It had taken Uncle Ben a long time to die.
Not according to the EMTs, who declared that it happened too fast. That he'd lost too much blood by the time they arrived. That there was nothing they could do.
But to Peter, who had sat there clutching his hand, absolutely powerless as he listened to the blood drain out of him and his heart and lungs crawl to a stop, a few minutes had seemed like an eternity.
Tony had been dying for hours.
Peter hadn't been able to drown it out, the terrible wheeze in his chest and the way his heart was completely out of rhythm. He'd grown paler and weaker and Peter still hadn't been able to do anything, besides beg like a child and make him promise not to die.
He'd made the same request of Uncle Ben, sobbing like a baby, over and over. "Please don't go." It hadn't done any good. He'd just clutched at his hand, smiled through the pain, told Peter he was proud of him. He would always love him, he had said.
Always had ended seconds later.
Tony hadn't said all that much, though Peter had rambled and rambled, trying to keep him alert and distracted. He'd dozed a bit on the spaceship, short power naps to stave off the exhaustion, but he woke every time to a wet, garbled breath or a pained cry. Eventually he realized it was better just to keep watch.
And now that Tony's heartbeat had been silenced behind the thick walls he couldn't hear through, Peter was terrified that Tony's heartbeat had been silenced forever. That the last memory of him Peter would ever have was Captain America carrying him through the lab doors after he had blacked out, blood flowing freely from his side, head lolled back. Helpless, like no super hero was supposed to be.
That he had died alone, when Peter had been just barely out of reach.
Which was stupid, because he wasn't alone. The doctor was there, and Captain America was there, and they'd been friends long before Mister Stark had ever caught wind that a punk kid from Queens had decided to fling webs and fight crime.
Not that they'd been friends in Germany, when Mister Stark had asked him, nobody Peter Parker, to help on a mission of personal and national importance. They hadn't been friends afterwards, when Captain America had disappeared after being labeled a rogue fugitive, and Tony had returned to his Compound and his spotlight.
Peter was still mad they hadn't let him inside the operating room. He wasn't bothered by blood and he could have helped by telling the doc how Tony's vitals were doing.
He supposed they had instruments for that.
It still stung.
He'd been left, staring at a locked door, with a motley crew of Avengers in what should have been one of the best moments of his life and all he felt was anxious.
And sick. And terrified.
Colonel Rhodes had been the one to come up to him and place a hand on his shoulder. He'd nearly jumped out of his skin before spinning toward the man. One look at his face revealed that Peter had moved too fast. The soldier stepped back, his arms out, placating.
"Easy, Peter. It's just me."
"Colonel Rhodes." They'd met on the way to Germany, and ran into each other a few times afterwards at the Compound, when Tony let him mess around in the lab instead of mixing dangerous chemicals under his desk in class, but they had nothing in common besides Tony.
"I told you it's Rhodey." His smile was more like a grimace. Peter didn't think he could do it.
We've fought aliens together in outer space, kid. I think you can call me Tony.
Not until he knew.
"What happened up there?"
"Thanos. Mister Stark got stabbed." It was barely an explanation, and no help at all. He could see the moment Colonel Rhodes brushed him off as a useless kid, so he tried again, forcing himself to use the words that so rarely failed him.
"We had a plan. Doctor Strange said we had one shot out of a million to win. We lured Thanos to some planet with the Time Stone, and we ran into this weird group of people – and not people – who were after Thanos too. We had him trapped and we almost got the gauntlet off, but then one of the people freaked out because Thanos had killed his girlfriend or something, and Thanos got away. He was really pissed. Iron Man fought him, but Thanos stabbed him." Peter considered stopping there, to avoid the disapproval the rest of his story would surely cause, but he knew that he couldn't. Because there had to be a reason, and Tony might not ever be able to tell it.
"He was dying. But Doctor Strange traded his life for the Time Stone."
The protests he expected did not come. Colonel Rhodes paused for a moment, and then asked, "Who the hell is Doctor Strange?"
"I think he's a wizard. Or a magician. Also a real doctor. I dunno. He's the one we followed on to the spaceship, because he had the Time Stone in his necklace."
"I crashed into his house," said a man Peter didn't recognize, who was graying at his temples. "After I got beamed off Thor's ship. He was a magician, crazy as that is to believe."
"Everything about our lives now is crazy to believe." The Colonel scrubbed a hand over his face. "Where's this magical doctor now?"
"Dust." Peter wished he could control how his voice caught, but it was impossible not to picture it, all those people flaking apart and drifting away, and it was happening to him too and he felt it felt it felt it. "Those other guys we met up with too. Only me and Tony and Nebula were left."
He could hear how everyone shuddered at his words. Breathes hitched and hearts sped up and Captain America's knuckles clicked as he clenched his hands into fists.
