Dearest Readers,

Wow. I can't believe we're coming to an end on this story. It's been such a huge part of my heart since I started writing it last summer and I can't believe it's finally done. I am so overwhelmed by all your sweet reviews and your encouragement, and I hope you will still hang out with me here and join me on other stories in the future. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. This story has meant a lot to me, and I hope it has meant something to you too. Happy readings, as always.

Love and goodbye (but only for now)

Pip


CHAPTER TWENTY NINE - Epilogue


Celebration of Life - Tony Stark


...

The crowd begins to drift away and I'm goddamn relieved about it.

"Well," I say lightly, running my hands in a nervous, sweaty-palmed motion down my pantlegs, and drum a small let's go beat on my knees. Rad-a-dum-dum. "That was nice. Let's go."

"Tony," Pepper sighs, giving me a look.

"Ms. Potts?"

She inclines her head towards Peter Parker, wandering back down the hill with his hands in his pockets, looking pale and glum. His Aunt is rising to meet him. They stop by Vision and Wanda, and Vision seems to be actively trying to engage them in conversation.

"What?" I ask, trying not to sound irritated.

"Go say hello."

"Already said hello."

"So," Ms. Potts smiles, "It's easier the second time around."

I hadn't talked to Vision much since he let the kid out of his sight and he got shot in the head. Maybe there's a strange part of me that still resents my invention-turned-Pinocchio for getting off scot-easy just because Peter ended up alive after all. Obviously I'd rather have him alive, but, I hadn't quite let go of the anger for his death yet. Because what if he hadn't? What if he hadn't lived? We'd be here for two funerals.

Vision was careless and it was sheer dumb luck and Natasha Romanoff that kept the unimaginable from being permanent.

"Tony!" Pepper repeats. "You have to talk to him sometime. You're his boss."

"Fine," I get up and tug at my cuffs, adjusting the sleeves, and slide my sunglasses back on. I purposefully stride over towards them, but my path is quickly obstructed by Scott Lang.

"Lannister," I greet mildly.

"It's Lang," Scott replies confusedly. "You, uh, recognize me, right? Scott Lang? Ant Man? Newest and biggest Avenger?"

"How could I forget," I say, shaking his hand. I didn't forget. I'll stop pretending when he stops falling for it. "Glad you could make it."

"Well, I sort of didn't. I just got here. My flight was delayed. I missed the first part, anyway."

"Did your flight forget his sugar drink?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"I didn't ride Gerald here. I flew. United."

"Who the fuck is Gerald?" Wade steps into the circle. "And why are we riding him?"

"I guess my vacation is over," I sigh.

Wade grins maniacally at me. "The bahamas are beautiful this time of year, boss."

"Gerald is an ant," Scott interjects sheepishly. "Not quite fast enough for cross-country travel. So I flew on a plane like a normal person."

"If you'll excuse me," I say slowly. "I need to - uh - catch someone."

"Can we talk about the elephant in the room first?" Scott asks. He looks at Wade, as if expecting to be interrupted.

Wade squints. "It's too early for a joke. Go on."

"I just thought it was worth mentioning," Scott shrugs. "If you… if you guys need to talk. About, you know. What happened. Luis and I were involved in the beginning, getting the kid from prison and putting him with the bad guys. We've gone back and forth on this as to whether or not we should have… um…"

"What?" I ask shortly. "Told Cap to suck it?"

"Wow," Wade says, acting offended that I said suck like a middle-aged mother.

"Not precisely like that," Scott says uncomfortably. "But… maybe. Yeah."

"The hardest part about all of this, is that Cap died with a big, fat mistake on his curriculum vitae that he'll never be able to apologize for, or undo." I take a deep breath and look away. "It doesn't lessen the honor that he died with - but…"

"We're left with the residual guilt," Wade says with a surprising amount of insight. "We get to handle it because Cap isn't here to. That's just our fucking luck. I say we just shoulder the shit and agree that it was a bad idea. Half of it was mine. Okay, like half of a quarter. And it's no thanks to me that Peter Parker isn't lying dead in the ground today too. So. Let's just not play this game, eh?" he slaps Scott on the shoulder. "So, you gave the kid a ride to hell. So… remember I was the one that hired you to do it in the first place. You have a creepy ass van and I was like - bingo. Put Lang in charge of operation pick up. Cap agreed with me. So that's what we did. Now get over it. Move the fuck on. I know we are."

