Here we go again! A million thanks to my amazing reviewers. You are all wonderful. One of you, xSaphirexRosesxFanx put forward some ideas, for which I say thank you very much! All ideas or thoughts are appreciated as I am always looking for inspiration. I do intend to use your excellent idea about Dr Strange at some point, but I am a complete sucker for some drama and couldn't resist making things just that little bit more difficult for Peter!
Hope you all enjoy! (Please bear in mind I am finishing this at about 1:30 am, so who even knows what my brain is doing? Be kind please)
To say the next couple of days were perfect would have been a lie. Everything Peter did, whether it was messing about in the workshop with Tony, or playing hide and seek through the house with Morgan, was overshadowed by the thought of his imminent departure, and the ramifications that he knew he would have to face at some point. He had thought about telling Tony the truth. He wanted to. Putting all of his trust in two people he barely knew was harder than he thought it would be, and the one person whose opinion on the whole escapade he would have valued above all else, was the one person Peter really, really, couldn't tell. So… the pressure was mounting. But despite the massive, potentially catastrophic secret he was carrying around, Peter was enjoying himself. And yeah, it wasn't perfect.
But it was pretty damn close.
It took him a while to get used to the silence at first. Queens was always noisy, even in the hours when Spiderman used to be busiest, the hours when any sensible person was tucked away safely in bed. They weren't that far from the city, only just over an hours drive (it made sense since Pepper and technically Tony still worked there), but the difference was incredible. When he was little, Peter had gone through a phase of watching nature documentaries. He had wanted to be an explorer, finding and photographing elusive animals in the most extreme parts of the earth. He tried once or twice peeking through his curtains at night, pretending he was in a hide, observing the native wildlife, but stopped pretty quickly when he realised there was nothing much to see besides angry drunks and headlights. Out by the lake, even Peter's enhanced ears struggled to pick up much other than the occasional hoot of an owl, or the wind through the trees. It didn't take him long to get used to it, and once he had, he found himself sleeping far more heavily than he had for a long while. And Peter appreciated his sleep as much as any other 16 year old, but the days were so worth struggling out of bed for.
Tony had decided to take a couple of days off, and he and Peter spent the majority of their time in the workshop. Peter's suit was *this* close to being finished, so mostly they worked on other projects. The really good stuff, the stuff that was going to be manufactured by Stark Industries, or sold to the government, all of that was in development at labs in the city, but Tony had a few pet projects that Peter, much to his disbelief, was allowed to help with. They quickly settled back into the easy camaraderie they had had before Thanos, and hours flew by unnoticed inside the workshop. There was some seriously cool alien tech that had been salvaged from various battles, including the latest. At the moment they were experimenting with some chemicals extracted from some sort of laser weaponry. If they could synthesise it, Tony was hoping to look into it as a renewable fuel source. Although he was pretty chilled about a lot of things, Tony was adamant that they both wore full protective gear when working with the chemicals. Some of them were pretty nasty, and between the two of them they had had more life threatening injuries than most people got in a lifetime. Peter wasn't complaining though. He'd choose this over calculus any day. But the workshop wasn't even the best part.
Peter had never been lonely growing up. He'd thought about having siblings, thought it might be nice, but he'd never felt like anything was missing. He and May were a unit, and that was the way it was supposed to be. So it took him by surprise when the part of the day he looked forward to the most was when Morgan came home from kindergarten. He knew part of it was probably the novelty for her, but as soon as she got home she would fling her shoes off in the hallway and run to find Peter, talking a mile a minute about her day. She had absolutely zero filter, and Peter could tell that when she got a bit older she would probably be spouting more zippy one-liners than her dad. She was also ecstatic to have a willing playmate in Peter.
"Don't be afraid to tell her no. She can be a tyrant at times." Snickered Tony, looking on in amusement at Peter, who was seated as the guest of honour at a tea party with some very interesting guests, including but not limited to, a stuffed hippo, an Iron Man figurine, and something Morgan had made at kindergarten that Peter was pretty sure was supposed to be the incredible hulk. But he wasn't quite sure enough to ask.
"Thats alright Mr Stark." He found himself grinning at Tony.
"I don't mind, I never had a little brother or sister before!" He realised the implications of what he had said, and felt himself blush, as he tried unsuccessfully to explain himself.
