Thanks for all the support and encouragement! I appreciate all you readers. Here's the new chapter, enjoy!
Parting Ways
Peter feels heavy.
Like a rock. Heavy and immobile. Trapped under the weight of something. Something holding him down. It isn't uncomfortable, and so, Peter pays it no mind.
He sleeps.
But there's something else. A nagging feeling. It's persistent and sharp. Pangs hit him and make him ache. But Peter is tired. He doesn't care.
He sleeps.
There's a feeling. A feeling like he should be worried. Worried about what? It twists unpleasantly like fog around Peter's mind and adds another layer of discomfort. Peter ignores it.
He sleeps.
A voice whispers in his head, the same thing. Again and again. But Peter can't make sense of it. It's just noise. Noise that hides when Peter tries to chase after it. It grows louder and he can't ignore it anymore.
'I love you, kid.'
Meaning. That sentence has meaning and it strikes Peter like a slap.
He wakes.
Light burned in to Peter's eyes. He clenched them shut and felt tears well up in the seam of his eyelids. They stung at his skin and wetted his eyelashes. The darkness behind his eyelids was soothing and the temptation to drop over the edge and back in to unconsciousness was strong.
'I love you, kid.'
That was Mr. Stark's voice. Mr. Stark had told him that he loved him. A warmth bloomed in Peter's chest as that realization hit him full force. It was strong and it momentarily quelled the deep ache that emanated from Peter's stomach and settled in to his bones. It was a feeling that often accompanied midnight hot cocoa with Aunt May while they talked out his problems. Or late night movie watching with Uncle Ben, when they would curl up on the couch and become completely engrossed in the plot of the movie.
Total contentment. A unique brand of happiness that couldn't be found anywhere else. Lately, Peter had found that same feeling wrapping around him like a blanket whenever he worked in amicable silence with Mr. Stark in his lab. Not speaking, just existing in the same space and bopping his head along to Led Zeppelin. Somewhere between the silences and their conversations, he had grown to love Mr. Stark like a father. Peter had thought that the feeling was one-sided because it had seemed impossible that someone as intimidating and unapproachable as Mr. Stark care for Peter in the same way that Peter did for him. Even the softer side of Mr. Stark, which Peter saw from time to time, was not very sentimental.
But, wait. That's right. Mr. Stark wasn't sentimental. He liked Peter. Peter knew that already. But to say that he loved him…
What had they been doing?
Panic swiftly chased away that warm feeling as Peter tried to think. Hazy memories floated through his mind. Were they in the lab? That didn't seem right. There was a bus. A yellow school bus. A field trip and… Ned. That was clearer, but still not right. What came after that? Mr. Stark had said that he loved him. Peter could hear it clearly in his mind. But why couldn't he remember the rest? It was all muddled and dark. What were they doing before that?
Peter huffed an aggravated sigh. His watering eyes prickled uncomfortably, so he raised his hands to wipe the wetness away. Bony finger tips pressed in to his eyelids and Peter felt his stomach drop.
His fingers were bony. They were bony because he was starving. No. He is starving. And so is Mr. Stark. Peter snapped his eyes open and stared wide eyed in to the bright ceiling lights. He allowed the light to pierce his eyes. His eyes stung and watered again. It hurt, which meant he was alive. Alive while others were not, because they had failed…
Titan.
Space.
Ash.
A barren planet filled with crumbling ruins. Peter was there. He could feel the gravitational pull of this strange planet. It was much lighter than the gravitational pull on Earth. Peter curled his fingers in to the soft surface below him, for fear that his body would float away. He could feel, rather than see, the presence of others around him. Peter knew that if he tilted his head to the side, if he stopped looking up, he would see them crumbling in to nothing. Just like the ruin structures surrounding them. Maybe it would be Dr. Strange. Or the bald and gray alien. Or that other human that Peter shared a name with. A choking sound filled the air. After a short moment, Peter realized that it was him making the noise. His lungs felt as though they would collapse.
