The Guardians Family

If you had asked Peter Quill, on the night the Ravagers took him from Earth in 1988, who his family was, he would have said: my mom Meredith.

If you had asked him a few years later, after he had grown up among the Ravagers, he would have said: nobody. Just me.

If you had asked him on the day he saved Xandar from Ronan, he would have said: Gamora, Drax, Rocket, Groot, and me. The Guardians of the Galaxy.

But this story is about a much later moment in his life, when the answer had grown so big it almost did not fit in his mouth. When his family had become so wide and so wonderful that he could not count them on his fingers anymore. When the Guardians of the Galaxy had become something nobody could ever have predicted — a real, sprawling, ridiculous, beautiful family.

It started with a place called Knowhere.

Knowhere, as the older Guardians stories say, is the giant hollowed-out skull of an ancient Celestial that died long ago, floating in deep space at the very edge of the known universe. People live inside it. There are towns built across the inner curve of the skull. There are markets in the eye sockets. There are docks where ships can land along the back of the head. It is one of the strangest neighborhoods in the galaxy, and after many years of wandering, the Guardians had bought a long-term lease on a section of it and made it their home base.

Their family by then was made up of all sorts of beings.

Rocket Raccoon, the small genetically engineered fighter who had just come home from the hardest journey of his life — a journey in which he had faced the cruel scientist called the High Evolutionary, who had made him, and confronted the painful memories of the cage where he had been raised.

Groot, no longer a sapling but a tall, broad teenager-tree with deep growling words. He still only said "I am Groot," but the way he said it was more complicated now. The team could hear the difference between "I am Groot (hello)" and "I am Groot (I am hungry)" and "I am Groot (Quill is being annoying again)."

Drax the Destroyer, who had finally, slowly, started to understand jokes. Sometimes he even made one. Most of them were still wrong.

Mantis, the empath, who had grown up at Ego's side and become Peter's sister in the years after. She was the brightest spirit on the team, and the kindest.

Nebula, Gamora's blue-skinned cybernetic sister, who used to be one of Thanos's terrifying enforcers. She now ran the entire administrative side of Knowhere with a clipboard, a stern stare, and a heart that had quietly, very quietly, grown enormous.

Kraglin, Yondu's old first mate, who now wore Yondu's red metal fin on his head and was still — many years later — learning to whistle the yaka arrow into flight. He had gotten better. He could now hit a target eight feet away about half the time, which was a big improvement over hitting his own foot, which had been the percentage for several years.

And then there was Cosmo.

Cosmo deserves his own paragraph. Cosmo was a beautiful, fluffy, golden-furred dog. He had been a Soviet space dog launched from Earth in the 1960s and lost in space. The Collector had found him years later, when his fur had been changed by cosmic radiation, and Cosmo had developed extraordinary telepathic powers. He could speak directly into the minds of others. He had the saddest, most loyal eyes in the galaxy. He spoke with a soft Russian accent inside the heads of the Guardians, and he loved Peter Quill most of all.

There were others too. Some of them were not there anymore.

Gamora had returned to the team after the long battle with Thanos, but only as a version of herself from an earlier point in time, who did not remember her years with Peter. The new Gamora was Peter's friend, but she was not his sweetheart anymore. He had grieved about it. He had decided, eventually, to be glad she was alive at all.

And Rocket had brought home memories of three more.

Lylla the otter, with her soft brown fur and her quiet wisdom. Teefs the walrus, with his enormous tusks and his gentle voice. Floor the rabbit, with her mechanical legs and her brave little heart. They had been Rocket's cage-mates in the High Evolutionary's laboratory, long ago, before any of the Guardians had met him. They had not survived to leave with him.

Rocket carved their names into the inside of his workbench. Lylla. Teefs. Floor. He traced the letters with his small clever paw every morning while he worked on his engines. He cried about them at night, sometimes for many nights in a row. Peter Quill would sit next to him on those nights and not say anything. He would just be there. That, Peter had learned over many years, was what family did. Family did not always have to fix things. Sometimes family just had to stay.

The Guardians' newest ship was called the Bowie, after David Bowie — one of the singers on Peter's Awesome Mix Vol. 1. The Bowie was painted cosmic blue and bright orange. It had bunks for every member of the team, and a few extras for guests. The kitchen was big enough for Drax to cook for everyone, which he did, often, with much enthusiasm and not always with the best results. There was a music system Rocket had wired to start playing automatically whenever Peter walked into the cockpit. There was a small herb garden in the back where Mantis grew tiny green plants from a dozen different worlds. There was a data station in the engine room where Nebula ran her computer networks. There was a chair in the cockpit where Cosmo curled up whenever Peter was not in it, his big golden tail thumping against the leather, his telepathic thoughts drifting gently into the head of whichever Guardian was feeling sad that day.

