All he could see was Rocket staring back at him from the depths of the water as he tried to stay alive so they could be together for just a little bit longer.

He couldn't believe what happened. Everything around him indicated that Rocket was still there, still with them, and still being his normal self. Peter stood up and made his way down the hall to where the communication machine that Rocket assembled was laying in its majestic casing. He ventured further down the hallway towards Rocket's bedroom, putting his hand on the door and taking in a breath of the odor. The raccoon was laying in his bed, staring back at him with cold eyes underneath the water.
He walked closer to the bed, trying to grasp what he could of the figure that he saw before him. A few feet away from the bed, one of the drawers to Rocket's nightstand sagged open with a small selection of fabric hanging out. He recognized its color as being one of his shirts, and the memories began to flood back to him in a rush of blurry images and inaudible sounds. A tear rushed down his face, quickly followed by a stream that pattered down onto the floor.

Everything they had done, the adventures to different planets, breaking out of a prison, saving a planet, all meshed together into one lump that he couldn't swallow. Peter was sick to his stomach, and fell to the cold metal floor in a way that pressed his face directly into the ground as the tears pooled against him. The door opened slowly as he wrapped his arms around his head and curled up into a ball. Light footsteps approached him until he looked up and saw the familiar concerned green face.

"Peter." Silence followed.
"Peter." He began to sob again, this time rolling over on to his back and running his hands through his hair until it was a frantic mess. It wasn't that he he didn't want to reply, but when he opened his mouth and tried to respond a wailing noise came out instead of words. Garbled sounds of distress, a violent sob that burst out of his mouth, it was happening at once.

"Peter, it's okay." Gamora said. Peter's crying calmed down, but the look in his eyes became fierce. He wiped his sleeve over his face and looked directly back at her.

"Wha - Wha do you mean that it's okay," Peter said before coughing, "He - He's -"

"I know Peter."

"And you know, it, for awhile there, and I was - I was scared, but," he hesitated, "I loved him. As more than - than just a brother or a partner." Peter sat up against the side of the bed.

"I loved him like, like one loves another person," he said.

"I know Peter." He looked at her questioningly, as she looked back into his eyes.

"Then how could - how could this have happened. We never should have been put into this much danger. How could you have let me take us on the mission!" Peter stood up with vigor in his muscles. "If you knew, why didn't you try to stop me!" He snapped.

"Peter, calm down!" She yelled. Furiously, he picked up a spare part that was laying on the floor and tried to tackle Gamora with it. She resisted him, and in the struggle, he lobbed the artifact into a nearby table that collapsed with the impact. Papers and metal bits spilled onto the floor with a loud clatter. When he looked down, a yellowed photograph lay at his feet. The edges of the paper had been worn with time, creases running down the corners from consistent travel and use.

He bent down and picked it up, holding it close to his eyes as he blinked the tears away. It was the two of them, standing together one night when they had been out drinking and decided to take a photo together.

"Peter, Rocket wouldn't want you to have just sat here and bawled your eyes out. Think about what he would be doing right now if you had been in his place." Gamora said. He lifted his eyes from the photo to look at her.

"He would want The Ranger." he said.

"He would want The Ranger." she replied.

The decoy was disabled, and the only other tracking beacon came a few hundred kilometers out across the desolate wasteland of jagged blue crystals. The engines roared as all power was directed to get them there as soon as possible. Peter stepped into the cockpit to the gaze of Gamora and Drax looking back at him. He only looked forward at the empty copilot chair, devoid of life, but he still saw the image of the raccoon looking over his shoulder as he walked in.

When he stepped forward and took a seat in his chair, the old senses of being a pilot flowed back into his brain. Control buttons, displays, and lights illuminated the board before him as he wrapped his fingers around the flight joystick.

"How long until we reach the destination?" he asked.

"About 2 minutes," Gamora replied.

"Load all of the missile silos with high explosive warheads. Pre ignite the laser battery."

"Peter - loading all of the mis-"

"I don't care," Peter said, "All I care about is destroying that bastard. I will fly the ship into him myself if I have to." Gamora nodded. Buzzing from the autoloaders disturbed the cockpit as the missiles clicked into place as they loaded into the silos.

"30 seconds." Gamora called out. The short radar image showed the ship partially crashed on an old space dock that had likely once served as the hub of nearby mining vessels. What the dock lacked in sophistication, it made up with defenses. Cannons were placed along the edges of the dock, protecting any ship that was landed within its protective radius.

"15 seconds." Peter curled his fingers around the red button on the joystick, the rage filling his eyes. He knew what he had to do.

"In range." Suddenly the ship jerked to a stop when their suborbital insertion completed. In front of them sat The Interceptor, smoking slightly on a large cargo deck. Some of the landing gear had failed and the ship instead precariously rested on the hull in a few places, menacingly positioning its white title directly at the Milano. The defense cannons locked on to their location and fired an initial blast, but Peter had already engaged the engines at max thrust directly at The Interceptor. Cannon blasts whizzed by them, but stopped as the AI realized that by firing at the Milano they could potentially miss and hit The Interceptor instead.

Gamora shouted as she realized that they were flying directly towards the exposed fusion reactor of The Interceptor, reaching out as if she could stop the ship on her own. Peter's focus concentrated, the target right in front of him, accelerating by the millisecond. He pressed the red button.

In what seemed like slow motion, Peter watched the rocket bay doors slide open and expose the red tips of the high explosive warheads. Gamora yelled behind him as they propelled one by one out of the bay, heading directly in front of the Milano. Peter saw Rocket laughing beside him in a fit of brilliance, as they flew only a hundred feet in front of them and impacted the side of the fusion engine.

