A/N: Anyway, so my country has gone into lockdown, which is necessary but also terrifying. I don't really want to talk about it too much because I know a lot of people have heard enough about it, so I'm just going to remind you to stay safe and promise that my update schedule will likely improve after this!
On a brighter note, yesterday (or today if you live somewhere else in the world- it's only just past two in the morning) was this story's two year anniversary! Isn't that crazy? It feels like I didn't start it that long ago, but at the same time, so many things have changed over that time. In the world, in my life, it's so crazy. I still have rough patches (some of them because of this story) but I'm so much happier than I was before. Thank you guys for your support, if you've been here for two years or for a week! It's really appreciated, I don't know where I would be without you!
Sojie204: Have just updated that story! I'm sorry updates aren't overly regular but hopefully it should become a little easier, especially now that the story is getting really exciting.
Hermione Romanoff: Adara probably does deserve a happy ending, but whether I'll give her own or not is certainly debatable. There's still plenty of emotional trauma to get through ;)
Odie.18: Whether they're real or not is something I'm keeping vague on purpose, mainly because it would be me trying to implement a certain idea about death in this story and I don't really want to do that. It does come up in this chapter, but it's not really answered and it'll stay that way. As for whether we're getting people back, I'm saying a definitive no. Tony, Natasha and Luka are dead and I feel like resurrecting them could be a bit of an iffy move.
Pvrkcrr: Happy to cause such a dichotomy of wants hee hee, you'll have to see what happens to Adara… I'm glad you're enjoying the story though, it really means a lot to me that you'd say that :) Thank you!
.mouse: Uh oh, watch your language! Just kidding, but I'm glad you're experiencing the emotional rollercoaster that I want you to go through hee hee.
Thanks to: Sojie204, Hermione Romanoff, Odie.18, Pvrkcrr, Mogor, .mouse, HUGEmarvelnerd1, PrettyRecklessLaura, livesinasong13 and oliviabradshaw2 for either leaving a review or following/favouritng on the last chapter! Over 2000 reviews? That's absolutely mindblowing, a few chapters ago I wasn't sure we would make it considering how close we are to the end, and now we've hit it!
"I've been awake for days,
so we out living life in the night
Pray to god, man I hope I don't die in the night
Lord knows and I think I know it too sometimes
Everytime and they reaching out for what's mine"
When Adara woke up the second time, the floor underneath was rock hard and cold. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to a familiar harsh, white light, only for it to be blocked by a dark object.
She reacted instantly, grabbing the barrel of the gun and swerving her head out of its firing range. Granted the gun never actually fired. She tugged the rifle out of her attacker's grip and pulled herself back to her feet, aiming the gun at her opponent who stumbled to regain their balance. He then pulled a gun out of his suit and aimed it straight back at her. A Mexican stand-off.
Her face was one of fury for a moment, before it relaxed to confusion, "Luka?"
"Obviously," he said.
She stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and rolling her eyes. She tossed the rifle to the side and spotted a set of metal stairs. She sat down, rubbing her eyes.
"You're letting your guard down around an opponent?" He asked, eyebrows raised.
"You're not my opponent," she said with a tone of resignation. "You're dead."
He seemed to consider this and put his own gun away, sitting down next to her as a thoughtful look crossed her features.
"Wait," she said, "you're dead. Does that mean… I'm dead?" She looked down at her stomach, but there was no sign she had been stabbed. She couldn't even feel pain anymore. "No… No… Don't tell me I'm dead and I have to spend eternity with you." She put her face in her hands. "I know I was shitty but no one's ever done anything to deserve this."
He observed her, sort of amused. "You're not dead. You're dying."
She removed her face from her hands and gave him a rueful look, "how reassuring."
"I wasn't trying to reassure," he said and then sighed. "It's disappointing really. I was trying to get through to you, but you still ended up with a knife inside your stomach."
She blinked, "I was actually hearing you? I wasn't losing my mind?"
"I wouldn't dismiss that either."
She stood up, confused and turned back to him.
"I don't understand," she said. "Are you just in my head? Are you actually you? Like a ghost or… In your case, a demon?"
Still looking rather amused, he shrugged. Her glare only grew more harsh.
"You're no help, you never have been," she turned back around and began pacing back and forth. "So if I'm dying, is this some kind of fever dream? When I actually die will it be darkness or more of this? Are you some kind of ghost or spirit or—"
She stilled suddenly and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as a feeling of illness crept up her sign. Realisation hit her very suddenly.
