A/N: HAPPY -BER MONTHS! *obnoxiously plays Jose Mari Chan songs*

Thank you so much, guys! You have no idea how much your words mean to me. I cried, y'all know haha. (Kinda pathetic, but eh. I love you all so much). I really loved reading your thoughts and inferences, both for the story and my own well-being. I can't confirm nor deny anything, but I'll be sure to give a heads up to anything major. BUT it's safer to assume I'll follow the canon events at the start.

So! Welcome to Arc 3 where the slow-er burn is. Fair warning, writing action isn't my forte.

ARC 3: CHAPTER 13
Aiakos

-0-

Time is such an abstract concept.

An entire minute could feel just as slow as an entire week. A month could feel like mere days passing. A year could pass with a blink of an eye.

(Decades could be spent too engulfed in-)

The thing is, Harley and time had a peculiar relationship.

He liked to think he experienced it like anyone else. It comes and goes, fast and slow, an impediment and something just there. Being reborn, being someone who had gone through multiple lives, didn't change that.

He felt that it should. That the passage of time should have been something he didn't concern himself with.

(But he cares. He feels every second, lives every blink right to the next, hears every beat of his heart, breathes air and water and ice in every conscious moment. Because he needed to know what's real and what's-)

'A few days.'

It passed in simultaneous ease and hardship. Equally agonizingly slow and much too fast.

A few days was spent dazedly packing everything associated with Harley Keener into neat little rows of boxes that are shoved into an expanded bag, like a lifetime fit into an underwhelmingly ragged backpack that has seen half the years Harley has lived.

A few days was spent wrapping his hands around things he didn't want to see, carefully placing them right at the bottom like the memories and emotions he hadn't dealt with just yet. Projects were put into stasis and stashed in pockets of space created by Magic.

A few days was spent with nothing but the lonely realization that there was no one he needed to say goodbye to.

Harley recalls having friends, feeling that sense of camaraderie and companionship and understanding. He remembers Ron and Hermione, remembers the rough start of their relationship, remembers the hard turns and steep declines of jealousy and anger and love despite that he cannot describe what they look like.

(Remembers a desperate little boy who needed something other than the cupboard under the stairs.)

Moving out, apparently, was a great measure to know how much significant connections Harley Keener had left.

None.

If he didn't count Sam the ER nurse who always stopped by in his breaks, Matt the night shift guard who talks about his wife and mother, and Layla the front desk lady who always gave him snacks. Even then, they were all adults who were thoughtful and kind, not really anything else.

The teachers in the school would do their part in telling his classmates where he'd disappeared off to, so Harley didn't see the need to go there himself. He didn't have anyone he was particularly close to; not with his peers, not with anyone.

It was sad and disappointing, but not something he'd never dealt with before.

(And it was his fault, too, for putting a barrier between him and everyone else.)

And Mrs. Davis?

She never had been one for goodbyes. Not even when Harley stood beside her, gripping an envelope full of documents signed with ink like a lifeline. Not even when Harley hugged her for the first and last time in their relationship, overly careful of the tubes and wires around her.

"Thank you." Harley whispered, blurted out in admission. "I'm sorry."

She never asked for anything that had happened, didn't have to step up to take in Harley and his dying little sister, probably shouldn't have called up Tony Stark when everything's falling apart.

Mrs. Davis' eyes, red rimmed and watery as it usually is these days, crinkled.

Harley would never know if she cried or not.

-0-

A few days ended on an early morning, marked by a sleek Audi parking right at the front of the Keener house.

Harley, used to starting his day before dawn, was peeking over the front window as soon as the car's door opened. A broad-shouldered man in an unassuming business suit stepped out, frown etched on his face as he looked around. It wasn't long before the man noticed Harley.

"Hey, kid!" The man called out, eyes going back and forth from the tablet in his hand and Harley. "Is this… 'the house where I got a fair tuna sandwich and spongebob bandaids'?"

Harley blinked, lip twitching as he unlocked the front door. There wasn't any doubt who this man is associated with. "Depends. Are we talking about a pain in the ass mechanic who loves to whine?"

The man nods sagely though nothing changed from his facial expression. He started walking over to the porch, turning off the tablet and putting it in a loose grip at his side. "Mr. Stark sent me to pick you up. What's your name, kid?"

"Harley." Harley tilts his head and smiled up at the man. "You?"