Scott smiles uncertainly. "Okay. If you, uh, insist."

"I do insist," Wade makes a butterfly motion with his hands, like a badly choreographed interpretive dance. "As the great Enya once put it, sail away." He sidles off, clearly done with the conversation.

As am I. I'm not ready for rehashing this. I did enough of it interrogating Bucky Barnes with Vision, and I hope to never do anything like that ever again.

I give Scott a sigh. "So. You coming, or what?"

"Oh. Yup. Yeah. Thanks."

We walk over to Peter, May, Vision and Wanda.

Peter greets Scott quite excitedly, and I can see Scott's face turn from apprehension to relief. May and Scott giving each other an acknowledging nod, though maybe May needed Wade's speech a little more than Scott or I did. Though she probably wouldn't have such a relaxed reaction.

"How's Luis?" I can hear Peter asking.

"He's really bummed about the van."

"What happened to the van?"

"Well, when he was driving it back to California…"

"Oh no…"

"It was just too old. It didn't make the trip. Died somewhere in Arkansas."

"Last road trip ever," groans Peter.

I turn away from them and give a pained smile to Vision and Wanda.

"Viz," I greet cordially. "Scarlet."

They both look a little uncertain. "Stark," Vision greets politely.

An awkward silence falls.

"What is this?" Wanda asks brashly, a bit of Sokovian accent slipping out on the is. Sounds more like eez. "Are you ever going to make up, or should we tiptoe around your toxicity for the remainder of the Avenger's existence?"

"Well said," I say, holding out my hand.

Vision visibly relaxes, and takes my outstretched hand. We shake.

"Past is in the past," I say. "I'd like it to stay back there. If at all possible."

"I couldn't agree more."

So that's it, then. Like Wade said, in the rarest moment of wisdom. Move the fuck on.

That's all we can do. If it can't be Avenged, maybe it can be forgiven.


Small Talk - Peter Parker


...

If I thought being at the funeral was awkward, the reception afterwards is even worst.

There's nothing to divert our attention to - like a preacher, a gravesite, the wind in the trees or a disgraced Avenger spy watching from a distance.

All we have to focus on is each other.

I'm quickly finding out that none of these people know how to grieve. Not properly, anyway. They're heavy on the booze and feelings, light on the practicality.

I never thought I would think this, but having been through a perfectly ordinary death in the family and a funeral for Uncle Ben, we're more used to this ceremonial rite of passage than the rest of them.

They've never had to do this type of ordinary closure for an Avenger before.

The picture of Captain America on the easel propped up by the bar counter is smiling blankly, eyeline directed uncomfortably in my direction.

I find myself looking away and wondering just how much trouble I'd actually get into if I swiped something alcoholic. Just to give it a try.

I managed to never drink while working undercover for the Vulture and meeting in various seedy taverns and what-not across New York - and this is what breaks the winning streak? It would not be worth the rage that Aunt May would then unleash, so I quickly stop entertaining those thoughts.

We're in the common room of the tower, the one with the bar, and the big windows. It's my first time here. To everyone else, it has a second-hand, comforting nature, like a living room that they're all used to. Sam Wilson puts a baseball game on the large flat-screen TV at one end, explaining that it's Cap's favorite team playing today. He watches and drinks his beer quietly, and eventually Wanda joins him, curious about the sports game she's not super familiar with. Apparently they didn't have baseball in Sokovia.

Sam starts to overly-explain how baseball works, but one glare from her quickly shuts him up. I think about joining them - just so I can sit on the couch - but I don't really want to watch baseball.

I just want to not be standing. I'm bone-exhausted, like just thinking about a feather could knock me over.

Everyone stands in various circles around the room, drinking cocktails. A server stops by with a tray of finger foods, making rounds.

I got stuck - somehow - in an absolutely silent circle between my aunt, Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, Dr. Banner, and Black Widow. Who I should probably stop calling by her spy moniker and actually say Ms. Romanoff. Part of me is dying to ask her if Bucky was okay, and if she talked to him about what they're going to do in Wakanda, but I can't stand the thought of how embarrassing that would be if she didn't want to talk about it. And even worse, if she had to tell me in front of everyone else.

So I keep my mouth shut, chewing absently on a cucumber sandwich that tastes like dust in my mouth.

I wish MJ could have come. She had a test.

I still hadn't quite told her the whole story yet of… dying and coming back to life. That's a conversation better suited to in person.