"I'm dying," she whispered and then spoke louder. "I don't want to die."
Luka sighed softly, but said nothing.
"I don't want to die," she repeated.
"I'm sorry," came another voice. It wasn't Luka's, but it came from the same place he was, on the steps.
"I can't die," she shook her head, "no… I'm seventeen, I can't die."
She looked over her shoulder. Now it was Natasha who sat on the steps, watching her without amusement, but sorrow glittering in her eyes. Adara was stiff-legged as she walked back over to her and sat down. She felt a comforting arm wrap around her as she leant on the redhead's shoulder.
"I don't want to die," she said.
"I know," murmured Natasha, who was running her fingers through Adara's hair. "I know, but there's nothing you can do now. You were hurt too badly."
"I did everything right," she said, "it's not fair. O'Leary should've stayed down. I beat him— I— I should've killed him… Is that wrong? I wish I had killed him so I could've lived."
"It's not wrong, Adara. It is unfair. You're far too young."
"I haven't even lived," she said, voice dry, "I've spent most of my life in a Hydra facility. My life only ever got good when I turned thirteen and even then…" She looked up at Natasha. "I just want to live my way. I want to be happy but I've spent most of my life being haunted by things that happened in my past. And now what? I just die?"
"There's nothing more you can do," said Natasha. "I'll be with you."
"I'll be leaving Steve behind," she said. "That would be it… Our whole family is gone. And Harry, Harry's going to lose his dad soon anyway, maybe he's already gone. I don't know… And Peter. Oh, God, Pete."
"There's nothing more you can do," Natasha repeated. "I can't do anything."
Adara felt like sobbing.
"I can't die," she whispered, "I won't die."
And she said it with enough certainty, that the world melted away again.
Harry tucked his hands into his suit trouser pockets as he watched the last car away from the church. He was leaning against the stairs leading up to the door. His uncle and a few other members of the board were still inside, but he didn't want to stay with them as they discussed what his father would've wanted over his coffin. It felt disingenuous.
"Are you okay?" Asked Peter.
Harry had asked Peter to come with him and the boy had, no questions asked. Harry got the distinct feeling he felt guilty, but he didn't blame him. If anything, he continued to blame himself. Still, he was glad he was here. Neither of them had gone back to school yet, Peter's reasons were more understandable, and Harry's supposed his was too. Neither of them could bring themselves to go back yet.
MJ and Ned were there. Harry could only imagine the kinds of questions they were dealing with.
"I'm fine," he said with a shrug. "It's just been a long day."
"I didn't recognise many people at the funeral."
"Me neither," he confessed, "I knew most of them were old partners… Scientists and stuff. But my Dad knew a lot of people," he shrugged again.
Peter glanced around the graveyard that stretched out around the Church and its grounds, "was your mother buried here as well?"
Harry nodded, "come on, I'll show you."
It was a fairly new graveyard, the stones were new, shiny, maintained. Harry knew that these grounds were expensive, only the richest could afford to be buried here, especially right in the heart of the City where space was tight already. The scent of freshly cut grass hung in the air, but the ground was still wet from the rain a few days prior. The bearing, dry heat of Summer had not returned after the storm, instead the sky had been cloudy and the air sticky, humid. It had been like that a few days before. Harry hoped that didn't mean another bout of rain was on its way, he wasn't sure how much more of that he could take.
He stopped in front of a white gravestone, shiny, well-kempt. The flowers placed there were fresh, Harry had put some there the other day.
Emily Lyman Osborn
1975—2001
A loving mother and caring wife
Harry heard Peter swallow. His mother had died young, he supposed Peter was worried that Adara would die younger. Next to the gravestone was a wooden cross, a temporary placeholder until his father's actual burial, which would be in a few weeks' time. The thought of him having to stand here and watch his parent lowered into the ground for the second time made him feel sick. Then again, he couldn't remember his mother's funeral or burial at all.
He hoped he wouldn't have to experience this a third time, for a friend. He held onto the slither of hope that Adara would live when it felt like everyone one else around him had given up. Even Peter was just waiting for her to pass. Harry couldn't blame but, all the same, Adara always lived. That was just who she was.
Right? The doubt that lingered in his mind was constant. But at least the hope was still there. Someone had to hold on for Adara's sake.
"So your Uncle's looking after you?" Asked Peter.
Harry nodded, "yeah, but not for long. I'm nearly eighteen. He's a bit like my father, though more friendly. He used to travel a lot and bring me back these crazy things he found in other countries. He's alright, his main focus is the company, especially with all the board members hounding on him."
