The first thing Peter did after checking the list of repairs was find the most important thing that he was going need: food. It didn't take him long to find the Guardians' "pantry" more or less, and he surveyed the selections...if one could call it that. He didn't recognize much of anything there, and his nostrils were collecting a plethora of interesting smells.
"Guess I can't exactly be picky right now," Peter said to himself. He went through their stock, rationing out how much he could eat for what would hopefully be only a couple of days at most. It was optimistic, but he didn't have a lot of options. With his accelerated metabolism, he needed a much larger intake of food than he once did to keep him going. Peter still tried to go with only what was necessary, deciding that sacrificing a little just in case would be the safe bet. Once he had completed this process, he decided to try out some of the selection, at the very least to get himself used to it.
Scanning around, Peter picked up a container and opened it up, peering inside. He reached inside and broke off a piece of what looked like some purple and alien version of...cornbread, maybe? Peter wasn't a huge fan of earth's version of the stuff, so that probably wasn't a good analogy.
"Bon appetite," he said, breaking off a small piece and quickly stuffing it into his mouth, his eyes shut in anticipation. To his surprise, it didn't taste bad, or at least cause him to drop on the spot. It wasn't exactly good either. It tasted... tasteless.
"Oh well," Peter thought to himself. It could be much worse; he could be like those people who had to eat bugs and stuff while stranded on deserted islands. He imagined this had to be at least better by comparison. He then took another bite of the strange substance that made him long even more for home.
Peter kept busy over the next several hours, working on various repairs required. Using some tools he found, he tackled the simple stuff first, which mostly involved some basic rewiring. It was a little more complicated than some of the computers he'd been putting back together since he was seven, but it still came to him quickly and, before he knew it, that was set. By that time however, the sky had grown dark on the planet (especially so without one of its moons), and Peter realized he'd been awake much longer than he should've been. While it was tempting to work through the night, he decided that rest would be the wiser option that would hopefully help him avoid mistakes.
Unfortunately, rest didn't come quickly for him. Even well after he first shut his eyes, Peter's thoughts were still restless, going back and forth from remembering the dusting of Mr. Stark and his other allies to wondering how May and Ned were doing back home...if they were even still there. When sleep did eventually come to him, these thoughts came to life in his mind, and Peter felt as if he were living everything that had gone wrong or could go wrong still. His loved ones cried out to him, and he would wake up from his own cries. This happened four times over the course of the night, and every time, Peter shed at least a few tears before even trying to go back to sleep.
He was grateful when the crack of sunlight came, because that meant it was time to busy himself once more. The way he figured, if he kept busy, he would be distracted from the terrifying thoughts that had plagued the night, so he had a quick bite to eat and set out to continue his work. He decided to tackle some of the more involved projects first; that way, he could finish up with some of the lighter things and start for home.
The first thing he decided to tackle was a power issue in the engine. Some power needed to be rerouted in order to get it back to full capacity, so he took apart the sections that he needed to, trying to find the most efficient way to get the power he needed without sacrificing any important functions. While using his suit to analyze the matter helped, it was still a bit of a drawn-out process, especially since he had to make do with tools that weren't the best for the particular tasks he required of them.
He was almost finished when his lack of sleep the night prior began really hitting him. He found himself starting to doze in and out, and eventually, Peter's body finally beat his will power and he went to one of the seats in the cockpit to take a quick nap. He had barely slumped into the seat when exhaustion fully took hold and the world around him disappeared.
"That's what you get, Pete."
Peter opened his eyes, surprised to hear another voice, and a familiar one at that. He turned his head and his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of none other than Adrian Toomes, sitting in the seat next to him. He said nothing in response, slowly rotating the seat so that his whole body faced the direction of the man.
"It's like I told you," Toomes continued as he leaned forward, folding his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees, "the rich and the powerful, guys like Stark...they don't care about us."
"I... I don't know what you mean," Peter stammered, still trying to figure out what was going on.
"Oh c'mon Pete," Toomes replied dismissively, as if Peter was being ridiculous. "You're too smart to actually believe that the man ever had your best interests at heart."
Peter's face was now slowly turning from one of shock to one of frustration at the man's insinuation.
"Otherwise," Toomes said, gesturing his hands out as he looked from side to side, "you wouldn't have ended up here."
"No," Peter refuted, "H-he told me to stay back, but I didn't listen. I'm the one who chose to stay on the ship."
"Ah, but think about it," Adrian said, standing up and walking towards the front of the cockpit. "Ever since you met that man, your life hasn't been the same. Sure, you were already a little stronger and faster than the rest of us, but what you saw as a responsibility, Stark saw as an opportunity. He took you, gave you some crazy technology that you didn't know how to fully control, and basically indoctrinated you into the world of the Avengers!"