"Happy." There's a scrunch on the man's face now, completely contradicting the word he just uttered. It took a bit of effort to keep the snort in. Harley figured it would be rude.

"Okay." Harley closes the front door and locks it. If the man was confused, he didn't show it, but Harley still saw the minute twitch of the man's eyebrows. He leads them to the garage door, where Harley had more or less turned the place into his living quarters in the last few months.

Everything he needed was in there.

(It's a form of escape, somehow.)

"Do you, uh, do you need any help?"

Happy looked so awkward that Harley had to hide another smile before shaking his head. "Nah, I can handle it. You can just wait here."

He doesn't stop to wait for the man's response before going inside and taking his backpack. It's big enough to not be suspicious, so there weren't any more. He grabs his potato gun (the one he and Emma made), choosing to carry it by hand. The Mark II was crammed in with his other things in the bag.

While walking around the workbench, Harley catches sight of something pink. He pauses, eyes riveted at the limited edition Dora the Explorer watch. His grip on the potato gun tightens a moment before his hands chose his next course of action for him.

Tucking the gun under an arm, Harley reaches for the pink watch and fastens it around his wrist. It's gaudy and childish and definitely stands out, but Harley liked the weight of it. The sleeve of his sweater mostly covers it anyway.

Casting a glance around the dark room, all electronics unplugged and leaving the room so utterly still, Harley sends a pulse of Magic that had no intention behind it and that did nothing. It wasn't a farewell, after all. Harley could still come back.

When he emerges and finally locks the door, Happy was standing by the car, frown deeper than when Harley left him, tapping at the tablet harder than he should be. The man looks up when Harley's steps grew louder.

"Is that all you're gonna bring?" Happy gestures his head to indicate Harley's bag.

"Yeah." Harley nods and stops before the man, tugging a strap of his bag in emphasis. "Everything's in here. Clothes and stuff."

"Your documents?" Because Harley is a kid and no one expects a kid to know what was needed no matter that Harley isn't exactly a kid despite being one. Which was a sentence that confused even him, but still, Happy didn't know that. Nobody knew that Harley wasn't normal.

(Because he wasn't, no matter what he does.)

"Yep, all here."

"Okay, good." Happy opens the back door for him and Harley obediently slides in. "Let's go."

-0-

Harley spends the trip to the airport silent and mullish, a little bit overwhelmed and confused and unsettled by what's happening. Happy is silent, too, focused on driving as he was, but Harley can still see the man's brows furrowed down into a frown through the rear view mirror.

Either he was perpetually frowny or something was bothering him.

The drive was quick, considering Happy does a good job in driving fast without violating the speed limit.

Harley admires the view of the airport, eyes roving over the structure. He'd never been to one. At least, not one on earth or on other places, really. Travelling through the other planets rarely required anything but a landing space (sometimes they don't need or use it), so it's still a novelty to see.

(He favors the memory of a gleaming red train and the sound of bustling people.)

They pull up somewhere and Happy exits the car so Harley follows him.

"Stick close to me, kid." Happy instructs with his hand on Harley's shoulder as they make their way in, not even bothering with lines and other things people have to subject themselves to. "Wouldn't want to lose you."

Harley doesn't bother to shrug off the hand, busy taking in the new environment and antsy with the crowds. He does ask, blinking at Happy and then staring at the lines of people, "Why aren't we with them?"

"We've got a private jet waiting for us." Happy lets a smirk pull at his lips this time.

"Huh," Harley says absently, finding amusement at the way Happy deflated at his underwhelming response. "Cool."

-0-

While on the plane—luxurious, of course it would be luxurious—Harley was left to his own devices. Happy was busy with his tablet, sitting beside him with a berth of space between their seats. There's a television right at the front where the news was running on mute.

Harley watches, eyes narrowed as it changed into a footage of the Hulk and a giant Iron Man armor duking it out on the streets of Johannesburg. There's a lot of destruction left in their wake and the news reel took delight in highlighting them.

"Hey, Mr. Happy," Harley casts his gaze on the frowning man. "Where's Tony?"

"Huh?" Happy looks up from his tablet and catches sight of the news. His face morphs into one of disgruntlement and concern. "Oh. Oh shit. No wonder I can't get a hold of him. Jarvis has been down, too. No one's been answering my calls either."

Harley bites his lip, fingers tapping up a rhythm on the plastic surface of his potato gun. Jarvis is down? Like, what kind of down? "So where are we going now? The Avengers seem...busy."