"What will you do?"
"Go to college, get a degree, work at Oscorp. And, maybe when I feel like the time is right, I can take over the ownership and become CEO."
"Is that what you want to do?"
Harry felt a brief flash of annoyance at the boy, how was he supposed to know? But it was just a question.
"It's what I want to do now," said Harry. "Maybe that'll change in the future, I don't know. But I've always expected to take over the company. It's better now that I can do it my way rather than my father's way."
Peter nodded, "fair enough."
"I'm going back to school tomorrow," said Harry. "I can't put it off any longer." He glanced at him, "what about you?"
"I— I don't know if I can," he confessed. "It'll be too much. It's still too much."
Harry realised that maybe extending him an invite to the funeral might've been too much, whether Peter blamed himself or not didn't really matter. Peter was too panicked, and lacked the certainty Harry felt about Adara's survival, taking him to an event that was literally about death probably wasn't the best. Sure, he could've turned down the invite but Peter was far too polite and too good of a friend to do such a thing.
"What about Spiderman?"
"I've been going out," he said, "but not doing much. Keeping it to small crime. I help people and some of them apologise, some of them tell me they knew Beck was lying all along, some of them ask about the Bluebell some of them tell me I'm too young, some of them ask me if I really am Peter Parker. But I'm still Spiderman. Identity revealed or not, I can still be who I am. I can still do something."
"Like revenge?" When he got no response, Harry raised an eyebrow. "You were going through my files earlier, Peter, I'm not stupid."
"It's a loss cause anyway," his shoulders sagged, "I'll never be able to find the Faceless Man. He could've been in that Church and we wouldn't have noticed."
"But you still want revenge."
"I want to make him pay, Harry, for what he's done. For what he's doing. He's evil, he's cruel. He had lost, but he still did what he did. It's unfair."
Harry blinked, not quite understanding. O'Leary did what he did because he was evil and cruel, he had never played by any rules before, why would he start doing so in his most dire moment? Sure, he had technically lost, but he still had his riches, his abilities and a limitless underground organisation at his fingers. This was one battle he had failed in, but he had never needed the Green Goblin or Beck. He was a businessman, he took advantage of opportunities when they presented themselves. If those business ventures failed? Too bad, but he could recover and move onto the next one.
Sure, Harry didn't like it, but he understood O'Leary's mindset. His father probably would've done the same. Except with less murder (or perhaps more? Harry wasn't sure how well he knew his father anymore, and there was certainly no time left to get to know him).
Instead of telling any of this to a riled up Peter, he just said.
"Adara can find the Faceless man," he said, "when she wakes up."
"She won't wake up, Harry."
Harry looked at the floor.
"I appreciate your optimism," he said, "but you didn't see her." That was what MJ had said. "She was hurt… Really badly hurt… She's barely alive as it is."
"Adara's always survived in the past," he insisted, "she was in a coma for three months, a building was dropped on top of her, she's been stabbed and shot about a hundred times."
"And none of them were like this," Peter's glare was vicious and agonised. "You don't understand, Harry."
"No, Peter, you don't understand. You can't just give up on her."
"I can't help it," he said through gritted teeth. Harry saw tears in the corners of his eyes. "Okay? I can't help it. At least if she dies, she won't be in pain anymore!" His clenched fists were shaking, "I have to go, I told Aunt May I'd help her with something."
"Peter—" Harry tried to call after him.
"Forget it," he said and then paused, "I'm sorry for your loss."
And continued walking.
Harry couldn't help himself when he still called after him, "she'll live. I know she will."
Even when he saw Peter shake his head in frustration, continuing to walk away from the Church, Harry couldn't help but feel relieved. He still had hope. He just wished it was enough for the rest of them to share.
When the world reformed, it did so with a sharp sting of pain in her stomach. Adara let out a gasp, feeling like she might collapse, but she was already sitting down. When she looked down, there was no injury on her stomach, her clothes were unpunctured, just the pain that there was one. Stabbed twice in the stomach. The best way to make your opponent suffer.
The sky was orange, reflected in the water that pooled around her. It was far too bright, and she squinted. Where did the light even come from? Where even was this place? She knew it existed within the Soul Stone, and also within her mind. But why?
Those were the only questions her mind was formed as her pain dragged her away from anything logical, and she gritted her teeth and pulled her legs tightly to her chest, like that might stop it.
"I told you to sleep," said the Soul Stone who was suddenly beside her.