"Not that I'm saying she's my sister!" But obviously I would look out for her like a sister- all I meant was-"
He stuttered and carried on digging a hole for himself as Tony waved a hand regally in the air.
"Yeah, I know what you meant kid. And might I say, you're the belle of the ball in that tiara."
"…
…Shut up."
Peter felt beyond lucky to have the Starks let him into their lives. How he, out of everyone else more worthy, had managed to wind up like this was beyond him. And even as he lay in the guest bedroom at night, working out a plan to take advantage of these generous people and spit on everything they had tried to give him, he held on to the lingering hope that maybe, if he, Clint, and Dr Strange were successful in rescuing Nat, then maybe they wouldn't be too mad… maybe Tony would see that he really was just trying to help…maybe.
Then Wednesday came. And everything went wrong.
Maybe it was because Peter was distracted from the start. He couldn't keep his fingers still all day, and more than once he zoned out while Tony was trying to talk to him. He was sure he must have looked guilty, but Tony never questioned it. They were in the workshop, had been all day. Morgan had been disgruntled when Peter wasn't able to play for as long as usual, but they were processing some of the chemicals and it required constant supervision.
He should have known better.
It was just after five when the car alarms went off in the garage. Peter acted surprised and tried to ignore the sweating of his palms. He kept telling himself he had no other choice. Tony wouldn't let him know the access code for the workshop, for precisely this reason. Somehow, telling himself that didn't make him feel any better. It had been almost too easy to rig the alarms, but Peter wasn't a criminal, not a real one anyway, and he just prayed he had covered his tracks well enough that Tony wouldn't figure it out, at least until the next day, when it would be too late. As planned, Tony removed his gloves and goggles and went downstairs, muttering in annoyance. The door gaped behind him. As soon as he was gone, Peter sprang into action. He weaved his way through the workstations until he reached the one covered by a sheet. Luckily his suit wasn't in a display case yet or this would have been impossible to pull off. It was risky enough as it was. He pulled his suit from under the sheet and stuffed a hoodie in its place, rearranging some items to make it appear as though there was still something underneath. Once satisfied by the result, he raced from the room and leapt down the stairs as lightly as he could. He stuffed the suit into a plastic bag and lifted up the mattress, sliding it in. He took a minute to make the bed, fluffing up the duvet and analysing it from every angle. If anyone for any reason entered his room, he was fairly certain they wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Walking out onto the landing, he jumped as he heard footsteps on the stairs. Tony looked at him quizzically, and Peter froze like a deer caught in headlights.
"Pete… what are you doing?" Tony sounded really confused.
"…Um- I needed to use the bathroom?"
Now Tony looked highly apprehensive. "What did you do with the-"
He stopped short as a high pitched yelp sounded from upstairs, and his face turned gray. Then he started moved at an impossible speed, sprinting up the stairs three at a time, with Peter close behind. Peter saw the open door, before realisation hit him with all the force of a freight train. Tony was crouched in front of Morgan, who was wailing softly. Her- oh god, what had he done? Morgan's hand, parts of her neck, even- even parts of her face were a bright violent red, and already blistering horribly. The broken glass on the floor and the acrid smell in the air told the whole story, Peter's hands shook uncontrollably and his breathing came unevenly.
"Oh god, what- is she gonna be ok? What can I do? I'm so sorry! Morgan, I'm so sorry!"
He wanted to help but his legs didn't seem to be working, and he just stood there, uselessly. Tony didn't bother answering. He murmured some words of reassurance to Morgan, but Peter could hear the panic in his voice. Picking her up with incredible gentleness, Tony walked towards the door.
"Mr Stark, is she gonna be ok? I didn't- I didn't mean to- is there anything I can do?"
"Just stay back Peter! Don't do anything else."
The words were measured, probably more for Morgans benefit than anything else, but they hit home. Peter could hear the anger in Tony's voice loud and clear, and what's more, he knew he deserved it. He watched them go, heard the car leave, and it was a good while before he was able to move again.