Luckily, she knew I wasn't trying to be deceiving any longer. I called her this morning, trying to coax her one last time into coming to the funeral.

"I wasn't invited," she had reminded me, multiple times. "It's not like a wedding, you can't just plus-one to a funeral. Those are reserved only for people who knew him."

"I'll sneak you in."

"I'm not going to crash a funeral for Captain America," MJ had said sternly. "You know I'd… totally be into that for literally anyone else. Just to mess with people. But not Captain America."

"Okay… okay. I get that. I just wish you could be here."

"I have a test at the same time, too," she had said, her voice strained. School was really kicking her ass. "It's a, um, it's a big one. If I fail this…"

"You're not going to fail," I told her, over and over. "I'll call you after."

"Promise, Peter Parker?"

"Promise."

"So," Aunt May says amiably. "How do you feel about Peter working with you in your science labs?"

I snap back to the present. Oh my god. They are not going to talk about me while I'm standing right here.

"He's probably going to be the best arachnid there," Mr. Stark says, the joke half-heartedly weak.

"Ha," I bark shortly.

"Hm, don't let Natasha hear you say that," Ms. Potts teases. She gives Aunt May a warm smile that seems to say sorry about the boys.

Natasha has her back to us, listening in on something that Rhodes is saying. She looks at us over her shoulder, hearing her name. Dr. Banner gives her a sad smile, and she smiles at him back, before returning to her conversation with Rhodes.

Crazy, those two really are a thing. I never would have thought about it, but, it kinda works. They seem to really like each other.

I wonder if people will say that when they meet MJ. That we kinda work, and seem to really like each other. If anything, maybe they'll say I clearly love her, and she only tolerates me.

"They won't shut up about Peter," Ms. Potts continues. "What was it? Best intern you ever had?"

"Oh really," Aunt May gives me a shit-eating grin.

"Geeze," I whisper. "This is embarrassing… please… "

"He's my favorite, that's for sure." Dr. Banner interjects, a little too loudly.

"How many have you had?" I ask confusedly.

"How many shots he took before we got here?" Tony Stark mumbles behind me, quickly cut short because Ms. Potts elbows him.

"Interns," I add quickly. "Not shots."

"Only… well, technically, you'll be intern number two. But that's not the point."

"So why am I your favorite?" I ask shyly.

"Well, you actually read my paper on gamma radiation effects," Dr. Banner says. "I don't suppose you'd like to try it in practice sometime."

"I… I did, once, for school." I say hesitantly, and before I know it, I'm starting to gush. "I was thinking maybe even trying it again, but testing it on vibranium infected with bacteria. Uh. Uh, a safe bacteria. To… uh… see if we could make a metal alloy responsive to specific DNA. Like how some germs are more responsive to certain… people. It's uh. Not really put together, in my head."

Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner glance at each other.

Aunt May blinks. "I know I'm raising a genius but sometimes you just leave me way, way behind. I'm getting a water. Anyone want any water? Pepper? Awkward geniuses?"

We all shake our heads.

"I think I'll join you," Pepper catches a weird look from Tony, and motions Aunt May to follow her. "Tap is over here."

"Did I say something wrong?" I ask confusedly.

"No more decapitated Nat," Mr. Stark smirks. Dr. Banner snorts.

"Huh?" I ask.

"Not what it sounds like." Mr. Stark says quickly.

"Sorry," Dr. Banner adds, "It sounds… uh… insensitive, but…"

"It's just a phrase we've used for how dangerous Cap's shield is when it works…" Mr. Stark swallows back present-tense. "Worked… like a returning boomerang. It doesn't answer to anyone else, but maybe Cap wants someone to catch it… shit." Mr. Stark shivers, like someone just told him a gross story. "Hell, I'm never going to get used to this."

Dr. Banner's brows furrow. It's hard for him too.

Mr. Stark straightens his shoulders and tries again. "If we want to replicate a tool like Steve's shield, we don't want to revisit the same problems - which was - Steve couldn't throw it to another person. They wouldn't be able to catch it - it would do something perfectly awful, instead, like, decapitate them."

"Oh," I say softly. "I get it now. Gotcha."

"You may be the key to finding out way through a problem we've been working on for some time," Dr. Banner says. "Responsive metals, like the Captain's shield but… more versatile." He gives me a short glance, and then smiles again. "And all because you complimented my thesis work. Smart."