"Hey, there. It's okay." A calming voice came from Peter side, but he didn't turn his head to look at it. The fear of watching another person crumble in to ash kept him paralyzed. "Everything's okay. You're safe and in the Avengers Medical Bay." The voice continued, and a face entered in to Peter's line of sight. A very familiar face. The crows feet around Bruce Banner's eyes deepened as he peered down at Peter. Why was Dr. Banner here on Titan? The only person he knew here was Mr. Stark. "I want you to take a deep breath for me, okay?" Dr. Banner asked. Peter realized that he was holding his breath. He nodded weakly.
"In."
Peter inhaled a shallow breath. It wasn't enough, but his lungs felt like an elastic band about to snap.
"Out."
Peter took a few more deep breaths along with Dr. Banner. His head started to clear somewhat. Puzzle pieces were falling in to place. Dr. Banner's words were really registering in Peter's head. He was at the Avenger's Compound in the Medical Bay. Peter squinted his eyes against the harsh lights and cast his gaze around. There were no ruins. No desolate city. No hideous, dusty landscape. Instead, rows of empty beds came in to view. It was a comforting sight despite the fact that the Med Bay was Peter's least favorite place in the compound. This was the place where Mr. Stark would grumble about Peter giving him gray hairs. It was a place where Peter was safe. More tears prickled at Peter's eyes. They were caused by the irritating lighting, of course. Peter wasn't crying. Not in front of one of the most respectable scientists in the world. He wasn't.
"FRIDAY, can you dim the lights?" Dr. Banner asked, noticing Peter's discomfort. Silently, FRIDAY obeyed and the lights softened. "That's better, right?"
Peter nodded wordlessly and ran a hand over his eyes. Something tugged at his arm and Peter noticed an IV needle trailing out of it. His throat constricted a fraction tighter than it already was. He had always hated needles.
"Earth?" Peter asked. Or he tried to, anyway. His voice came out all raspy and his throat was absolutely parched. It seemed like a redundant question. The Avengers compound was on Earth, but Peter needed to be certain that he was home.
"Yeah, you're on Earth," Dr. Banner assured him.
They had done it. They had gotten home. Somehow, they had beaten the odds and escaped starvation and suffocation. All of the tension in Peter's body disappeared and his muscles turned in to jelly. A small smile spread over Dr. Banner's mouth. His eyes were on Peter, analyzing him in almost a scrutinizing manner. They flickered over Peter's features, searching for something. If Peter were receiving that look from anyone else, he would have felt uncomfortable. But this was Bruce Banner; world renown biochemist, nuclear physicist, and the most knowledgeable person in the world on the subject of gamma radiation. Plus, he was the Hulk. If Peter didn't know any better, he would say that he was dreaming or hallucinating. It seemed more likely than being in the presence of a living legend.
"I'm Bruce Banner."
The introduction was so unnecessary. Peter almost laughed, but he managed to stop himself in time. He didn't want Dr. Banner to think he was rude. He wanted his first impression to be a good one. Well, he was lying in a hospital bed, so maybe that ship had already sailed.
"I know."
Peter would have said more if his throat wasn't so dry. He would have gone on to tell him about how his picture was in his school's chemistry lab. Then he would have rambled on ceaselessly about the man's achievements as if he wasn't already aware of them. Thankfully, his nonexistent voice saved him from embarrassing himself in front of one of the most admirable men in the world. Maybe being too thirsty to speak was kind of a blessing. Idly, Peter remembered how his first meeting with Mr. Stark had been kind of similar. He was a stammering, star-struck mess and there had been nothing to prevent his rambling tendency. That had been so long ago, but Peter hadn't really changed all that much. He had just become comfortable around Mr. Stark.
Mr. Stark… who wasn't here.
Panic sparked in Peter once more and took him down from his high. He cast his eyes around the Med Bay again, and he saw a figure lying on one of the beds. For a second, Peter felt relieved. Then he noticed that the figure had long strawberry blonde hair. Another layer of worry added to Peter's growing panic as he realized that the figure was Ms. Potts.
"Is Ms. Potts…"
"She's fine," Dr. Banner replied before Peter could finish. "She's just sleeping."
Sleeping? In the Medical Bay? Why would she…? Peter forced himself to focus. Ms. Potts was okay. That was the important thing. Now he needed to know where Mr. Stark was. If he was okay.
"Where's…"
"Tony is in a debriefing meeting. He'll be back soon."