He cleaned up the spilled chemicals, and tried to pick up the broken glass, but his hands were still trembling and he had to give up as he dropped it for the third time. He sat, leaning against the workstation, and put his head in his hand. The fumes were making him dizzy. Oh god, what had he done? Of all the stupid- Tony would never forgive him. And Morgan. What had he done to her? The horrible image of the blisters on her face just wouldn't leave him- what if it was permanent? And all because of his selfishness. And stupidity. The Starks invited him in, made him welcome, and he repaid them like this. The horror of what he had done settled on Peter like a blanket made of stone, weighing him down and cutting off his airways. He gasped for breath, sobs escaping unbidden. Peter's shoulders shook, and he felt scared. Scared, and guilty, and sad, and so, so sorry. Eventually the sobs stopped of their own accord. He picked up the broken glass, wrapped it in tissue and disposed of it. Then he went to the guest bedroom, sat on the bed, and waited. He didn't hear anything from Tony or Pepper. Was that good news, or bad? Did he even want to know? He waited for hours, and tried not to think about what Tony and Pepper must think of him now. Tried not to think about Morgan, lying in a hospital bed with chemical burns. Tried not to think of the further betrayal he was planning. Didn't succeed. Somewhere around midnight it became clear nobody would be returning home any time soon. Peter supposed that made things easier for him, anyhow. And besides, they would be glad to see the back of him, so really he was just saving them all an awkward goodbye. When he thought about it like that it felt reasonable. He would have liked to say goodbye to Morgan, but in the long run it was probably best to have a clean break. He lay on the bed and closed his eyes, but couldn't get any sleep. In fact, he felt worse when the alarm he had set rang at six. He dragged his bag out from under the mattress, and looked around the room. It was clean enough. Satisfied, he went downstairs. No point sneaking out the window when nobody was around to care. The front door locked automatically behind him. He looked around. The stars were out, and there was something remarkably still about the whole scene. Peter turned away, and walked on. There weren't any bus routes near Tony's house, remote as it was. He walked a while before reaching the main road. That was where he'd booked the cab for. The cab driver looked uneasy.
"How old are you, kid?"
"Twenty one."
Technically, it wasn't a lie. The driver seemed to accept it. It was early, and he had more important things to worry about than some runaway kid anyway. As long as he got paid, no questions would be asked. They drove away from the black stillness of the lake, towards the glaring lights of the city.
Peter got out at 177A Bleecker Street, and the cab sped away, trailing smoke behind it. Peter didn't pause to think about what he was doing. The decision was made. Maybe he would actually manage to get it right this time. He let himself in. Clint and Strange were waiting upstairs.
"Glad you could make it."
Clint stretched out a hand, and Peter shook it. If the archer noticed anything off about Peter, he hid it well. Dr Strange nodded at him. He was standing in a large circle, filled with carvings in no language Peter recognised. Also, strangely enough, what looked like someones shirt?
"Are you ready?" Asked the Doctor. Peter blinked slowly. He felt suddenly as if he was moving through thick syrup. He raised his bag hesitantly.
"Need to… put my suit on."
The Doctor nodded. "Be quick."
Peter found an empty room. He struggled into the suit. Gritting his teeth, he undid his sling and pushed his arm into the empty sleeve. It hurt like hell, but even more so when he pressed the button and the suit sealed itself around him. Shaking it off, he went back into the main room.
"I'm ready."
Clint looked concernedly at Peter's blackened right arm.
"Kid, you gonna be ok using that arm?" He looked to the doctor. "Can't you do something about that?"
Strange shook his head. "When we return, possibly. Until then, it is important he stays exactly as he is. His arm represents the sacrifice he made when using the infinity stones. If I repaired it now, it is doubtful he could access the pocket dimension, and then this would all be for nothing."
"I'll be fine, really."
"Good. Step into the circle please."
Peter and Clint did so. The doctor explained the process to them.
"In a moment I will open a portal. I have within the circle, a shirt belonging to Steve Rogers. It will connect us to him, and wherever the Mr Rogers of our timeline is, it will connect us to it. When the portal opens, Clint will step through, followed by Peter. I will go last. Wherever we end up, it is of the utmost importance that we stay under the radar. Our goal is to retrieve the soul stone, nothing else. Do you both understand?"
Clint agreed, and Peter nodded. It was strange. Theoretically, he knew that he should be terrified, but it felt like his nerves were on fire, and singing at the same time. He wasn't scared. He was excited. A moment later Strange spread his hands wide, and a shimmering orange portal sprang into existence. Clint turned to face it.
"Once more unto the breach." He murmured, and was gone a moment later. Peter didn't hesitate before hurling himself headfirst through orange sparks and time.