"Ergo favorite," Mr. Stark says.

"Thanks," I say calmly. Usually compliments from them - my heroes, no less - would make me blush and die (again) and crawl underneath the nearest rug. But I have to stop thinking about them like people I idolize and more like people that I'm going to work with. People that I'll need to earn respect from in the science world, not just in the superhero world.

I pause when I see Deadpool take a painfully obvious shot of some amber liquid from a flask, and then he turns and ducks around a long, gray curtain partially shrouding the entrance to one of the many balconies of this building. He looks like he's ready to jump off said balcony and do some damage. Either to himself or other people.

"Can you excuse me for a second?" I ask politely. "Sorry, I'll be right back."

Vanessa is standing close to where Deadpool was, holding a small handbag in her hands and watching the room with a sort of sad, casual observance.

"Hi Peter," she says kindly when she sees me approaching.

"Hi," I say. "Um. I was wondering. Where…"

"Where Wade went?" she jerks her thumb over her shoulder at the curtains. "Through there. He might not be there."

"It's not exactly an… exit," I say slowly.

"Wade can make an exit out of anything," Vanessa answers. "Although I did make him promise a long time ago he would never use his temporary suicides as a way to cope with bad days - only for dire situations with enemies at hand."

"Does he just want to be left alone?" I ask politely.

"I'm sure he does," Vanessa replies. "But I think he should make an exception for you."

"I don't want to bother him…"

"No, please," Vanessa smiles. "Bother him. I give you permission."

"If you're sure…"

"Listen, Peter," Vanessa grows serious for a moment. "He does feel responsible for Steve's death. And for every moment you were in danger doing - well, whatever it was that he and the Captain were asking you to do. It might do him some good to remind him that you're still around." She smiles again and inclines her head. "You're one of the good ones, Peter Parker. And God knows that Wade needs people like you around to balance him out."


Best Medicine - Wade Wilson


...

I manage to hide on a balcony for my private moment of unrestrained, manly grief for only a hot three seconds, when I am interrupted by Peter.

I pause in mid-sob, swallowing it quickly, and looking up at the sky. "Let me get back to you on that, Cap," I say obnoxiously. "I'll give you the prepared speech of how life isn't fair and everything."

"I'm sorry," Peter says, subdued. "Vanessa said that I should probably interrupt you."

"Let me tell you a little joke," I say, snuffling way too loudly and wiping my nose on the back of my hand, looking awkwardly away from Peter as he leans over the balcony railing beside me. "It goes KNOCK KNOCK - oh wait. You don't get that. There's the joke. You're interrupting my raw, Oscar-snubbed sadness. I'm about to start singing something hopeful from a musical any minute now."

Peter gives me a look, reaches behind us, and knocks on the wall beside the patio door briefly. "Look, there, I knocked," he says shortly.

"That was actually funny. All right, you're forgiven." I turn around and lean my sore back against the railing, ignoring the view, and crossing my arms over my chest. "So what'd you come out here for? Checking to see if I threw myself off?"

"I know you wouldn't. You promised Vanessa."

"This conversation you had with her was very informative. Did she also tell you we're trying to make a baby?"

"Um… I didn't really need to know that… but… that's cool." His eyes light up a little. "That's… that's great. Congratulations. Wow." He sobers quickly though. "Can I ask you a personal question? Like really personal?"

"Like, gynecologist level of personal? Or just general?"

"God, no. Just. I'm wondering about the cancer thing. If it seems weird to have a kid, or try to have a kid, knowing you might… you know."

"You really do keep forgetting my super powers protect me from dying."

"No, I remembered that, but…" Peter pauses.

I make a Chandler waiting for Joey to get the joke look.

"Oh," Peter exclaims.

"There it is!" I respond gleefully.

"I kept thinking it just repairs your injuries," Peter smacks his forehead. "I wasn't thinking about the part where it keeps you from death of any kind. Including disease. I forget that the same stuff you had is what saved me, too."

"I'm still shocked you know about that… well, maybe shocked isn't the right word - maybe fucking irritated that Stark even mentioned it…"

"Not his fault. I was eavesdropping." Peter holds out his hands guiltily, a sheepish smile on his face. "Spider on the wall?"

"Finally," I sigh. "It's about fucking time you got to do something Spider-Manny."