Did Dr. Banner secretly have telepathic powers like Wanda Maximoff? How did he just know what Peter was going to ask?
"You should try and sleep a little longer," Dr. Banner continued, derailing Peter's musings. Peter's body longed for rest, but he didn't think it would be possible. A nervous energy flooded his body, fighting back his heavy eyes and aching body. It wasn't enough to hear that Mr. Stark was fine. Peter needed to see it for himself. The last time he had seen him, they had both been so close to death. Peter had been certain that he would die. He had spent weeks waiting for the inevitable.
'I love you, kid.'
"No." Peter sat up bolt upright so quickly that Dr. Banner took a surprised step backward. "I gotta make sure that-" Dry, hacking coughs cut off Peter's words and his breathing. God, he was so thirsty and hungry and tired. But he would push through. He had to.
"No, don't try to get up," Dr. Banner urged, but Peter ignored him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed just as Dr. Banner placed his hands on Peter's shoulders. With ease, the man pushed him back down on to the mattress and moved his legs so that he was lying down properly. For the first time since the spider bite, Peter was pushed around against his will. The action sparked some long-buried resentment in Peter. "Easy, now."
The attempt to calm him down just pissed Peter off even more. He didn't want to be to be here, and he resented the fact that he was too weak to fight off one person. One person who, in that moment, was just a guy. If Peter were at his best, there's no way that Dr. Banner would have been able to push him around.
"No!" Peter shouted in his horse voice. "I gotta find Mr. Stark!"
Peter struggled against the man, but it was no use. With one hand, Dr. Banner reached over Peter's body and out of his line of sight. A second later, Peter's limbs started to feel heavier and his struggling became more lethargic. His eyes started to droop, and in the back of his mind Peter realized that Dr. Banner had given him a sedative. It made him sleepy, but did nothing to tamp down his anger. His last sight was of the doctor giving him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, kid."
Peter was twenty thousand leagues under the sea. Black water was crushing down on him, making him immobile once more. It was comfortable and warm, but this time ignorance wasn't permitting Peter the pleasure of a restful sleep. There was something he had to do. He needed to wake up and find Mr. Stark. For a long time, Peter simply existed in his suspended state of semi-consciousness. All was silent and he waited impatiently.
And then…
"He seems to be improving much faster than Stark is."
A woman's voice traveled through the depths of water. Peter could hear it with perfect clarity despite the fact that it sounded far away. He had never heard this voice before, but she was discussing Mr. Stark so he perked up and payed attention.
"He has an enhanced healing factor. When I looked into his medical file, it showed that it has helped him a lot with recovering from minor injuries."
Wait, they were discussing him? He recognized Dr. Banner's voice, but who was the woman that he was talking to?
"Yeah, I bet. The hero life is dangerous. What the hell was Tony thinking-"
Well, there was a voice that Peter had heard in PE and detention. Oh, and in Germany. And maybe in some interviews. Not that Peter was a stalker or anything. It wasn't creepy. Normally, Captain America's voice rang with authority and charisma. But now it just sounded… weak. Almost apathetic. It was wrong, and Peter felt anxiety welling up inside of him. What the hell had happened to make him sound like that? Furthermore, why was he by Peter's bed side?
"He was thinking ahead to the future. It's what he does."
And Colonel Rhodes too? Why were all these people here? What the hell was going on?
"He might not even need this then." The woman said.
"Well, we didn't swing by Krylor to pick up a fancy shmancy Xorrian elixir for no reason. That other Terran, the one that threw a temper tantrum, still needs it."
At this point, Peter had given up trying to make sense of anything. There were too many strangers talking about things that Peter didn't understand. It made him a bit uncomfortable to have so many strangers standing near his unconscious body.
"Are you sure this is safe for humans?" Dr. Banner asked.
"The Xorrians are the common ancestor between us and all other humanoid aliens. Since their extinction, Krylorians adopted the practice of making Xorrian medicine. It's completely safe for us to use. Just make sure you give Stark the proper dosage."
Wait, the woman was gonna give Mr. Stark alien medicine? The thought of these strangers using Mr. Stark as a guinea pig made Peter's stress grow even more.
"Us? Wait, you mean you're human?" Colonel Rhodes asked.