"Who is this Galaxy Girl?" someone finally asked, and holy crow it was Thor, though his hair was short and his eyes didn't match.
Thor had always been, embarrassingly, his aunt's favorite Avenger.
Peter scanned the room but he could not hear her gears turn and knew it was pointless. He had not seen her follow him out of the ship, but he'd been focused on Tony's rapidly deteriorating state. She'd been understandably nervous about whether she'd be accepted on Earth, but he hoped she was still on the roof, waiting. Space would be awfully lonely with only a thirst for vengeance for company. She had been short tempered and rude, but she'd covered him with a blanket while he slept and she could have just left them on the planet full of ash but instead she'd gotten them home hopefully on time.
"She's Grape Face's daughter." He hadn't meant to say it. It wasn't particularly clever, but he felt a bit like Tony as everyone gaped at him, and he finally understood. Because it was hard to be as afraid when he was thinking of something ridiculous. "She hates him as much as we do, or even more. She brought us home. She's a friend. Even if she doesn't act like one. Tony asked her to stay and fight with us."
"She's also blue," he added, realizing that might be relevant. "She's hopefully waiting in the ship."
Colonel Rhodes looked at the locked door behind Peter and then sighed. It was the sigh of someone who'd just finished four back to back AP exams or witnessed the death of half the universe. "I better go make her feel welcome."
"I too shall go," Thor offered. "My brother was blue, though he hid it well. I shall not be shocked by her appearance, no matter how monstrous it may appear to mere mortals."
"It's not that monstrous," Peter said, but no one listened. He scanned the room as Colonel Rhodes and Thor left it. It was some kind of lobby, but no one sat behind the gunmetal reception desk. Peter worried if he got too close he'd see a pile of ash. The far wall was all glass, and through it there was both a wonderous city and more grass than he'd seen in all his life. He'd never pictured Africa like this. He could stand by that window and keep his mind busy for hours, but he didn't want to see the remnants of battle, the smoke and the ash and the bodies, and the mourning of those left behind. He could hear it when the Colonel opened the door, just for a few seconds, a whole nation's voices raised in some chilling upswell of pain.
There were three chairs set against the wall, as if this really was a waiting room, although he didn't think it was a hospital. It was far too empty for that. They were much too high up to be practical. Peter sunk into the chair closest to the locked door and settled in to wait.
He had never been very patient. His powers made it worse, because unless he had something to focus on the sensory input was overwhelming. He was all right as long as he had his phone – all he needed was CandyCrush or YouTube to keep him suitably distracted. But his phone was in a backpack stashed behind some dumpster in New York, several thousand miles away. He didn't even have anything in his pockets.
He felt an urge to climb the wall – literally – and he was among the only company in the entire world where that wouldn't be unacceptably weird, but he forced himself to stay put. The others drifted away without a word and Peter forced himself to sit, his head braced in his hands, searching for a heartbeat he could not find through the ridiculously airtight door.
The force of that door being thrust open startled him upright. Captain America strode through, saw Peter, and sunk down beside him.
"How is he?" Captain America looked so defeated that Peter feared his answer, but he couldn't bear the uncertainty any longer.
"He's stable. Shuri kicked me out. Said I was hovering."
The terrible pressure in Peter's chest loosened, just a little. Stable was okay. It wasn't great. It meant "out of the woods now" not "out of the woods always" but Iron Man was strong and if he'd made it this far he'd probably be fine in a not-hospital and besides Tony had promised.
"You got him here in time. Shuri said if it had been much longer he wouldn't have made it. But she's patching him up. She's a bit of a miracle worker. And Tony's a tough old bastard." The Captain shot him a quick, guilty look, as if Peter had never heard that word before. "Don't tell him I said that." He huffed out a labored breath. "Or go ahead. We could all use a laugh."
Captain America was huge. Peter hadn't noticed that in Germany, because everything had been so new and exciting and his perspective was kind of skewed from above. But he was at least twice as broad as Peter, and Peter felt like a dwarf sitting next to him in these weird but strangely comfortable chairs. But he wasn't as red white and blue as he was in all his PSAs; now his uniform just looked faded. Peter would not dwell on the grime he was covered in, and who it might have been, yesterday.
He was also sporting a pretty impressive beard. It made him look older though, ragged and weary. Peter supposed he was old. He'd been frozen for decades, and the age was finally starting to show.
Peter had a million questions he'd wanted to ask him once, back when he was certain he'd never have a chance. What was it like to wake up after sixty years? What bit of technology was hardest to accept? What had made him willing to test out the super serum? And later, when he was not quite so young: How did you adjust to suddenly being so strong and so fast? Did you ever look in the mirror and not recognize yourself?
And then, finally, What happened to lead up to Germany?
But none of those questions seemed to matter much, now. Talking would pass the time, but Peter just wanted to brood in peace.