"I'm not supposed to know that Black Widow saved my life," he says quietly. "I wish there was a way I could thank her without giving it away that I know. I almost said something, at the funeral, but she was really wanting to talk to Bucky. So. I guess it's better I just keep pretending. Right?"

Spider-Manny... Or Spider-Nanny. I can just see it now. An alternative universe in which there is a super nanny television show where Spider-Man has to nanny three demon children…it would be a hit. I've got to pitch this to Sony.

"Have you ever had issues with the cancer-thing, even with super-powers?" Peter asks, misinterpreting my silence.

"Is that a polite way of asking if I have post traumatic stress disorder because now that you have it, you're gracefully trying to figure out if you're alone in this or if the rest of us feel sorta fucked up too?"

"Uhh…"

"Short answer? Yes. We all have a little PTSD. Post traumatic Steve's Death is just the latest edition. We've upgraded."

Peter rests his chin in his hand, looking out over the city. The late afternoon light is swiftly turning dark gold and white out west.

"Why do you think I use humor to deflect human relationship and the pain that goes with it?" I ask slowly.

Peter gives me a startled look. "I… I don't know."

"Ever heard of Peter Sellers? The Pink Panther?"

"I thought Steve Martin was the Pink Panther."

I make a horrified gasp in my throat, and pretend to gag. "Jesus Christ we need to educate you. NO. Steve Martin was a REMAKE. And not a good one, may his silver-white hair someday grace me with it's presence. I'm talking Peter Sellers. One of the greatest."

"I don't know."

"During a Muppets bit he told - wait, you know what those are, don't you?"

Peter gives me a dazed look. "I know who the Muppets are. Where is this going exactly?"

"Peter Sellers told Kermit he couldn't do an interview as himself because; and I quote; there's never been a Me. I've had myself surgically removed."

Peter grimaces.

"That's precisely what Kermit did. Anywho. The point being - maybe there was no point, and I just really wanted to tell you that story."

"I'm sure somewhere you had a point," Peter sighs. "Maybe you just lost it on the way. Try retracing your steps."

"All right, smart ass." I pop my knuckles. "We're super heroes, right? We've done a lot of shit. Got a lot of shit done to us. Waded through it. Made emojis out of it. Everyone's got a Thing. I think Wanda is a little more than clinically depressed. Stark drinks too much. Steve used to draw, like, weird architecture and cartoons. Loved them, but, let's face it. He's no DiCaprio."

"I think you mean Da Vinci."

"Everyone has a schtick, Petey. I learned something from the great Peter Sellers. He made his life one big fucking impersonation and comedy routine that he literally lost his identity."

"That's really sad."

"I mean, yeah, sure, if you look at it that way. I decided a long time ago that I can accomplish half of that, I'd be happy."

"Lose yourself?" Peter asks, bewildered.

"No, no, not myself, there's nothing else like me, I'd rather keep myself close by, thanks," I say quickly. "Naw, I mean, when I got cancer, I figured out how I was going to manage my shit. Surgically. I cut the bad stuff out and keep the funny bits."

"Oh. I see."

"Everyone has their own pain management skills and I realized a long fucking time ago that I'd rather spend my short time on this earth laughing my ass off or making other people do it than anything else. People will say it's unhealthy to not deal with your shit head on but I say it's a little more than that. If you can get rid of toxic relationships in your life, that goes for mental topics too. If you don't want something shitty in your life, don't let it in your life. It's that simple. Change the subject. Leave a room. Give it an ultimatum. Do whatever it takes."

I slap his shoulder. "Get it, Petey? Get those surgical tools out, because the shit show is coming. I realize I've thrown a lot of metaphors at you for this speech. You've kept up really well. And what did we learn, class?"

"Don't be overwhelmed by the bad stuff in life and let PTSD rule over it? Find a way to be proactive and happy against all odds?" Peter asks, hopefully.

"I mean, sure, or go to a bar and stay there for so long that you just pee right where you're sitting at the bar when you're thirty-four cocktails in."

"I don't think I'd survive that."

"That's the point," I say darkly, shaking his shoulder a little. "I nearly didn't. It took a bit of an intervention. Get it?"

"I do."

"Cool. Well," I shrug back and wipe my hands together like a pleased chef. "Maybe I don't suck at this after all."

"You're going to be a great dad someday," Peter replies.

I open my mouth to respond, but shut it again.

"Well, fuck you," I respond loudly. "Here come the waterworks." I turn quickly away so I can jab a hand into my eye and prevent the escaping saltwater from the sadness factory.