It was still resembling the form of Luka, but was nothing like the real one (if he had been real) that had appeared in her dream earlier. This was someone, something completely different, inhuman. She could tell that from its glowing amber eyes.
"You want—" She winced but forced out the words, "you want me to die."
It tilted its head to the side, "I do not want. But understand that your pain is unpleasant to you, and that it would be easier if it stopped."
She laughed, but it hurt her even more and she took a moment to recover before she could gasp out her next question.
"In my dreams," she said, "I didn't— didn't feel the pain."
"It is easier to die in dreams."
"So this isn't a dream?"
"I already said it wasn't."
It looked to the sky, as if there was something there. Adara remembered its telling, what she had dreamed not so many nights ago. It had told her that it sensed death, her death. She hadn't taken it seriously, just as a warning to be cautious. And she hadn't been cautious, had she? She had been too caught up in her own victory. Was this her fault?
She grunted as she tried to force herself upright, this drew the Soul Stone's attention, but it did not move to help her as she attempted to get to her feet. It failed, instead she was on her knees, but it was good enough.
"There has to be a way," she said, "I can't die. Not now, not here, not like this."
"Everything dies."
"You're not dead!"
"I am."
"No, you're not," she said, "you're here, speaking to me."
"Who says that isn't what death is?"
If she could scream at it, she would, but she didn't have this strength. She didn't care for the rock's musings on life and death.
"You are here, speaking to me in my mind," the words came out slow but the Stone had infinite patience and time. "You were able to sense my death. You carry life and death in your hands. For God's sake, you must have some semblance of power. Help me."
"Why?"
Adara gave it a despairing look and no answer. Why should it help her? It was a rock, a Stone. Sure, it was one of the most powerful objects in the Universe, but it was dead already, and it clearly didn't seem to mind. It didn't have to help her, she was probably just another soul passing through, another being on top of the countless it had seen before. It stared down at her with amber eyes that carried no emotion, no expression, no sign of life. It knew everything, yet it wasn't arrogant. It was dead, yet it wasn't sad.
It couldn't even begin to understand that she didn't want to die. Because it didn't know what want was.
"Do you want?" She asked.
"No."
"Surely, there must be something. There has to be. You exist there has to be something."
"There is nothing for me but here and you and the other person, who is here. There is nothing for you but death, the only thing that keeps you from falling is human technology which sustains your physical body. But you, your soul, walks the balance between two worlds. This is the balance."
"Can I not just tip to the side of life."
"This is not a tightrope. This is a stop in the road on your way to death. You may be alive but you continue dying until you are dead. Everyone walks this road, you are just closer to the end than others."
"I'm closer to the end than I should be," she said and then closed her eyes, feeling the pain for a few more seconds. "This isn't a dream, this is you, you have to have some control over this road…" She breathed heavily, "can we just do a U-Turn?"
"Why?"
"For God's sake, I don't know! I left my keys at home or some shit like that! There are things I don't want to leave behind. You don't understand want, but you understand need, don't you?"
It paused and then nodded.
"Then have at this," she attempted to get to her feet, managing it for just long enough to spit out her words to it. "I don't want to live. I need to live."
It blinked, she could no longer stand and fell back into a crouched position. The water rippled endlessly around her, the sky continued to burn into her retinas. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees, the pain didn't lessen, it never would.
"There is someone else here."
"Yeah," she muttered quietly, not looking up, "we've gotten past that bit."
"There is someone else here," it said and she could feel its blazing orange eyes boring into her. "You are… Right. There may be something I can do. There are two things."
She looked up at it, eyes wide. She did not try to stand again, but she felt a new kind of strength flow through her. It seemed to recognise itself and sit down in front of her so they were eye level.
"What are the two things?" She breathed, her voice wheezy.
"Either I can let you die in peace," it said, "you will be surrounded by friends and slip away into whatever comes after. Whether that be nothing or another life. There are things beyond my understanding, despite my power over souls. I don't know how the road ends, I only know the road."
"Yeah, we can stop the philosophical metaphors about the highway," she said, "what else can you do?"
It paused and then said, "I can bring you to life. It would mean your wound would heal, not completely, but enough that it will no longer bring you to death. You would live until you reach the end of the road once again, and that time there will be no returns…" It tested the word she had taught it, "no 'U-Turns.'"
She thought she might cry from happiness, "how? How can you bring me to life?"
"I am the Soul stone," it said, "there is always a price."
She stopped and blinked, "a soul for a soul."
It nodded.