"No, that's not true," Peter said, fighting a quaking in his voice. He looked down, running his right hand over his hair.
"This is what you deserve, Peter!" Toomes shouted.
"Shut up," Peter moaned, his hands covering his eyes as frustration rapidly boiled over within him.
"I tried to tell you," Toomes continued, his voice still animated, "I tried to tell you that you had to look out for number one: you. But instead, you kept trying to play hero, trying to please and impress your pal Stark, AND LOOK WHERE IT GOT YOU!"
"SHUT UP!" Peter screamed in a rage. He burst out of his seat, his fist drawn back ready to strike. Adrian Toomes was nowhere to be found though, the cockpit instead returning to its empty and lifeless state.
It had all been a dream... or a hallucination; Peter was hardly sure of anything after what just happened. Even though he could no longer see the man, Toomes's words still rang in his head.
"This is what you get."
Peter sank down to a squatted position, his hand holding on tightly to one of the seats near him as he broke down in tears once more. Toomes, or Peter's imagining of him, may have been wrong about a lot of things, especially involving Mr. Stark. However, perhaps those words weren't that far off. After all, he was the closest one to full on preventing this. If he had just gotten that gauntlet off, they would have undoubtedly had the advantage for the rest of the fight. He wouldn't be stuck on this desolate rock by himself, and the others would be...
Peter forced himself up, fighting back any more tears that threatened to come. His brain had gone down this road far too much as it was; he couldn't afford to fall apart again. May and Ned were home, waiting on him. He couldn't waste time wallowing in guilt and regret. He had to make it back to them.
He had to make it home.
Throwing himself back into his work, Peter powered through as much as he could. He rerouted the power required for the engine, tinkered with the navigation system and a few other small tasks. To keep himself going, he ate a little more than he'd initially rationed. He knew it was a risk, but the fear of another dream or whatever had happened the last time he got some rest hung at the front of his mind, driving Peter to push himself further and harder.
"Peter..."
"Woah!" Peter yelped, falling back from the panel he was working on, "who's there!?"
"Don't worry Peter, it's only me," came the voice again, one which Peter recognized upon hearing it a second time. "I was going to tell you that you really should rest. Your energy levels and brain activity indicate..."
"Karen?" Peter said.
"Yes Peter, it's me," his suit's A.I. replied.
Peter laughed, falling fully on his backside against the floor of the ship.
"Did I say something funny, Peter?" his artificial companion asked him. Peter sat up, the hilarity of the realization finally washing out of his system.
"No, I'm sorry Karen," Peter said. "It's just...it's really good to hear your voice."
All this time, Peter had been trying to push himself forward, powering through and keeping busy in order to not allow the isolation to wear on him, completely forgetting that he had the world's kindest and most reassuring A.I. ever right there with him. Sure, it wasn't the same as someone he could see and touch, but it still sounded a whole lot better than the nothingness around him right now.
"No need to apologize, Peter," Karen reassured him. "You do seem to be in a little better spirits though. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Umm, if you could just talk with me for a while, that would be nice," Peter answered somewhat meekly, like he needed to ask an A.I.'s permission for something.
"I can do that," Karen responded. "What would you like to talk about?"
For the next few hours, Peter talked with the A.I. about anything and everything he could think of that wasn't too sad or depressing. Karen responded in her usual sweet and gentle way, even if she wasn't giving answers to anything. After a while, Peter's tiredness hit him again, so he decided he might risk a little sleep. He was in the best mood he'd been in over the last couple of days, so he figured now would be the best time to take the chance.
"Alright Karen," Peter announced as he set down his tools, "I think I'm going to try and rest for a little bit."
"That would be good for you," the A.I. replied. "Your energy levels have been going down steadily over the last couple of hours."
This time, instead of the cockpit, Peter went to a small room he had found on the ship. It didn't have much the way of a bed, but he figured mixing it up might be for the better. He'd get a little rest then get up and, hopefully, finish enough repairs to ensure he could make it home.
"Karen?" he said as he sat down, leaning against a wall.
"Yes Peter?" the A.I. said.
"Thanks for talking with me," he replied. "It was nice."
"No problem," she said. "Have a good rest, Peter."
"Hope so," Peter replied, closing his eyes and settling in for what would hopefully be a better rest than the last one had been.
Hope you guys are enjoying this! Reviews are welcome, even if they are negative (just please be polite). It all helps me grow and develop as a writer in the end.
Continuing to pray for you all! Stay safe and healthy!
"Lord, see how my enemies persecute me! Have mercy and lift me up from the gates of death." Psalm 9:13