"Well," Happy sighed and rubbed his face. "No reason not to continue on to the tower. They'd probably be lying low for now."

Harley nods slowly, settling back down on his seat but unable to relax in the tension that built up around them.

-0-

The knot of tension only grew as their plane touched down and the frown on Happy's face never went away, deepening at times but never alleviating. Harley had actually shoved the potato gun inside his bag so he wouldn't accidentally fire it at someone.

"Hey, uh," Harley follows after the man again, navigating through the crowd with an uneasy glance around. "Is Happy really your name?"

"No." Not-Happy answers noncommittally. "It's Harold, actually. Harold Hogan."

"Harold?" Harley makes a noise at the back of his throat as a hurrying woman bumped into him. Happy catches him and doesn't let go as they exited the airport building, muttering a watch it under his breath. Harley smiles gratefully even though the contact made him a tiny bit on edge. "Why not Harry? I know a Harry. It's a good name."

"Boss called me Happy." The man responded a little bit snappily. "It stuck."

"That sucks." Harley's lip twitched, looking to find a distraction. "Was it 'Happy' because you keep on frowning? You should smile some more, Mr. Happy. No need to be Grumpy."

"I think I prefer you sulking in the backseat like before. You sound just like him," was the exasperated reply. "Just get in the car, kid."

"Aye aye, Mr. Happy." And then Harley grins, overly brilliant and wide just to needle the man a bit more.

"By the way," Happy cut in as he unlocked the doors of the car. "Welcome to New York."

-0-

In the trip from the airport, Harley fills the air with chatter, alternating between asking about New York, the Avengers, and Happy's work as the Head of Security at Stark Industries (at which point Harley comes up with the most ridiculous scenarios and Happy either confirms or denies if something like that ever happened).

Well, Happy mostly grunts through it and gives short, curt answers. It was fine. Harley can definitely talk for the two of them, he just needed someone to make indications they were listening. The chatter seems to do both of them good anyway.

At least now, Harley was able to feel the bubble of excitement that had been buried by his conflicting feelings earlier. He's still worried, of course, because there's something happening out there. Something big enough that the Avengers are in action.

When they reach the tower, Harley stares up at it with a subdued smile that dampened any hopes Happy had that Harley would react like a normal kid. Sure, the Avengers Tower was a sight to see, but it also signifies something more than wonder and awe.

It's a beacon of both negative and positive views.

And right now, Harley eyes the reporters and camera men who weren't showing a sign of subtlety with poorly hidden disdain, it seems like he's arrived at a pivotal moment.

-0-

They take the elevator up to the residential floors first.

"Hey Jarvis," Happy tries once the elevator doors closed. "Jarvis? Are you there?"

Even though this was the first time Harley ever stepped foot on the tower, the silence that followed the man's question was absolutely jarring and disconcerting. Harley had become so used to J.A.R.V.I.S.'s fast quips with anything associated with Tony that it raised his hackles.

"What happened?" Harley asked as Happy manually operated the elevator to allow them access to the floor they had to get to.

"I'm sure it's nothing," There's a hint of worry that the man was unable to suppress. "Maybe Tony put him on lockdown."

Which, especially to Harley, sounded like such a feeble excuse. He lets it lie though, as they reach the residential floors.

"Okay, so at least I know which room is yours. Drop off your things and we'll see what we can do after."

Harley raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a job? You were just telling me how you had to go back after dropping me off."

"Well I can't leave you here alone, kid." Happy quips, eyebrow raised in an I know better sort of way. "Especially with Jarvis off the grid like this."

"I'm thirteen." Harley replies with proper righteousness. "And there are people a few floors down."

Happy looked at him dubiously. "No."

Harley stares at him, thinks of how he can handle the situation. In the end, he says, "Fine."

-0-

A lunch down at the local McDonald's and a few hours later, Harley managed to cajole Happy into checking the communal upper floors. Apparently, it was where the Avengers liked to hang out in so if something was up, evidence would definitely be there. What really convinced Happy was the constant evasion from Maria Hill (Harley had seen her name before).

Happy let out a frustrated, "Alright. That's it. Let's see what they've been up to."

They make it up to the communal floors without issue.

(But it was still so silent, still so disconcerting and stifling.)