She took a moment to comprehend what that could mean. When it came to Vormir, the phrase 'a Soul for a Soul' meant sacrificing someone you loved in order to achieve the Soul Stone. Thanos had done it, and then Natasha had done it to herself. Would she have to do that? Would bringing herself back to life kill Peter? Steve? Harry? The thought of it made her feel sick.
Or would it just be someone random? They were not on Vormir, and the Soul Stone could not understand feelings. Would it select someone on Earth and randomly pluck them into death before there time, simply so she could live? That thought made her feel worse. Would she simply be killing someone innocent? Someone with so much life ahead of them? Someone with as many family and friends as she had, had probably less of a body count. Was her want— no— need to live a selfish one?
"No," she shook her head, "no, that's wrong."
It tilted its head to the side, "you have made this choice before. When people have tried to kill you, you have killed them. This is the same thing."
"I shoot my victims," she said, "I see their faces as I bury my knives into them. I remember their eyes, their expressions. It's a burden I have accepted and carried. This is something different. This is selfish… This is… This is killing someone random so I can live. That's playing God. I am not God."
The Soul Stone's eyes bored into her, "you are not killing someone random. There is someone else here."
She sucked in a breath, "you only have control over two lives."
It nodded.
"Mine and O'Leary's."
Her pain suddenly came back, whatever adrenaline had been pulsing through her had slowed and she let out a loud wince and fell backwards. With her wobbly arms, she pushed herself to her knees, the water lapping around her body, and wrapped her arm around her uninjured but painful stomach.
"If you die," the Soul Stone said simply, "O'Leary will live. If O'Leary dies, you will live. It is as simple as that." It then looked at her. "But that is still selfish, yes? This is playing God."
She nodded, unable to say the words herself.
"But, in your dream earlier, you said to the woman that you would've killed O'Leary in order to live. Has that changed?"
"Yes," she hissed, "because I met kill O'Leary where I can see him. This is something different. I'm sitting here, plotting how to kill him from afar."
"To save yourself."
"It's different."
"I don't see the difference."
"That's because you're not human."
She worried she offended it for a moment. But, obviously she didn't. She had simply stated a fact to it, even though it couldn't feel emotions it was probably relieved that it wasn't humans.
"You said you needed to live," it said, "this is you fulfilling your need."
"It's selfish," the pain made her feel drowsy.
"All needs are selfish," it shook its head and said to her. "Sleep now, you need the pain to subside. When you awake, you will tell me your decision. I have all the time in the Universe. You, however, don't have any time at all."
Before she could question that, her eyes had already closed and the pain stopped once again.
Bucky had been reading a book beside Adara's bed in mid-afternoon, when the heart monitor's beat had suddenly become irregular for a few seconds.
He had shot up instantly and noted the way the girl shifted, like she was stirring. He was at a loss for words and said.
"Steve!"
The man stirred from his sleep and squinted, "what is it?"
The girl stopped moving, back to her peaceful sleep. The heart rate monitor had gone back to normal. That was strange, had he just imagined the whole thing?
He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, "nothing… It's nothing. I just thought… But it's nothing."
Steve didn't think much of it and was quickly back to sleep. Bucky stared at the girl for a few seconds, it was hard to make out her expression beneath the oxygen mask and the tubes, but he could swear she looked worse than she did before.
A/N: You know the Soul Stone is like the riddler as in it doesn't make sense, luv. A lot of chat about 'wants' and 'needs' and meanwhile I'm wondering if the police can come for me if I go to the shops to buy like a packet of digestives. Sure, they're not essential but… It's important to me… Anyway, stay safe my dudes! It's a weird time, and things are only gonna keep getting weird. I hope some incorrect quotes will keep you guys going :)
Steve, reading an article: Jellyfish have survived 600,000 years without brains.
Natasha: A ray of hope for Adara.
And another one
Peter: All my shirts are disappearing?
Adara, wearing a shirt that's way too big on her: Wow, strange. There's been a lot of crimes committed recently. A pity. Truly
Have been ill all day (no, not THAT ill) but I'm feeling better now. So there's no reason to keep putting off my school work.
Harry: [Gets hit by a car]
Passerby: ARE YOU OKAY?
Harry: Please… I need… my phone…
Harry: *Texting Adara*
Harry, typing: LFMAAAAAAAO BITCHHH GUESS WHAT!
Okay one more and then I'm going to sleep
Peter: Just so you know, if you go to prison, Adara, I will not wait for you.
Adara: You won't have to. I'll escape. We both know that.
Stay safe and healthy guys! Wash your hands!