"You should get some rest," Captain America suggested, his voice kind but unfathomably tired.
Peter shook his head. "No, I'm good."
"He'd want you to take care of yourself."
But the thought of leaving the room nearly sent Peter into a panic. He couldn't even fathom standing by the window. "I can't leave him. Not until I know he's okay." Sleep held little appeal. If he tried to rest now he'd surely have nightmares, and he didn't need the other Avengers hearing that, not before he had a chance to prove himself. They didn't need to see him as any more of a child than they already did.
"I'm glad Tony had someone to watch out for him."
Peter studied him through a sideways glance. He sounded almost wistful. "Are you guys over your stupid fight now?"
Captain America exhaled like it could expel all his troubles, casting them off onto the wind. "It wasn't stupid. But I hope so."
Peter hoped so too. It had all seemed so cool when the Avengers first assembled. Peter had pictured them all hanging around the Tower, gods and super soldiers and geniuses, best of friends and nearly unstoppable. That was long before he met Tony and realized how lonely he could be, with his wealth and his security detail and the sunglasses that didn't hide much of anything. He'd need friends – if he survived – to make any of this okay.
They sat in awkward silence for awhile until Captain America took his leave, clapping Peter on the shoulder and apologizing – unnecessarily – for Germany.
Peter didn't realize until he left how much it had helped to have someone else's breathing to focus on and an excuse to hold it together. He was exhausted, but he dare not close his eyes for more than few seconds. All the adrenaline of the past few days – wizards and aliens and new tech and space and Thanos and Tony and ash ash ash – had worn away, and the crash was threatening to drag him under. He felt shaky and weak, and almost too nauseous to sleep. The worst was the memories that assaulted him when he let his guard down – sobbing in Tony's arms as he felt himself being unmade, and all the terrible moments after when he realized Tony might be the one to die.
He missed May. She would know what to do. She always did, when he came home battered or traumatized or just brimming with standard high school angst. She'd wrap him in the fluffiest blanket from the back of the couch, not caring whether he was cold or not, and then set about trying to make him one of his favorite meals. They'd have a good laugh when she failed, and she'd order too much takeout and they'd eat it in front of the TV, laughing at cheesy sitcoms. She always knew when he needed a hug or a kiss on the forehead, and even when she was mad she'd tell him how much she loved him.
He'd never seen her as mad as the day she found him in his Spiderman suit. She'd let out an impressive string of profanity that would put even Mister Stark to shame, and she'd made him explain himself: what had ever made him come up with the idiotic idea to put on a mask and throw himself in front of criminals, and being a superhero wasn't glamorous, it was dangerous, and they were adults with resources and death wishes and no aunts to worry sick at home. So he had told her, about Uncle Ben and the guilt he was trying to outswing, and how much the neighborhood needed him and how he couldn't just sit back and do nothing when he was made to help now. Something in her face had softened, and she'd sat real close and laid her hand on his shoulder, and she'd grounded him for two months and cut the data from his phone, but she'd let him go on patrols as long as he promised to be home before 3am and wake her if he needed anything.
He didn't like to do it. But there were times, when he couldn't save everyone, that he would come home in tears and knock on May's door, and she would make tea and ask him what happened. She never judged him, even when he made a mistake, and she told him she was proud. It had been easier, after the Vulture, not to carry the weight of his secret anymore.
But he hated to worry her. She told him it was okay. That the mothers of fire fighters and police officers worried, but that didn't mean they stopped doing their jobs. "I just need you to come home to me," she'd said one night as she stitched up a bullet wound to his shoulder as if it were a tear in a t-shirt. "As long as you come home I'll make everything okay. I can't stand the thought of you hurt somewhere with no one to take care of you. If something happens I need to know."
Now he had been gone for days, and he knew she'd spent every second wondering if he was dead in an alley somewhere. Wondering if she'd have to ask that question for the rest of her life.
And maybe she had.
Maybe it had taken just a few moments for all the warmth and spunk and love that was Aunt May to dissolve in a swirl of dust. Maybe she'd realized what was happening just long enough for her to think she was about to see him again.
But if there was any type of afterlife waiting, Peter wasn't there.
The thought of her still searching but gone left him swirling with a dread even worse than he'd felt on Titan. He needed her to be okay, because how could he put one foot in front of the other if she wasn't? How could he face the end of half the world if he was well and truly alone?
But everyone had lost people. Why would he be spared?
He never called her Mom. But there was something about her name that evoked the same feeling, the same primary consonant allowing him to pretend what he'd never voice aloud out of respect for the parents he remembered less and less. He loved her fiercely, and she resonated that love with an equal tenacity that was even more special because she'd chosen to turn her nephew into her son. Peter knew he was lucky, because he could have ended up in foster care somewhere and instead he'd gotten May – and Ben – and more love than his sad six year old self had known what to do with.