"You're welcome," Peter mutters behind me, with a smile on his face.

...


Great Power - Peter Parker


...

"What did I tell you about stealing my intern?" Tony Stark steps onto the balcony, holding the door open slightly behind him. "No more secret crime solving. Only science from now on."

"Yeah, well, science boy, explain this shit," Deadpool points at the tears running down his face. "My orifices have sprung oil leaks."

"Huh, Deadpool crying. That's a first." Mr. Stark looks genuinely surprised, and doesn't push him for reasons. "Your aunt is looking for you," he says to me. "She looks like she's ready to call it a night."

"I'll meet her downstairs I guess," I respond, with a hesitant look at Wade. "I guess we can always resume our moving conversation about Muppets tomorrow."

Mr. Stark looks totally lost, but slightly delighted that I'm making jokes.

"Before you go," Wade says, with a look at Mr. Stark. "Should we do the thing?"

"What thing?"

"The dance routine."

"Oh, right, that thing," Mr. Stark ducks back into the room, pulls something small and white from the closest table where Vanessa was standing. He pops back through the door, chucking a white box at me.

My reflexes and Spider-sense instinctively catch the box from sailing over the balcony railing as fast as a lizard tongue, darting out in a blur and holding the box to my chest. "What's this?" I ask. "Is this for me?"

"It's a red rider BB gun, Ralphie," Wade drones. "Just fucking open it!"

I confusedly open the box, flipping the lid up and looking inside.

It's my web shooters.

Not just any old web shooters - they are my originals, but they've clearly been upgraded. I recognize the Stark tech, cleaning up the exposed wires I had on my old ones, including holographic read outs of the different settings, and straps for attaching them to the Spider-suit.

"Wow," I gasp. "This is… this is… wow. I don't even know what to say. This like like the coolest thing ever." I stop gushing for a moment, closing the box and holding it carefully to my stomach like a precious thing. "Um. What if… what if I'm not quite ready to be Spider-Man again?"

"No one can tell you when the right time is, if there ever is one," Mr. Stark says firmly. "That's just for you," he pats the top of the box. "You'll know when it's okay and there's no pressure otherwise."

Suddenly my phone rings loudly in my pocket, and I flinch way too hard with surprise.

"I think your jumpiness wears off, too, once you've had a little time," Mr. Stark says, looking a little concerned.

"How about some practical advice?" Wade asks.

My phone blares loudly again.

"Start by changing your damn ringtone," Wade adds. "To a sound you weren't hearing when you were working for the Vulture."

"Right, obviously, yes," I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket. "Duh. I should have done that before."

Wade and Mr. Stark share a knowing look, as if to usher each other out and give me a moment of privacy.

"Thank you," I repeat. "Thank you for my web shooters. It's… amazing. I don't even know what else to say."

"Just answer the phone," Wade replies. "Let us end our last scene on a high note, okay? I've got a girlfriend and some slow jazz I'd like to take advantage of."

Mr. Stark practically pushes him back inside, and quickly slides the door shut behind him. "See you on the other side, kid," he says fondly, just before it clicks shut.

I missed the call, so I quickly redial and watch with a childish fascination as Michelle's face pops up on my screen. I finally found an old photo of her from the decathlon days on our old school website, and saved it as her caller ID. It will have to do until she lets me take a picture of her with my phone. Maybe tomorrow.

She finally answers. "Hey," she says tiredly.

"Hey you," I say, slouching at the railing with one elbow braced, cupping my chin in my hand. "What are you doing right now?"

"Living the dream," she laughs, sarcastically.

"What's the dream, exactly?"

"Ha. Homework, what else is new. Tell me what you're up to."

"Well, I'm, um, talking to you, for one thing. So. Living the dream."

"You're such a softie. Go on."

"I'm watching the sunset."

"That's romantic."

"I mean… it would be. If you were here."

"Can I put this on my list of things I'm going to be requiring of you as my boyfriend?" she asks. "Watching a sunset from the top of Avengers Tower is going on that list."

"Let's make it priority one." I say, grinning sheepishly. "Tomorrow."

"That soon, huh? Easy. We'll make it through everything in my list."

"How long is it?!"

"That's… the only thing so far."

"We'll add a few more."

"I'm game. So. I just called to say hi really quick, make sure you were doing okay after the funeral today. Those are… not easy."

