'With a vigilant heart
I'll push into the dark
And I'll learn to breathe deep
And make peace with the stars.'

"Six" ~ Sleeping At Last

"He…Help!"

An iron bar cinches around Peter's waist, which doesn't seem very helpful if he's drowning.

Peter looks down and realizes it's Clint's arm. Clint swims backwards, backstroking with his free hand towards the yacht.

"I've got you. You're alright, Pete."

Peter coughs and coughs and then coughs some more for good measure, relieved to have his head fully above water. He goes completely limp in Clint's arm, head back against Clint's shoulder. His forehead knocks the man's chin.

"Good job, champ. Just like I taught you. You're going to be okay. The storm's passing even now."

"Clint?"

"That's me. I'm right here."

The water feels warm…too warm even for the Mediterranean.

"Clint?"

"Shshsh. It's okay—"

"Where are we?"

He can feel Clint stiffen at that one. "On vacation, bud, remember?"

Peter thinks this over.

Suddenly there are huge hands under his legs and around his back and patting at his hair with stricken voices flurrying over head.

All five of the other Avengers reach down with one mind to scoop Peter out of the water and onto the yacht. He collapses on the deck and spits up what feels like the whole ocean. The hands pick up speed, patting at his back and taking his pulse.

They saw him almost drown. So much for keeping that little fact hidden.

"Oh," says Peter.

Tony is shaking. "Yeah, oh! Why didn't you tell us you couldn't swim?"

"I…uh…I…didn't want to ruin your vacation plans. Wanted to impress you."

More stricken voices.

Peter doesn't realize he's shivering enough to rival a Chihuahua until Thor swaddles him in a fleece throw and picks him up bridal style. Jane rubs a towel over Peter's hair. Peter soaks up the demigod's radiator-like warmth.

There are too many adults scolding him and asking about symptoms—does he feel short of breath?—and Pepper's crying and Clint is laughing and applauding his swimming while Steve towels him off and they're arguing about who should be driving the boat and keeping secrets about not being able to freaking swim, and Clint, how could you not tell us this? And…and…

And Peter has never felt so loved in the entirety of his life.

It's a happy jumble of noise, despite the exaggerated outrage. It's awful. It's messy. It's, well, it's Peter's new normal.

He snuggles against Thor's sweater and sleepily eyes all the faces in a circle around him.

His voice is hoarse from coughing but he musters his strength. "Love you guys. So much."

They all stop.

Natasha swats Clint upside the head and then kisses Peter's hand, reaching for her. "Love you too. I'm glad you're okay."

"You scared us!" Bruce adds, hands on his hips.

"Thank you for this chance to get away from it all."

Tony melts. "You deserve it, kid, after everything that's happened this year."

There are echoes in agreement of this sentiment. Peter shivers and smiles and thinks this is what family is supposed to feel like.

They all relax after that, relieved laughter filling the deck. Tony forces Clint to promise to never let Peter in the water without them present again…with a quiet thank you to him, of course. Clint shakes Tony's hand with a grin.

Even Bucky is at ease, which is surprising—

Wait, why is Bucky here? That's not how this day went. His memory is wrong…he didn't even meet Bucky until…until…

"Get him out of the water, Buck. Quick! He'll choke!"

Bucky doesn't look relaxed now. He's frowning, lips tight. His eyes look worried. Only three hands pull and tug this time.

"Clint?" Peter looks around but everything's fuzzy. "Clint, the water is too hot."

Why am I back in the water? Didn't Clint just get me out?

"On the floor, Steve. Here is good."

"Should I—?"

"Hold his head."

"We love you too, Peter. We wanted this vacation to be relaxing for you." Steve smiles. "I hope this hasn't made you too afraid of the water."

Steve's face is a mess of tears. "Breathe with me, Peter."

Tears?

Peter chuckles. "Not a chance. Before the wind picked up I was actually swimming!"

Clint stands to noogie his hair. "You sure were. Your front crawl is really coming along."

Peter laughs again, wincing when it turns into a cough. It's deep, chest tearing, but Peter feels made new. His face turns red for a moment.

Steve rubs his back. "Just breathe through it."

"Just breathe through it. Can you hear me, Pete? Easy, easy!"

"He's really convulsing."

"I know. Friday, call Bruce."

"Already done, Captain."

"Peter, wanna get warmed up with some hot chocolate—"

"Squeeze my hand if you can hear me—"

"Storm's passing—"

"It's getting worse—"

"Swimming—"

"Shaking—"

"Peter."

"Peter!"

Peter blinks and the two scenes shatter together so harshly that he gasps.

Suddenly, and for one crystalline moment, Peter is fully in the present. He stares up at the sliver of bathroom ceiling he can see between Bucky and Steve's heads. They're both bent over where he thrashes on the tile.

Peter tries to reach Steve's face but his hand barely cooperates, a haze of frenetic motion he can't fully control.

Tears. There shouldn't be tears, never on Steve.

"S…St…"

Steve jolts and his eyes lock onto Peter's. It's the most electric moment Peter has ever experienced. Another tear falls on Peter's cheek but he doesn't feel it. "Peter? Are you…are you actually—"

"Steve."

Peter looks to Bucky before he realizes that he said it.

Bucky darts forward, catching Peter's writhing face in his hand. Steve puts his hand on the other cheek so the two men frame Peter's face.

Bucky tries to speak, licks his lips, and has to start again. His eyes, in comparison to the frozen and shocked ones of Steve, are darting. "Peter, I'm going to say this really slowly. Can you…understand us?"

Peter wonders if he's been strapped to a rock drill, violently trembling and floundering, but he manages to blink up at Bucky.

"B…Buck?"

"Yeah, kid." Bucky laughs and now he's crying. "Good to see you."

Peter doesn't feel like he's good. He feels like he's drowning all over again, struggling, fighting to get to the surface. Every second of present time is a millennium. His body might as well belong to someone else for how little it cooperates and sends him sensory signals at weird, delayed times.

He only just now realizes Steve is squeezing his hand in a death grip.

It hurts.

Pain! He's in pain!

Peter wants to cheer, to shoot confetti from the rooftops, because he's so excited to feel something that isn't utter nothing. These receptor signals are real, not memory. He's still fighting to get air yet there's no water in his lungs.

It's all real!

But then Peter realizes…he's in pain. Agony.

It's all down Peter's back and he arches off the floor, eyes rolling back into his skull. His world again becomes a mess of shouting. Most of it's his.

His last thought is wishing this wasn't goodbye.

I'm sorry, Steve.