They had saved him, and he had not saved Ben. But he would save May. If she was gone then he would stand with the Avengers and do absolutely anything to undo Thanos's snap.
He was so zoned out that he started when someone sat beside him. "I'm not going anywhere," he said sullenly, needing to save all his fight for Thanos.
"Wasn't going to ask you to," Black Widow drawled, and Peter couldn't help but look at her. There was no situation on Earth where a woman like this spoke to Peter Parker. Yet here she was, bombshell looks and deadly grace, and he wasn't even dressed like Spiderman, just a sixteen year old kid.
She handed him a bottle of water and what was probably a granola bar. "You should eat and hydrate. You'll need to keep your strength up to watch over Tony. Take it from me, he doesn't make it easy."
He didn't want to be interested. But there was something in her wry tone that hinted at a story, and he needed something to keep him distracted so he stopped seeing May flake away in front of him. "What do you mean?"
"SHIELD assigned me to watch over him once. Figure out if he was trying to kill himself. That was one of the most aggravating missions I've ever been on, and that's saying something."
"He wasn't, though?" Peter asked, alarmed.
"No," she assured. "He was dying, though. That made him more of a reckless jackass that usual." She must have seen the way he went pale, even though she didn't seem to be looking at him. "Relax, kid. That was a long time ago, before he got all his arc reactor troubles fixed up. And he's even been working on the jackass thing, though he still has his moments. Pepper must be a saint." Peter could see her pause and tense. "Hopefully still is."
"Miss Potts is okay," Peter assured. "We heard from her before we landed."
"That's good. Tony needs people he cares about to keep him off the deep end." Now she was definitely looking at him, a little too pointedly. "Welcome to the club."
"Uh, thanks?"
"That skepticism is totally justified." Her chuckle was dark and joyless. Peter noticed that at some point she'd shifted her leg so it brushed his, not in a way that was creepy or sexual but perhaps comforting.
Surely the Black Widow didn't do comforting?
She took a drink from her own water bottle and Peter devoured the snack within moments, only realizing when the first bite of tasty but unidentifiable oats and berries reached his tongue that he was ravenous. She tossed him another bar and he did not protest.
"Wish he'd wake his lazy ass up, though. It's time to go home."
He had no right to ask who was or wasn't waiting back home so he waited, staring at the foreign characters on the wrapper which seemed to be made of biodegradable cellulose.
"Clint's been calling," she finally said.
"Hawkeye?" Peter guessed.
"Yeah. Yesterday he was home with his wife and three kids. Now it's just him and Lila."
That was like the blast of an alien weapon straight to the gut. He tried desperately not to imagine it and instead thought of May, watching him and Ben fade away.
They had to find a way to fix this.
"The guy's a superdad, but now he's calling Aunt Nat every few hours as if I know how to deal with a confused and distraught eight year old. I have to get back there."
"Can't you just take a jet?"
"How do you know I can fly a jet?"
"Can't you do everything?"
She smirked, and for a minute she didn't look quite so sad. "Right answer. I can. But technically we came on Tony's Quinjet, and he'll want to get back as soon as he is able. We already brought destruction to Wakanda. Doesn't seem right to demand another aircraft too." She blew out a breath which stirred the hair at her temple. She'd been a red head the first time he met her. "I'll wait for a little longer. But he better hurry up and pull through."
She pulled a phone from her pocket and frowned at the screen. "I gotta take this," she said, looking almost apologetic. "Take care of yourself, Peter. We spiders need to stick together." She smirked at him, then left the room without making a sound.
He wished she'd left him a second bottle of water. The back of his hand itched, but he dared not scratch it, because he imagined the skin flaking off and floating away. He could still remember the awful feeling, closer to numbness than pain, of his body literally being unmade and forcing itself back together, his cells in a terrible race against some evil force, as his heart and lungs pounded to keep up and panic skitted through his veins faster than blood.
He had been so sure he was going to die. He hadn't understood how or why, just the way all his senses screamed DANGER all at once as his mind replayed how the aliens had crumbled into nothingness. Then Mister Stark had been there and he hadn't said much of anything – hadn't offered any comforting lies beyond a halfhearted, "you're all right." But his arms had wrapped around him like a vice, and Peter had imagined that the pressure had helped, an external force pressing inwards as he willed himself to stay solid. There had been ragged breath against his skin and a pulse to listen to that was not his own, and when all his senses had quieted Mister Stark had still be there, reminding him to breathe and rubbing his hand across his back.
He hoped, somehow, he'd been able to do the same for Mister Stark. Tony, he'd said, in a voice wrecked by pain. That maybe his childish promise could somehow press in his ruined insides and hold back the blood and help him get by just a little bit longer. Because Tony may have been too busy to pay Peter much mind, but he was brilliant and brave and he'd plucked Peter from obscurity, giving him a chance, every once and a while, to make a difference even beyond his neighborhood.