"I'm okay now. Better than I was. I'll tell you more tomorrow. I have a lot to tell you."

"Is that a promise, Peter Parker?"

"No secrets, remember? You're going to get sick of hearing about everything."

"I doubt that. But. I have to get back to my study guide. I have another big fat test tomorrow morning."

"And it's a date tomorrow night."

"Yup, tomorrow it is." I hear her smile into the phone. "I think I I love you, Peter Parker."

"I know," I reply, using a Star Wars reference. I know she gets it.

I hear a slight chuckle. "Don't you forget it."

The call ends.

I tuck my phone in my pocket. I can't wait to show her around… show her off. This crazy girl that likes someone like me. With all my insecurities and the baggage I come with. It's hard to remember that the baggage is from the work of it. The pain of pretending to be okay with all of this in front of people like the Vulture, Jackson Brice…

Someone I would never admit that I miss. I don't. Maybe I do.

The complication being that it's impossible to not miss something that I was so entirely used to. Acclimated to - even if I didn't like it.

I shake my head. I don't want to get sucked in again - those feelings are done. I'm done with them, with all of them. I've had myself surgically removed, I remember, and I fight a giggle. In his own very weird way, Wade Wilson is really… helpful.

Higher, a voice seems to tug at the back of my brain. The same sort of juvenile voice that I remember egging me on when I first got my powers, my mind's own sense of excitement - of freedom. That feeling that I was now super strong, fast, and agile - I could finally run from people bigger than me. Bullies and stuff.

Except I didn't have to outrun them at all. Now I could fight back.

So? My brain says. Fight back now.

I haven't climbed a wall - on purpose - since Andre and I left the tavern that night, introducing me to Jackson Brice. I was too paranoid about getting caught, so I didn't. I was probably out of practice when I leapt off the building to try and catch Cap... to keep Steve Rogers from falling and hitting the pavement below.

Out of practice, out of practice. My brain starts to push these words into the forefront.

I shrug my shoulders and look at the sheer wall of metal and glass above the balcony, and the small ledge several stories in the air.

"Or not," I say out loud.

Change the subject. Leave a room. Give it an ultimatum. Do whatever it takes.

"Whatever it takes," I say, putting the web shooters on my wrists, clicking them into place, testing the strap durability and flexing my hands. They feel good.

I put one hand above the door, pushing one foot off of the railing, and then putting the other hand above the other. Walking each hand over, one right after another, till I've cleared the doorway.

Out of practice, maybe they won't stick, your feet won't stick either… do my powers even work through shoes? Have you done this with shoes before? What if you slip and fall?

It doesn't work as well with shoes, but like with rock climbing, they still support some weight, but they don't stick. Not like my hands, which I'm more sure of than ever before. I clear an entire floor without barely noticing. In a blink, I'm looking through windows to labs above. A weapons lounge. A conference room. The penthouse office floor. Something fancy - maybe an apartment for Mr. Stark? I try not to observe too closely as I pass each floor. These are private. I'm just passing by.

And it's easier than I thought. I take a moment to check my surroundings - I've made it a few stories up, that much closer to the very top of the roof. The New York skyline is a blaze of fiery glory for all of a second, but I manage to look at it just as the sun drops.

Finally swallowing the bright light, the horizon is replaced by a relaxed, molten lavender color, pastel and breezy.

I keep climbing up, finally reaching the edge and hooking my elbow over, followed by swinging a leg up, and then the next. I roll off onto the roof, standing up and brushing myself off. That went really - way better than expected. First time I've climbed up a skyscraper in - who the heck knows.

I sit back on the ledge and let my legs dangle. I keep thinking about how the work I was doing… this spy mission for Captain America… how that got me here. But I keep forgetting that's also how the Vulture and the rest ended up there - metaphorically, out there - somewhere in prison and awaiting extensive criminal trials. Because of the hard work I put into this. The microprocessors were recovered. Hydra is scattered. The Vulture's entire illegal manufacturing company has been shut down - the crews arrested, even a few jobs in progress across the seaboard interrupted and taken down.

The city sleeps a little safer tonight.

I take a deep breath, feeling the cooling night air seeping into my lungs and out again. I'm here. I'm safe. So are the people that I love.

I have a tomorrow on a horizon. For once I'm not afraid of it.