"I used to be. Maybe I still am," the woman trailed off. Even immobilized and smothered under the weight of unconsciousness, Peter could hear the echoing ring of despair. "It's not important," She added heavily. There was silence once more. Peter supposed that they must have left. Maybe Dr. Banner was attending to Mr. Stark right at this moment.
"You're staying?" Dr. Banner asked.
"Might as well. What else is there left to do now?"
Peter had never heard Colonel Rhodes sound so empty before. So apathetic. The lack of emotion in such an emotionally charged situation left Peter feeling frightened. His earlier eagerness to wake up and find Mr. Stark, to find answers, had vanished. Now, he dreaded it. It would seem that something worse than Peter could imagine waited for him on the other side of the black water.
Peter wasn't ready for this. He doubted that anyone could be.
He allowed himself to fall in to the total embrace of unconsciousness once again.
The second time that Peter woke felt much better than the first time. It wasn't so difficult to keep his eyes open and the lights above of him didn't threaten to induce a migraine. He tentatively stretched his muscles, expecting them to scream in protest, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the soreness was absent. Instead he enjoyed the satisfying burn of a good stretch.
"Ah, you're awake."
Peter turned his head easily to see Dr. Banner approaching his bed side.
"Feeling a bit better?"
Peter nodded his head. He felt great. If it weren't for the soreness in his dry throat and his empty stomach, he would be completely on his A-game. he felt as if he could've been waking up to get ready for school. Just like any other day.
"Water please," Peter croaked. Dr. Banner reached over on to his bedside table to pick up a cup and pitcher that Peter hadn't realized was there. He quickly filled the glass and then put a bendy straw in it. "Thanks," Peter mumbled before taking a sip. Peter never knew, before that moment, that room temperature water could make him so happy. It was absolutely heavenly. In less than thirty seconds, Peter had drained the cup. "Can I have some more, please?"
"No, not right now. You'll make yourself sick."
Peter knew that he was right. Drinking too much water too quickly would be a bad idea. Still, he couldn't help the frown that pulled at his mouth. He felt like he could drink an entire ocean. Well, no he couldn't. The ocean was salt water. Dammit, Peter was an honor-roll student at a STEM school. The way that his brain was moving so sluggishly unnerved him more so than any physical injury he had ever sustained. He waited impatiently for the synapses in his brain to start firing at full capacity again. Peter's disgruntled state seemed to amuse Dr. Banner at least. He was trying, and failing, to suppress a smile.
"I'll go get you some food and let Tony know you're awake."
Dr. Banner turned on his heel and strode out of the Med Bay, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts. It was a terrifying prospect, and Peter nearly called out for him to stay. But he bit back his tongue and tried to take some deep breaths. An ominous feeling, born from uncertainty, twisted in his stomach. On the Benatar, death had chased after him until he ran out of stamina. He had resigned himself to dying young and he had accepted the fact that he would never find out what had happened to his aunt and his friends. The prospect of living, of finding out the truth was a terrifying thrill.
Something was shuffling on the floor. Something else, that sounded like little wheels, were rolling. Peter looked around for the source of the noise, but saw no one else in the empty Med Bay. That could only mean that the sound was coming from outside… which would mean that Peter's enhanced senses were back. Giddy relief swept over Peter like a tidal wave. A hysterical laugh ripped from his throat, irritating the still sore tissue. In space, he had lost nearly all of his abilities in a gradual process of deterioration. His body focused on preserving what was essential for survival. For the first time, it truly sunk in. He was okay. He was going to live.
Unfortunately for Peter, he couldn't contain his laughter before the rolling and shuffling noise reached the Med Bay door. The door slid open, and Mr. Stark stood in the door way leaning slightly on the rolling IV pole that was hooked up to his arm. Peter couldn't stop laughing. Not even when Mr. Stark's brow pinched with worry as he watched Peter laughing by himself, in an empty room, like a total lunatic.
"Hey, kid."
Mr. Stark walked to Peter's bed side, dragging the IV with him. His pace was slow but his steps were steady. That was a good sign, right? Considering the awful condition that he had been in before, Mr. Stark looked pretty good. The observation had a sobering effect, and Peter's hysterical laughing was replaced with uncontrollable coughing. The crease between Mr. Stark's brow deepened as he reached for the pitcher of water and glass on the table. He quickly filled it, and handed it to Peter, who downed it just as quickly as the first glass.