Peter had really thought, when he'd jumped out the window of his school bus, that he'd actually be able to do something. Aliens were attacking his city, and he could not let that stand.
But he had failed. He hadn't been fast or strong enough to get the gauntlet off Thanos, and now half the world was gone including maybe Aunt May and Tony might die and he hadn't been any help at all.
"Your father is going to be all right."
He practically fell out of his chair. The girl who had spoken, who had dark skin and impressive braids and looked roughly his own age, regarded him with a skeptical expression.
For a moment his mind blanked. His father wasn't going to be all right, his father was gone, and oh. Oh. "Mister Stark isn't my father." But that wasn't the important part, and all the fight drained out of him as he sagged with relief. "Is he really okay? Can I see him?"
"He needs his rest. He has been through quite the ordeal. But he spoke of you with his last breath before the sedative kicked in. He asked that I make sure you were all right. Will you sleep if I let you see him?"
"Yes!"
Her smile was wan. She'd lost someone too. "A few minutes only. Follow me."
She led him through that hateful door, unlocked now and no longer an obstacle. Behind it was a lab, not a hospital room, but Peter didn't care how futuristic it looked. All he could see was Tony.
There was color under his skin again, even if he was never so still. Tony fidgeted almost as much as Peter did, shifting his weight or weaving expressions with his hands. Last night in the spaceship he had tossed and turned. Now he wasn't moving at all, but Peter could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady.
"His heart's not beating fast enough," Peter said, pressing his thumb against Tony's wrist so he could feel his pulse thrumming against his skin.
"How can you tell?" the girl asked.
Peter was not in the habit of being honest about such things. But he supposed, if he was an Avenger now, that would have to change.
"I can hear it."
That did not surprise the girl as much as it should have. "So you are part of his merry band of heroes, then?"
"Yeah. Kinda. A late addition. But his heart should be beating faster."
"Technically it should not be beating at all."
Peter grimaced, and waited for the other shoe to fall. What if Tony was in a coma, and he and Black Widow would be stuck in Africa forever—
"I have given him a very strong sedative. His body needs time to heal. It will wear off in twelve hours, and he will wake. It is good that I am very good at what I do. By the time he reached me a traditional doctor could have done very little for him."
"Thank you!" Relief made him lightheaded – or maybe that was low blood sugar. He squeezed Tony's hand and thought that maybe the day was looking up. "You have no idea how much this means to me."
"And why is that, if he is not your father? What does he mean to you?"
The girl tilted her head, staring him down as if he was her prey, and Peter froze just as uselessly as a rabbit in a field. "Uh. He's just…" a billionaire who's taken a special interest in me. The man who saw me on YouTube and recruited me to help with a personal vendetta. Altogether too brilliant and busy to pay me much mind except when the universe needs saving. My childhood hero, who somehow showed up in my apartment one day and knew what I was.
There was no way to explain it that didn't sound weird and kinda creepy.
"He's like a mentor. With superhero stuff."
God, he sounded sixteen.
"And what would you do for this mentor?"
"Anything! I mean, within reason. I mean, nothing bad. Why are you looking at me like that? This is getting weird now."
"What powers do you have besides super hearing?"
"Why do you want to know?" he demanded. This girl may have saved Tony's life, but her vibe was throwing him off.
He thought, irrationally, of MJ, and then realized there was a 50/50 chance he'd never see her again.
"My brother's powers came from a special herb, but my cousin destroyed it. I have been trying to determine how the herb infused his cells with Vibranium, to see if the effect could be replicated synthetically. Another data point would be helpful."
"Wait – your brother's the Black Panther? The king?"
"My brother was the Black Panther." She tilted her head toward an elaborate urn that sat on one of the lab tables. "That is all that is left of him now."
He wondered if it would ever get less horrible to hear about those who were lost. Part of him hoped not, because if life lost its value they were in even more trouble. "Oh God. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. And here you are, fixing up Tony and—"
"It took my mind off the grief. It is easier to hide away here, studying the dust that was once my brother, than to face the void he has left."
"I'm so, so, sorry."
"It is not your fault."
Except it kind of was. "But I didn't stop him. We had Thanos in our grasp. We had this plan and it was working. I was pulling on the gauntlet but I couldn't get it off. We failed."
But if his failure scandalized her she didn't show it. "Think that's bad, colonizer? Your friends came here because they thought I could remove the Infinity Stone from the android's forehead without killing him, so that it could be destroyed safely. I knew it was an important task. But no one warned me the cost of failure, or how little time I had. I thought it was a game, to beat the clock and prove how clever I could be. The cost of my defeat was half the universe, and everyone I held dear."