Peter Quill was, by then, in his forties. His hair was streaked with a little gray at the temples. His red boots had been replaced twice. He was no longer the only human on the team — Kraglin was technically human-ish, and there were rumors that Mantis was distantly related to humans too — but he was still the only one who insisted on Earth food whenever they could find it, and the only one who still played the same twelve songs over and over until everyone else groaned.

One day, after a long, peaceful spell with no major emergencies, Peter Quill announced that he was going home.

He meant Earth. He meant Missouri. He meant the small farm where his grandfather still lived.

The whole family came with him.

The Bowie made the long jump through the Galactic Bridge. It came down through Earth's atmosphere, blue and orange shining against the blue Missouri sky. It landed in the cornfield next to Grandpa Quill's old farmhouse.

Grandpa Quill came running out the front door. He was an old man now, with thin white hair and weathered hands and the same kind, surprised face Meredith had once had.

When he saw Peter — alive, grown, after all these years — he started to cry.

Peter cried too. They hugged for a long time in the corn.

Then Grandpa Quill turned around and looked at the rest of the family climbing down off the Bowie. A blue-skinned cybernetic woman. A talking raccoon. A tall growling teenager-tree. A red-skinned man with intricate tattoos. A woman with antennae on her forehead. A ginger-haired space pirate with a red metal fin. And a golden dog who was floating gently three inches above the ground while wagging his tail.

"Well," said Grandpa Quill, blinking. "I better make a lot of pancakes."

He did. He made an enormous stack of pancakes. He made twenty extra ones for Drax, who ate them all with great solemnity. He fed bacon to Cosmo, who projected the thought "I LOVE YOU FOREVER" so loudly that everyone in the kitchen had to wince. He gave Groot crayons to chew on. He poured strange Earth coffee for Nebula, who pretended not to like it but had three cups. He listened to Mantis tell him about her herb garden. He let Kraglin practice the yaka arrow in the front yard, which resulted in a small dent in the toolshed.

That night, after dinner, the whole family sat on the front porch and watched the stars come out over the Missouri cornfields.

Peter sat next to his grandfather on the porch swing.

"You done good, kid," Grandpa said quietly.

"Yeah?" Peter said.

"Your mama would be proud of you. Real proud. You found yourself a fine family."

Peter looked out at the porch. Drax was teaching Mantis how to play horseshoes. Rocket was tinkering with the lawnmower while Groot watched with his branchy arms folded. Nebula was asking Cosmo telepathic questions about Earth's history. Kraglin was scratching his red metal fin. The Bowie sat in the cornfield like a strange beautiful piece of jewelry left in a wheat farm.

"I love them," Peter said. "All of them."

"I know you do," Grandpa said.

The next morning, Grandpa Quill stood on the porch and waved as the Bowie lifted off. He waved until the ship was a tiny speck in the sky, and then for a few more minutes after that, in case Peter could still see him.

Inside the cockpit, Peter Quill sat in the captain's chair with Cosmo's heavy head on his lap. Rocket was in the navigator's seat. Groot was leaning against the back wall. Drax was in the kitchen telling stories. Mantis was watering her herbs. Nebula was tinkering. Kraglin was practicing his whistle. The ship hummed under all of them.

Peter looked around at the family he had built.

He thought about Meredith, his mother, who had given him the tape that started everything.

He thought about Yondu, his other father, who had taught him how to be a Ravager and how to be a man.

He thought about Gamora, in whichever version of her was still flying somewhere in the galaxy.

He thought about the friends Rocket had lost — Lylla and Teefs and Floor — and the way Rocket carried them with him in carved letters every day.

He thought about all the people who had loved him into being who he was.

And he pressed PLAY on his Zune. The opening guitar of "Come and Get Your Love" by Redbone drifted through the cockpit. Cosmo's tail thumped on his leg. Groot bobbed his big tree-head on the beat. Rocket rolled his eyes. Drax tried to sing along. Mantis swayed. Nebula pretended not to be smiling.

Peter Quill, half-Celestial son of Meredith, captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy, looked around at his strange, wonderful, sprawling family — and he understood, at last, that the lost boy from Missouri had not just been found.

He had been adopted. By the entire galaxy. One person, and one telepathic dog, at a time.

And as the Bowie pulled out of orbit and arced toward the next adventure, with twelve songs playing and seven friends around him and a quiet ember of Celestial light warming his chest, Peter Quill smiled the slow, content smile of a man who knows, finally and forever, exactly where he belongs.