"You good?" Mr. Stark asked. Peter nodded and felt his cheeks heat up a little. Mr. Stark shook his head and chuckled. Even though he was laughing at Peter, the sound made him feel better. With his free hand, Mr. Stark took the cup from him and placed it on the table. He grabbed a chair and pulled it close to Peter's bed. The sound of the chair legs screeching made Peter wince, but he enjoyed it all the same. His hearing was back. Things would return to normal.
"We're alive," Peter said. Mr. Stark nodded his head tiredly.
"Yeah, things were looking pretty ugly up there." Mr. Stark nodded up towards the ceiling, indicating unnecessarily to the ceiling, the roof, the atmosphere and beyond. "But the darndest thing happened after you passed out. Turns out, Nick Fury had connections to folks in space, not just on Earth. He sent word to a space cadet, formerly from Earth. The Avengers sent her our way to come rescue us."
Peter nodded his head thoughtfully. Oddly enough, that had made sense. If Peter hadn't spent countless hours in Mr. Stark's company, it probably would have sounded like rambling gibberish.
"But how did she find us?"
"The ship has a tracker on it. There's one last member of the Guardians of the Galaxy left. He tracked it down."
A brick sank in to Peter's stomach and his throat tightened painfully.
"One last member-?" Peter began.
"Hey, don't do that," Mr. Stark ordered in a voice so firm it momentarily stunned Peter. "I know that look. You did everything that you could. This wasn't you're fault. Not even close."
Peter knew that was true. He was just one person trying to look out for his neighbourhood and in the process got sucked in to a fight much bigger than he could've imagined. He had seen danger and dived in head first because Mr. Stark needed him. But he had been horribly uninformed of the danger. All he knew was what Mr. Stark had told him during a crash course on Thanos and the Infinity Stones. It hadn't prepared him for the fight that was coming. Really, nothing could have prepared him for those horrors. He was just one person. Completely insignificant in a war that had been brewing for years. Despite knowing that he couldn't have changed anything, it did nothing to assuage his guilt. He couldn't accept it.
"I know, but I still feel bad," Peter mumbled and cast his eyes down towards his blanketed lap. "He's all alone now."
"I think he might team up with the Blue Meanie."
What did that matter? Were they even friends? Peter liked Nebula, but he knew that she couldn't replace the team that the last guardian had lost. The team that Peter had watched die. People were irreplaceable. Peter knew that from experience. When his parents had died and he had gone to live with his aunt and uncle, Peter would lie awake at night missing them so much it ached. He had known, even at that young age, that no one would be able to make that hurt go away completely. He would carry that sorrow forever. Tears started to well in Peter's eyes and he blinked them away angrily. Now was not the time to be digging all that back up again.
"Is Nebula okay?" Peter asked, evading his previous train of thought. A long second of silence passed and Peter glanced up nervously at Mr. Stark.
"Yeah," Mr. Stark drawled hesitantly. Well, that was totally unconvincing. Worry crept up in Peter, tensing up his body. Nebula had been fine when Peter had last seen her, but that was… yesterday? Two days ago? Peter realized that he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Before he could ask about Nebula, Dr. Banner returned carrying a tray with some food on it.
"Thanks, Dr. Banner," Peter mumbled. Hunger pangs twisted his stomach, but somehow the sight of food made his stomach turn. That was the nervousness, he guessed. The anticipation of a storm about to strike.
Dr. Banner smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement. His eyes darted briefly between Peter and Mr. Stark before he turned to leave again. Well, that was odd. Peter noticed that Mr. Stark looked vaguely annoyed, but before he could wonder what had caused that, Mr. Stark forced a smile.
"Wow, I'm impressed with how you kept your inner fan boy in check," he teased. Peter cheeks flushed again and Mr. Stark laughed. Sometimes Peter wondered if the man teased him just to make him squirm. "Thought for sure you would melt in to a puddle." Mr. Stark winced as soon as the words left his mouth and Peter tried to not cringe at his poor choice of words. "Or is Bruce just not as cool as me?"