And he thought he'd been having a bad day. He was far too familiar with that chasm of guilt, and how easy it was to drown there. Spiderman made him strong enough to tread water. But it had been his choice to climb out.
And he'd rather pull her out with him then drown there together.
"What Thanos did - it's not on us. Maybe we could have done things differently – but we never meant for anyone to get hurt. We tried to save them." As he said the words he found that he believed them. It hadn't been enough, but they had tried. And they would try again, as long as there was still someone innocent to fight for.
"And those we lost – they wouldn't want us to blame ourselves. They'd want us to remember them, and strive to be better. That's how they'll live on. In our legacy."
He looked at the photo of Ben and May at least once a day, so he wouldn't forget, but the memories weren't as sharp as they used to be. He had mourned a long time, but he knew Ben would be proud, just as he knew that the man had loved him.
"I'm Peter, by the way." He held out a hand, not sure if that was culturally appropriate.
She looked at him like he was crazy, but grasped his hand tightly and shook it once. "Shuri."
"You can run any tests you want. I'm happy to help." He took a deep breath and tied to ignore how uncomfortable he was with that very idea. When his senses had first gone haywire he'd been most terrified of being locked up in a lab, poked and prodded and dissected like a rat.
But he'd never imagined his tormentor as a grieving teenage African princess. And when she acknowledged his offer she looked a little less sad.
"Lay down on that table there."
He did as he was told. The metal was cool against his skin. Now that he wasn't so worried about Tony he was beginning to take in just how insanely cool the place was, with pops of graffiti brightening stone walls which contained tech beyond anything he'd seen even in the Avengers Compound.
"This lab is awesome."
"I designed most of it myself." Pride brought a spark back to her voice. "What powers do you have beside super hearing?"
"All my senses are enhanced. Super speed. Super strength. Super healing."
"Super ego," she finished, pressing something on a control panel. A burst of light radiated from the table, seeming to solidify above him, but before he could feel claustrophobic it evaporated, as scan results projected on a nearby wall.
"Very interesting," she muttered as she stared at the screen.
"What's interesting?" he asked, pushing himself up.
"Un-huh. Lay back down. I'm not finished yet."
"You're pretty bossy," he muttered.
"I did not need super hearing to hear that," she countered, sticking her tongue out at him. "Now tell me, how did you acquire these abilities?"
"I got bit by a spider."
"A spider did this?"
He laughed at the way that he'd caught her off guard. "It was genetically engineered, obviously. Radioactive, I think. I was on this field trip – man I have a bad track record with field trips. We were visiting this lab and I got bit by one of the experiments, and afterwards I started to change."
"I am going to need a sample."
"Do you really have to take blood? I hate needles."
"We are not savages. I just need you to rub this inside your cheek." She handed him a cotton swab.
He blushed as he handed it back, and did not notice the instrument she pressed against his other hand until it was too late.
"Oww," he said as she held what looked like an old school microscope slide under his pricked finger. "You said you didn't need blood."
"I did not say that. I implied it so you would not freak out."
"Smart."
"You have no idea." She placed the slide and the swab on the edge of the table. Images appeared above them almost instantly, crisp and magnified.
"Wait, is the table also a microscope? This is insane."
"So are your cells. Their makeup is different than my brothers, but equally abnormal."
"They look like they're holding together though, right?"
"I do not know what you mean. All cells decay."
"But they're not, like, breaking apart and fusing back together at a rapid rate, or anything?" He held his breath, trying to make sense of what he was seeing on his own, but he'd never paid as much attention in biology as chemistry.
"Why would you ask that question?"
He tried not to remember that terrible feeling, the numb almost pain, but just the thought of it made him break into a cold sweat, and he was glad he was already lying down.
"Your vitals are spiking."
"I thought I was going to die." Sometimes facing his fears made them less scary but voicing this aloud didn't help. "Everyone around us started breaking up and drifting away and they didn't know what was happening. But I knew I was going to die. I could feel it. But I could also feel my body fighting it. I just want to know if it really stopped. Or if it could still catch up to me if I let my guard down."
"I have no baseline to compare to." Shuri's voice wavered, ever so slightly, and Peter worried. He did not want to die here, in the coolest place he'd ever seen, any more than he had on an alien planet that did not live up to expectations. "But I have spent hours staring at what is left of my brother, trying to understand. Disintegration was catastrophic on a molecular level, and from what I've been told, near instantaneous. Your body would have to wage quite a war to fight that. From what I can see, your cells are at peace."
"So I'm okay?"
"You are victorious. And very brave."
"I don't feel brave," he admitted, sitting up so he could draw his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. Despite Shuri's assurances he still felt like he had to hold himself together.
She sat down beside him, her legs swinging off the table. "I always thought that I was. My brother was the hero, but I could help him face any obstacle, and I did not worry. But now I am hiding here, because as soon as I step out of this building I must face the truth that I am queen. My people will need their queen to fix what has been broken, and I want that more than anything. But I am terrified that I will fail them."