I listen to the soundtrack of the city below, the music of traffic. A few horns blare. Car engines. The streets, lamps flickering on in the falling light. A few stars erupt in the lavender twilight. I hear the busy movements, the tapestry of New York bustling down a typical nightlife with her occupants… the good, and the bad. Let the rats scurry into the darkness. Let them try to hide for now.

Thwp. I press the mechanism on the shooter and watch a stream of web fly off into the sky. My heart pounds with excitement. A long-forgotten rush of adrenaline cascades through my ribs, a huge grin erupting across my face.

Hey, neighborhood.

Did you miss me?


...

THE END


...


...

Dearest Readers,

I wrote, supposedly, a great farewell speech and I thought I saved it in another document but, tis nowhere to be found. Ironically I lost my farewell speech for "Where They Go" as well. Alas. This is of course dedicated to my wonderful readers and my amazing beta QueenofCrystallopia, she's such a rockstar who fangirled over every chapter and inspired me to keep working on this. She is one of the best people I know, and if I can repay her at all for all the love and energy she spent beta'ing for me, I would. At least let's start with recommending her highly! I can't say it enough! She's awesome! Please go check out her amazing stories, especially the CMFU (Crystal's Marvel Fanfiction Universe) series, starting with Paint It Black, Silent Night, Riders in the Sky, and most recently, Hunted. And to all of you, I say, wow, I can't appreciate you enough, I just can't say it enough. I will try to say it a bit more, however, though personal review replies at the end. As usual :)

Thank you again for riding this crazy train with me.

Pip

...


Personal Review Replies

Starnight5 - You are seriously the sweetest. Thank you. I'm so sorry the aura description made you feel sickly! I had just experienced one myself for the very first time and I had to purge those nasty feelings and put it in my story! lol. Thank you for your wonderful reviews, as always. Hope to see you more soon

curry-llama - That's so sweet of you giving it a whole are too amazing and one of the best reviewers ever! Thank you SO much!

EleanorGardner - you are such a sweet heart, thank you so much for your kind reviews, they just make my day. I am so glad you enjoyed my story.

LoonyLovegood1981 - OMG thank you so much! You are so kind! Really we love this so much, Crystal and I love this stuff because of sweet, kind people like you. It makes us WANT to write more! Thank you for your support, you are wonderful.

cargumentluv - Thank you so much for your review! I am so happy you enjoyed my lil book. Thank you again and again.

Sakura-Fiction - OMG your review seriously made my life. So thoughtful how you went through each part and commenting on each thing - like, wow, that is the kindest possible way to make me feel totally loved. And I LOVE YOU TOO XD Thank you so much for your dedicating reading. Wow. I'm just so grateful.

DaWriter06 - I am so glad you enjoyed, thank you so much for reviewing! I really appreciate it!


Other Marvel Stories


In Progress:

Into Oblivion - A *new* AU story. Peter Parker's uncle left him an infinity stone, and he'll have to do whatever it takes to get it off planet and destroy it before Thanos can return. Epic, galaxy wide adventure starring many other Avengers and based on The Fellowship of the Ring.

Sakaar and Away - not posted yet, but keep an eye out for this one. Peter and Aunt May are captured by the Grandmaster, and Peter will do whatever it takes to survive Sakaar, rescue Aunt May, and get home! (Another AU)

Posting on:

The Departed - a repost of Avenge the Departed in a different Avengers category to try and reach more audiences! I just can't let this baby go yet!

The Vast Marvel - collection of Marvel one shots! I suggest adding this story to an "alert" for when I post short drabbles!

Done:

Deadpool is Pissed - humorous one shot featuring Deadpool, Peter Parker, and Korg!

Down Came the Rain Retold - a rewritten and repost of an old fic, and may I say, the far superior version. Told chronologically, scenes are added and expanded, plot holes and timelines fixed, characterization added... easier to read, track with. Plot and character growth is more obvious. Peter is kidnapped by a rogue NYPD cop and is tortured for information on the Avengers. He deals poorly with the psychological aftermath.

That One Time Peter Parker Accidentally Did Cocaine - yup, based on another crazy dream I had. One shot. Title is exactly how it sounds haha. Peter does drugs, and his totally (alive!) Dad is not happy about it - for more reasons than one. Tony Stark is even worse.

Give Me the Words - Leopold Fitz wakes out of a coma and realizes that Grant Ward took away the one thing he needs the most - his ability to communicate. Coming to grips with the damage of his brain injury. Agents of Shield, season 2 or 3, I think. Canon tags.