When the elevator door opens, Harley's first instinct was to cast out his Magic to assess the situation. While otherwise pristine, the cracks and dents and blank spaces where something should be in—obvious evidence of a fight—weren't quite repaired yet.

Harley maintains his rigid posture until his Magic comes back with nothing.

Wait.

No.

Not nothing.

"What happened here?" Happy muttered as he exits the elevator.

Harley, meanwhile, was not quite listening, eyes focused up.

The Mind stone was here.

Harley could still taste the trail it left in its wake..

-0-

Harley sat on a couch, idly dismantling the potato gun for the umpteenth time that day. He's staying on the floor overlooked by the laboratories and where most of the damage had been done, having let his Magic repair what could be repaired.

The elevator in the tower was absolutely flawless and soundless, but Harley still notices when someone arrives on the floor.

Without looking up from his work, Harley greets, "Hey, Mechanic."

"What the fu- kid?!" Tony sounded startled, which had been what Harley was going for. "What are you doing here?"

Finally, Harley looks up to send the man a look. "Uh, you called me here? Or do you want me to go back to Tennessee? I can go now if you like-"

"What? No!" The wide-eyed look on the man's face was a testament to how off-guard Harley had managed to catch him. "What I mean is it's dangerous here. Where's Happy? Didn't he come with you?"

Harley tilts his head, nodding slightly. "He did, but he has his work, you know. We went to lunch, drove around for a while. You've got lots of nasty drivers here upstate, by the way."

"Yes, okay, so," Tony said dismissively, managing to get his bearings and fixed Harley with a very serious look, hands fidgeting in agitation. "Here's the deal, kid. We've got a situation. Like, right now. So I need you out of here—down to your room preferably, the private quarters are plenty secure—but anywhere but here is good enough."

Harley rests his chin on his knuckles, all defiant and stubborn. "No."

"I-" Tony rears back a bit, surprised and maybe a bit insulted. "Excuse me."

"Where's Jarvis?" Harley asked instead, cut in so the man can't start a rant.

Tony actually nearly heaved but as it was, his chest rose and fell significantly, breathing stuttered, eyes clouded and shoulders tense.

"What happened?" his question was softer now, totally experienced on how to deal with Tony Stark in a variety of situations.

"He-" Tony took a deep breath and crossed his arms, his masks pulled up and skin set on the thickest, most brittle thing he can manage. When he spoke, his tone was hard, "No. We're not talking about this right now."

Another person joins them not long after the engineer's declaration, so Harley didn't get to reply.

Doctor Bruce Banner shuffles into the room, not quite entering Harley's peripheral. "Hey Tony- Oh. Uh. Who's this?"

Harley puts down his things and turns to face the other man, smile perhaps a little bit too bright and sharp. He'd been through a lot of emotional roller-coasters the past few days—weeks—so sue him. "Hello Doctor Bruce Banner. I'm Harley! It's nice to meet one of Mechanic's friends."

They both ignore Tony's spluttered, "And you call him doctor?"

"Mechanic?" The confusion and bewilderment was clear on the tired man's face.

"Tony, of course." Harley nods to emphasize his point. "He's my Mechanic. He asked me to live with him. Well, more like sprung it on me and I just had to do it."

Dr. Bruce Banner's wry smile was sympathizing. "He does that."

"I know!" Harley exaggeratedly raised his voice. "He's very pushy and impulsive."

Tony's groused, "Well, why don't both of you stop gossiping about me. Barton's here." snapped Harley's attention to the oncoming jet.

And, oh.

It's there.

Aiakos (Αἰακός) was specifically concerned with the shades of Europeans upon their arrival to the underworld. In works of art he was depicted bearing a sceptre and the keys of Hades.

Originally, I was going to stop putting chapter titles cuz it got harder to find concepts to fit to the arc 3 chapters, but someone told me they actually read it? So. I'll just work harder to find stuff that'll fit.

Also to those who stepped forward and told me about their own issues and what-have-yous or those who feel they relate to Har(ry, rhan, ley) but couldn't utter a word. I hope all of you find a reason to go through every day without slipping into that, ah, void. I,,,hated that feeling myself so I can only imagine how y'all experience it. I hope what comes after wouldn't cripple you any more than it really should. I hope that you have someone at the end of everything, someone who is a balm to that hurt. (I don't have that so haha)

See y'all when I finally finish writing chapter 17! Unfortunately I haven't started yet haha? Real life is kinda demanding my presence.