Peter didn't know what he could possibly say to that, or how he'd gotten the girl to open up. But he thought of the Black Widow's leg brushing his, and how the touch had been grounding, and he uncurled one arm and laid it on the table between them, hoping he wouldn't do something taboo and make the whole situation worse.
He spent a few awkward seconds wondering before her hand clasped over his.
"The Council will say that I should cede the throne to M'Baku, if he still lives. They may be right. I was not trained for this. I never wished to be queen. M'Baku is strong. He challenged for the throne before, and he might be a good leader. But the throne is all I have left of my brother. Of my family. It seems wrong to give it away."
"I think you'll make a great queen," he said. "If anyone is smart enough to figure out how to put the pieces back together, it's you."
"If I could recreate the herb, then I would be able to commune with my ancestors, and see if my brother was among them. I could ask him what I should do."
"What do you think he would say?"
She blinked, and he could see the tears hovering on her eyelashes, but they did not fall. "He would tell me that I could do anything I put my mind to, but it was up to me to decide."
"Seems like he was a pretty smart guy too."
"Not nearly as smart as me," she said, "but a very good man."
They sat in silence for awhile as Peter let her compose herself. When she turned to him her hand tightened around his. "Do you have family waiting for you back in America?"
He blew out a stuttering breath. "I don't know. It was just me and my Aunt, but I was in space when it happened and she's back in Queens. Hopefully."
"And no one thought to get you a phone? Honestly! Earth's mightiest heroes they may be, but not the brightest." She jumped off the table and dug around in a nearby drawer, handing him some cross between a phone and a tablet. "Call her. She should not need to worry a second longer. Nor should you."
He hesitated, fear surging inside him like a wave. Not knowing at all was better than knowing she was gone, because it let him hold on to hope. If he called and she didn't pick up he'd have to face the fact that Tony was all he had left. That he'd been orphaned again. And the cost of his failure had once more been someone he loved.
But Shuri was going to be queen.
And he was Spiderman.
He could do this.
He dialed the number with shaking fingers, and was shocked when a window projected from the phone, declaring that a video call was trying to connect.
"My aunt doesn't know how to use Facetime," he said, which had always been a joke between them, because Peter could build computers out of things he found in dumpsters and May could barely master the basics of technology.
"For this call she will not have to."
It rang too long, each second excruciating, and Peter imagined the phone lying abandoned on the floor of a dusty, empty apartment. "Pick up, pick up, pick up, please May," he begged under his breath, overwhelmed by just how strongly he needed her.
And then the square above the screen lit to a weird side view of his kitchen, and the vague mumbling through the speakers was more beautiful than a symphony or the first swell of Star Wars. "Now you work. What's this?"
"May," he shouted. The projected image tumbled and went black as his aunt dropped the phone.
"Shit," she muttered, and Peter barked out a laugh, giddy and hysterical. She was okay. SHE WAS OKAY. "Shit. Peter is that you? Hold on. Please don't be me losing my mind."
"Just pick up the phone, May," he said, the changing view as she fumbled with it making him a bit dizzy. "Hold it out in front of you."
And when she finally did and he could finally see her, pale and trembling, hair unbrushed and eyes so wide his laughter turned into tears, and he smiled through the sobs that threatened to tear through him.
"Oh God Peter, look at you. Is this real? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's me. I'm okay." For the first time since Titan he meant it. "This is real, I promise."
"Where are you? Wherever it is I'll come get you. Just hang tight."
He could feel her love through the phone and it washed over him, taping back together all the pieces of his heart that had still been flaking away, even after his body had stabilized. "I think I'm going to have to find another ride. I'm in Wakanda."
He chuckled at her double take. "What are you doing in Africa?"
"That's a really long story."
"You owe me the whole thing, mister. Every detail. And you can tell it to me when you're grounded, because you're not leaving this apartment again for a good two years at least. I'm not even mad, I'm so relieved. But you are so grounded."
He didn't even care. He could sit in that apartment and do nothing but talk to May for two years and he'd be perfectly content. "I am so glad you're okay."
"You're glad I'm okay? I'm not the one who's been missing for days."
"Didn't Miss Potts call you? Tony called her as soon as we got back in range and she was supposed to tell you I was okay."
"She might have tried. My phone's been a brick since … yesterday. No service at all. I'm not sure how you got through."
"I told you we needed a better provider, May."
"Well we don't all have irresponsible billionaires who give us toys and lead us into horrifically dangerous situations." May's tone had changed, but Peter was well acquainted with the icy disproval she harbored towards Mister Stark ever since she learned of his role in Peter's double life. "I saw him on the news getting sucked up in some spaceship. And that's where you've been all this time? Space?"
