They say that time heals every wound.

Peter's not so sure but at least it should serve to dull the pain.

He's standing on a balcony overlooking the capital of Xandar and watching the people rebuild their lives. (Again.)

There are still deep trenches here and there, marks on the city where Ego simply ate parts away, but the overall loss of life was thankfully small.

Apparently (just like creating) digesting life is harder than it looks at first and when Ego's mass crumbled it gave its victims free again.

Nova Central Command was the hardest hit, with its once proud tower looking like a skeleton now.
Nothing more but a vaguely stable collection of support beams and some floors and walls, and yet the Corpsmen seem all to be going about their business as usual – as everybody is, actually – and Peter for once doesn't know if he's envious of or appalled by it.

He survived Earth and its bullies and his mother's death, space pirates and Ego and whatever the universe threw at him in-between, Ronan and Infinity Stones and his friends' very own special brands of insanity and yet, right here, right now is the point when he's not quite sure how to go on.

That's never happened before.

There was always something new to see, something new to discover, something to run to (or away from) but right here, right now, he only feels tired and lost and aimless.

And alone.

Always so awfully alone.

There's movement behind him and Denarian Saal leans on the railing next to him.

(There's always somebody with him by now, since they squirreled the Infinity Stone safely away.
If out of fear that he will go after it again or out of some other all-important reason Peter's too exhausted to give a damn about right now.)

(Or maybe he's just too scared of what he'll find to try and figure it out.)

Saal holds something colorful out to him and after a few seconds Peter recognizes his walkman.

(Did Peter ever mention that Xandarians are nerdy little over-achievers and that he really loves them for it?)

The sight of his old companion makes him smile for the first time in days and Peter can't help the warmth spreading in his chest.

He missed this…

Smiling.

He takes the walkman, puts on the headphones and waits for the music to start –

It's not the same.

It's very close, he will give them that, but the pitch is slightly wrong and the smell is just too sharp and the ridges and scratches he remembers from a lifetime of use are all gone.

There was a nick at the side where Peter once hit it against a table and the tape always stalled slightly between song two and three.

The sound of the innards is just a tick too quiet and the place where his mom carved his initials is blank and scratch-free.

The headphones are too soft and the sound too clear and he's pretty sure he will never have to unscramble this particular tape.

The background-noise is missing and the color is too pale and light blooms under his fingertips and recreates his walkman anew.

It takes memories and sentiments and answers his wishes and when it fades again his walkman looks like new.

Well, the old new. (New old?)

Peter feels his breath catch in his throat and his fingers tighten possessively around his recreated treasure.
Then he risks a glance up at Denarian Saal, expecting shock and resigned to no slight amount of fear. (How could there not be after what Ego did?)

He sees only acceptance instead.

Respect.

Peter feels his spirits lift and a full-fledged grin bloom on his face.

He turns the volume up and feels one of his feet begin to tap and starts to quietly sing along.

Time heals every wound, they say

Peter's determined to find out.

He has eternity in front of him (or however long his life lasts).

He can go wherever he wants and stay however long he wants and for the first time in years he's completely and utterly free.
The future is bright and there's so much of it and so much to discover and see.

Peter can't wait.

…

(Maybe he will talk the others into hunting down the Ogord-clan next. Time to introduce himself to his gramps on the other side of the family. Get some dirt on Yondu and hear all the embarrassing tales. And maybe he will even put in a good word for his dad while he's there, who knows. Depends on how nicely the blue bastard asks…)

(Oh, and screw 'Growing up' by the way, Peter's happy as he is.)

(Who knows how long Celestials live anyway?)

…

And if there are still the slightest flickers of purple in his light, well, he's certainly never going to tell…