Amongst the Stars // Peter Quill

Let's Take A Trip To Your Home Planet pt.2

"'Thank You, Avengers,'" read Charlie slowly, "Avengers? Who are the Avengers?"

Peter stopped beside her to observe the mural as well. He shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. The one guy's got quite an obsessive thing about red, white, and blue, though," he noticed. 

"American pride?" guessed Charlie. 

"Maybe. Hey, look, I've been thinking, and how cool would it to be married on our home planet?" suggested Peter excitedly. 

"We don't have valid ID's, or licenses, or practically anything needed to get a marriage certificate on Terra," declined Charlie. 

"I have my piloting license!"

"To fly in space."

"I think that's pretty legitimate."

Charlie giggled. Hand in hand, the couple kept their heads down low as they walked the streets of their old town. It looked the same as they could remember. Some of the buildings had been bought out, or in the process of being renovated, but as they strolled the main road, they felt as though they were eight years old again. 

"Do you remember the pizza spot that used to be on that corner?" wondered Peter, "Your mother would let us run there and back for a dozen cannoli's on Friday nights."

"Oh, gosh, do you remember the music shop we used to go to after school?" asked Charlie. 

Peter abruptly dragged her into the alley, cutting through to the opposite side of the street, where another block of stores was present. He peered at each window as they walked by, checking the stores. He stopped in front of their store.

"Wow," breathed Charlie. 

"It looks the exact same," smiled Peter.

Gripping his hand tighter, Charlie busted into the record store. She and Peter stopped in the entrance to take in the atmosphere they had missed for twenty-six years. They were barely finished reminiscing about their abundance of memories when a song started playing in the speakers mounted on each wall. 

Quite embarrassingly, Charlie and Peter began dancing in the entrance of the shop. 

Uptown funk you up uh
I said uptown funk you up
Uptown funk you up
Uptown funk you up  

"Um," coughed a voice, breaking the two out of their dance, "can I help you?"

"Yes, we're interested in the name of this particular song," said Charlie politely.

The teenage boy fell into a fit of laughter. It died down once he realized they were serious. "What, have you been living under a rock? It's Uptown Funk."

"By whom?" asked Peter.

"Bruno Mars and Mark Ronson, duh," said the kid. He huffed and walked away. "Old people..."

Charlie's hands slapped to her face, feeling for creases in her skin. "Do I really look that old? Have I aged that much since I was last here?"

"No, baby, there's not a wrinkle, or a grey hair anywhere. You're just as hot as you were when you were seventeen," assured Peter.

"Seventeen was my peak?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"I can't remember yours. I do remember your hair when you were fourteen,, though. Remember, you tried the half braided and half buzzed cut?" 

Peter flushed. "It was the popular style in the galaxy," he defended quietly.

With a wink, Charlie shuffled away and into the first row of cassettes. Five minutes in, Charlie's shirt had turned into a kangaroo pouch. She housed around ten cassette tapes within her shirt. Music had truly evolved since they left Earth. 

"Earth is boring," sighed Rocket.

Charlie tapped her ear piece. "This is just a really boring town. We'll find you some pictures of Paris, London, New York... You'll be impressed. I promise."

"Code green!" whisper-shouted Peter, sprinting across the store to her. He pushed down on her shoulders until they were hidden. 

"We never discussed codes," panicked Charlie, "what are you talking about? Code green?"

"Don't freak out," warned Peter. 

"Okay."

"Your father is here."

Charlie's breath caught in her throat. Her lip quivered, close to expressing a scream. 

Peter slapped his hand over her mouth. "Don't panic on me. Give me your cassettes. I'll pay, you just run out of here, go to the ship, and don't look back."

"No, I can't run, they'll think I stole something!" she whispered.

"You've held an infinity stone in your bare hand," said Peter, cupping her face in his hands, "Charlie, if you can do that, you can sneak out of this store!"

His encouragement worked. She was feeling good, sneaking out of the music store, until she tripped over a folded over rug, and was forced to crawl on the carpet the remaining distance. Quiet whimpers of repeated, "Shit!" babbled from her mouth. 

"Oh, ma'am, you have a potty mouth, don't you?" chuckled a man. Her father.

"I apologize, sir," said Charlie, gaining a crude British accent.

"Not from around here?" 

Charlie stood. To hide her face from his view, she scratched at her eyebrow and kept her chin close to her chest, allowing her hair to shield her face.

Her father reached for her wrist. "Oh, dear, don't scratch, you'll..." His tired eyes widened upon seeing her face, when she rushed to back away. "Charlotte?" he asked breathlessly.

Charlie's heart ached. That was her father. They hadn't seen one another in twenty-six years. The entire time, each had envisioned what their last goodbye was, if they were granted the chance. There they were, a final goodbye, and Charlie was forced to lie to her old man.

"Sorry, who?" she choked out.

Vincent Rivet shook his head apologetically. A sad laugh escaped his lips. "My baby girl. Her name was Charlotte. She was abducted twenty-six  years ago. We never found her, or her best friend... You just... You look remarkably similar, ma'am."

"I'm sorry for your loss," mumbled Charlie.

"I miss her very dearly..."

"Well, I'm sure you'll see her again someday."

"Uh, honey, time to go. I think the kids need us!" called Peter from the door. 

Charlie began to back away as fast as possible. She turned her head just in time, as the tears she was blinking back chose that moment to spill onto her cheeks. Before her voice broke, she bid her father a farewell, then sprinted from the store, away from the tragedy shattering her heart.