"Yes."
"And then instead of bringing you home he takes you to Africa?"
"That wasn't really his choice. He needed medical attention, fast, and Colonel Rhodes said to bring him here. He's okay now, by the way."
"It's a good thing someone patched him up. Means I get to throttle him myself."
He knew May's anger was understandable, but he wished the two most important adults in his life would be able to get along. "Don't be mad at Tony. He sent me home so that I would be safe. I came back and snuck on board the ship. He didn't know until it was too late to send me back again."
May sighed and pushed all the hair away from her face. "Why would you do that?"
"Because there was someone in trouble we needed to save." He couldn't bear to tell her it was also because he'd thought that Iron Man needed backup. That would surely not go over well.
He could see some of the fight drain out of her, the way it had when he'd explained why he needed to be Spiderman. "And did you save him?"
"Yeah. But it didn't matter anyway in the end because … " He'd been so euphoric when his plan had worked but it hadn't mattered anyway because Strange was gone and half of everyone was gone and …
"Oh Peter. Come home. Please just come home."
"Have you heard from Ned?" he asked, because now that May was safe that was the next person he needed to account for.
May froze, and he knew even before she whispered, "I'm so sorry honey."
He couldn't believe Ned was gone. Ned, the first person who'd spoken to him at Midtown. Ned, the first person besides Tony to find out he was Spiderman. Ned, his guy in the chair. Ned, who he'd left behind on that bus without looking back.
But no tears fell, because, "It's okay. Tony and the others, we're going to fix this."
"Peter, the news – what's left of it – they say that it's everywhere – all across the world – roughly half the people are just gone."
"All across the galaxy," he corrected, and the magnitude of that was just insane – billions upon billions, and he had no idea how many inhabited planets were out there, but it was probably a lot.
And one giant raisin did not get to bring them all to their knees. "The Avengers won't let him get away with it."
He didn't expect that to make May look more scared. "Don't you go running off on another crusade, Peter. You come home first, do you hear me? I need to see you. I need to know that you're all right."
"Mister Stark will be well enough to travel in the morning, and we shall send you little hero on his way." Shuri poked her head in front of the phone, jabbering brightly.
"May, this is Shuri. She's the one who patched up Tony and leant me a phone."
"Well, hello Shuri. Glad someone in Peter's life is responsible." She raised an eyebrow. "So it's Tony now, huh?"
Peter shrugged. "We fought aliens together. Formality seems a little unnecessary now."
Her chuckle sounded a bit like a sob. "Come home, Peter. I love you so much."
"Love you too, May. I'll bring you a souvenir!" He signed off quickly so she wouldn't see the emotions wash over him, leaving him numb but extremely exhausted.
"You really think that what has been done can be reversed?" Shuri asked.
"Yeah. Thanos had a stone that can turn back time. It's a long shot but the Avengers won't give up until we work something out."
Shuri stared at him for an unnervingly long time, and then she pulled a bracelet of black beads from her wrist and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"A souvenir. For your aunt."
"What's it do?"
"It looks nice." Shuri laughed like it was supposed to be funny and then touched the bracelet on her other wrist. "Now this one – this is proprietary technology."
He put the bracelet on his wrist, too tired to pry.
"You can keep the phone, though. If you Avengers do try to reverse this, I wish to help in any way that I can. I expect you to keep in touch."
"I will."
"Good. Now it's time to follow the doctor's orders and get some rest. He will not wake for another eleven hours. You should get some sleep. And you are also is desperate need of a shower."
He laughed at the disgusted look she shot him, and then hopped off the table and went to stand in front of Tony. His breathing was still easy, his heartbeat steady. After a moment of hesitation Peter grabbed his hand. He didn't expect the wave of fondness that washed through him, fierce and unrelenting. "Sleep well, Tony. I'll be back before you wake up."
"It seems to me, when a man worries about someone else's welfare with what might be his last breath, he must care quite deeply about that person."
Shuri was watching him closely. Suddenly self-conscious he dropped Tony's hand. "What?"
"After my father died, there were moments when my brother strove to fill the void he had left in my life. He will always be my annoying older brother, but there were moments when he was also more."
Peter thought he knew was she was trying to say, but he was too tired to process it. "Why won't you let this go?"
"Because there are too few people left not to be honest with one another. My brother knew how much he meant to me. But I still wish that I had said it more."
But Peter wasn't sure what Tony meant to him, and he understood even less what, if anything, he meant to Tony. Right now all he knew was he was extremely grateful that the man had survived unscathed. "I'm so, so glad you're all right." Giving his hand one last squeeze, he turned away and followed Shuri out of the lab.
So sorry for the delay, guys. Real life, you know? But I am so grateful for all the reviews I've received so far, and if you enjoyed this I'd love to hear from you. One more part to go.