A flash of light. Then everything went dark.

His eyes fluttered open, exposing the ground feet from his face. They had crashed into the surface of the planet, which Peter felt as a brilliant pain in his right leg. The control panel in front of him was dark, except for a few red lights that were fizzling out. Entire systems of the ship were gone, the silos and one entire wing ripped away. Behind him, Gamora and Drax lay incapacitated in their chairs. He unbuckled his strap and fumbled with the blaster underneath his chair, eventually slipping it into his suit. Stumbling towards the broken window next to him, he was determined in his effort to exit the craft.

The radio on their ship was most obviously dead, and he would have to find some other way of contacting the Hydroxa fleet to transmit their coordinates and be rescued. Peter pulled himself through the shattered window and onto the ground below.

They were laying only a few hundred yards from the exploded corpse of a once deadly battleship named The Interceptor. Its limp husk billowed smoke, the cannons destroyed, and the bridge completely obliterated from existence. Peter figured that the explosion must have been so large that it blew them back from the ship, possibly saving his life. A command center still lay partially damaged at the end of the dock, the control terminal still intact.

He stumbled with all of his effort, his flight suit ripped in multiple places, but lumbered across the ground towards the nearest entrance to the facility. The rocky blue terrain rose up around him on all sides of the valley, with a black sky illuminated by stars, and a sun still shining down upon them.

After what seemed like an eternity, Peter stood before the entrance to the small facility. He opened the auto door and stepped inside a room with outdated tactical equipment. Even further along, he wandered down endless corridors of windows and tubes, looking out at the remains of the ships. He followed every turn, looking for the control room, looking for a way to contact someone for help.

A realization passed through Peter's mind as he wandered down the halls: There was no one else here. The ship had landed for at least a few minutes before they arrived, but no one aboard The Interceptor apparently bothered to enter the command center and call for backup.

Finally, he opened a door to a room that overlooked the dock in front of him. A feeling of relief burst through his system as he rushed towards the control panel.

"I was starting to think that we were never going to meet, Mr. Quill." He froze. Turning towards the voice, a man stepped out with a blaster pointed directly at him.

"It's sad too, because I've actually been a fan of yours for quite some time." Peter looked at the thin figure before him, smiling back at him. He had grey hair and wore a black officer suit that was mostly torn.

"The great Star-Lord, defender of the common man." The Ranger laughed. Peter looked at The Ranger's leg and realized that it was shredded in many places, blood oozing out on the uniform and dripping down his leg.

"Haven't you learned by now Peter? You aren't a common man." Peter squinted at him.

"You know exactly what I mean. I've watched your every move. Your every thought. Your every action. Nothing is secret to me." Peter glanced around the room and saw various screens with camera feeds. Feeds that went directly into their ship, that went directly into Jason's office, feeds that watched the corridors that he had stumbled down earlier. Feeds that watched other planets and focused on individuals he had never seen in his life. It was massive.

"I know that you're a perverted freak." Peter's head sharply turned towards The Ranger.

"What did you say?" Peter asked

"I know about you and the raccoon. Did you think that I just killed people at random? That I, the true heir of this quadrant, as supreme leader, would simply my subjects? I kill those who are a burden on this society. Freaks like you who are messed up in the head. You and that faggot raccoon." Peter felt the rage well within him, bursting at every nerve in his body.

The Ranger collapsed to his knees as his legs gave out. His face went pale, but he kept holding the blaster up at Peter. The Ranger's hands began to shake, his entire body convulsing.

"You will pay for your sickness," he said, blood running down his cheek. The Ranger dropped the blaster and fell to the floor, his jumpsuit stained with blood. A metal shard stuck out of his side at an odd angle as he gazed up back at Peter.

Slowly, Peter took a few steps towards The Ranger as he took out his blaster and pointed it at The Ranger's head. Peter's eyes were sharp, and his stance determined as he decided the final fate of his nemesis.

"I'm not sick," he said as he redirected his blaster at The Ranger's foot. He pulled the trigger and watched as the foot was torn to shreds of muscle and blood.

"Don't think I'm going to let you go easily. You are going to suffer just as much as Rocket had to when you murdered him in cold blood." Peter pointed the blaster at The Ranger's knee and pressed the trigger. Bone shards flew back at him as The Ranger screamed in pain. His face was scrunched up, and body curled into a protective stance. His breathing became laborious, and he gasped for air. But he became still suddenly, and looked Peter directly into his eyes with a smirk on his face.

"Don't you understand Quill?" he said as he swallowed, "I've already won."

Peter pointed the blaster directly at The Ranger's head and fired. A stream of blood, brain, and bone blasted back at him, and the room fell silent once more.

Peter looked at the remains of the body in fear. A cold resolution swept through his blood, and he realized just how weak he felt. He dropped the blaster to the ground and looked away from the body. He closed his eyes and stepped towards the control panel trying to purge the image from his mind. After a few steps he reopened them and looked out the window at the dock, back at the remains of the Interceptor, at the ruins of the Milano, and the sun that shines down from a black sky.

He pulled the picture of Rocket and him back out of his pocket and looked at it once more. A smile ran across his face for a short moment, but faded as the picture slid out of his fingers and his knees buckled. The last thing that Peter saw before he collapsed to the floor was the image of Rocket in his arms, his soft fur brushing against him, and brown eyes looking back at him carrying the last emotion that he would ever feel: love.