It was over.
The war was finally over. He didn't know how, what string of luck they were granted from whatever higher power. But it was over. The universe was how it should be.
But it was still so wrong.
He remembered waking up. Disoriented and hurt. But alive.
The others, they explained that they had somehow manipulated time in their favor. Explanations were short lived, however. The war wasn't won yet. He had work to do.
And he did it. With the help of his friends, old and new. He redeemed himself. Nearly sacrificing himself for the cause that he had personally jeopardized. Due to rage. Anger. Love.
He had never felt such a sense of satisfaction when that monster took his last breath.
He lowered his gun. His heart felt heavy, and oh so old. Exhaustion and pain crept up on him, filling his head and body with darkness. He heard panicked voices call out to him as he tumbled to the ground.
When he woke up, the hurt was still there. But so were his friends. He tried to smile. He really did. But he couldn't. Too much had been lost. Too much.
He remembered her telling him, before he was brought back, that she couldn't follow him. That it was different for her. She had to stay behind.
He refused to accept it. Tears streamed down his face as he held her, begging her to please come back with him.
She smiled, wiping his tears away. She kissed him, slowly. He never wanted to stop. He fueled the kiss with his love, desperately hoping that maybe, somehow, it would change her mind.
And then she was gone.
And so was a part of him.
They memorialized all who had fallen. The numbers were too great. The sky seemed to weep as rain crashed harshly on their tear stained faces. Dark clouds blocked out the sun.
The universe had been restored. But at what cost?
The God of Thunder raised his weapon high into the sky, and the clouds dissipated. Rays of light streamed down upon what remained of the heroes. The warmth promising of a new start. New life.
They said their goodbyes to their new friends. And Peter left Earth for the second time in his life. He wondered if it would be the last.
The flight was quiet. The seats of the Milano filled, save for one. He looked over at the empty seat. He gripped the throttle harder.
Vormir was beautiful. A cold, desolate landscape, and a single, steep mountain. The oranges of the sunset cast sparkling light on the two tall pillars at the top. Snow fell softly.
He couldn't see the beauty in it.
She had told him where to find her. And so they treaded silently through the snow, and climbed up the bench of the mountain. Their hands froze as the hours passed. But they went on anyway.
His heart stopped when they finally found her.
She lay, perfectly still on the mountain edge. Her body mods had kept her preserved for all this time. Her hair was splayed perfectly around her, light snow clinging to her dark lashes. Her eyes were closed. She looked as if she were only asleep.
His legs trembled as he neared her. He couldn't breathe. He shook his head and crashed to his knees beside her, gathering her into his arms. The tears welled up again, and he let them fall.
She was so beautiful, he thought. He brushed her hair from her head, stroking her cheek. She was so cold.
"I'm so sorry," his shoulders shook with his sobs, "I'm so sorry."
His friends stood to the side, their own tears trailing down their faces as their broken leader cradled his love in his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Gamora," he brought his forehead to hers, and rocked her slowly back and forth.
"I love you, more than anything."