"Oh, I was awake before and I met him. And I managed to keep my cool," Peter snarked back, leaving out the part that he only managed to 'keep his cool' because he had been physically unable to speak.
"I find that hard to believe."
The banter came easily. If Peter focused on Mr. Stark, he could almost imagine that everything in the periphery was the lab and not the Med Bay.
Almost.
They were both ignoring the situation. Neither one of them wanted to look at the devastation, but it was time. Time to stop skirting around the problem and face it head on.
"I wanted to find you," Peter blurted out, not caring how creepy that must have sounded. "But I was being a little extra, so Dr. Banner gave me a sedative." Mr. Stark's eyes gained a hardened edge as they looked beyond Peter to something that he couldn't see.
"Yeah, they'll do that," he bit out with a small measure of venom. Though Peter knew that anger was directed at him, he winced nonetheless. His reaction seemed to snap Mr. Stark out of… whatever had just happened. He looked somewhat ashamed as he cast his eyes around, looking for a subject change.
"You should try to eat some of that." Mr. Stark pointed towards the tray filled with soup, apple sauce, and creamed corn. Honestly, even if Peter's stomach wasn't doing cartwheels, he would dread eating that stuff. It would seem that hospital food was hospital food no matter where you go. Eating was an impossible task anyway. He couldn't stomach anything while certain questions remained unanswered.
There was a 50/50 chance that May was alive. Those weren't great odds but they were… okay. Maybe. But it wasn't just May who existed in a state of 'maybe dead, maybe alive'. It was also Ned and MJ. And Abe, Betty, Mr. Harrington, the rest of the decathlon team. Liz, who had moved away to Oregon. The odds of everyone being alive got worse and worse as the list grew. For now, he focused on his one remaining family member.
"Kid?"
A deep shuddering breath, and…
"Do you know if my aunt is alive?"
The words left Peter's mouth and their effect was instantaneous. Mr. Stark looks at him with more anguish and concern than Peter had ever seen in his face before. It was all the answer Peter needed.
The air evaporated.
"I'm sorry, Peter." Mr. Stark said. Peter's ears were ringing and he almost didn't hear him. The words took a long time to travel through the void between them and in to Peter's consciousness. When they did, they rang hollow. They had no meaning. "Hey, talk to me, kid."
Talk to him? And say what? The last of his family was dead and Peter was officially an orphan. What more was there to say? It was happening all over again. He had inadvertently killed both his uncle and his aunt. How was he supposed to live with this?
"I don't know…" Peter said breathlessly. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to say. His mind had gone blank. All he could think of was how empty the apartment had felt when Ben had died. May and Peter had lived in that shell, haunted by the memory of someone that neither of them wanted to forget. Now, the apartment would be empty in every sense of the word. No Ben. No May. In essence, Peter was without a home. Then he realized that he was also without a physical home as well. "Where am I gonna go?" He mumbled to himself and was surprised when a warm hand squeezed his. Mr. Stark's larger hand held his, but Peter had no memory of how it got there. Mr. Stark's determined gaze was softened with shades of compassion.
"You're gonna live with me."
Mr. Stark sounded so confidant, so sure in his statement that it left Peter feeling a bit stunned. What could he say to that? Mr. Stark had told Peter that he loved him, but that didn't mean that he should feel obligated to take Peter in. An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Peter wasn't sure what he looked like. His face had long since become numb to him. But something in his expression caused Mr. Stark to look wary.
"I mean, if you want to." Mr. Stark added quickly. "You don't have to if you don't want to. It's your choice."
Something had broken. Something had changed in Mr. Stark in that moment. The back peddling left Peter feeling uneasy. Why would Mr. Stark take back his offer so quickly? Did he get carried away in the moment? Mr. Stark was a fix-it guy kind of a guy who was well known for his impulsive decisions. Was this just a combination of Mr. Stark's problem-solving tendency and a misplaced sense of guilt derived from their mentor/mentee relationship?
"No, Mr. Stark-" Peter rushed out, feeling all at once quite flustered. "You don't have to do that."
The caution in Mr. Stark's gaze intensified and it struck an odd contrast with his unwavering determination.
"I know I don't have to. I want to."
That was a lie. No one wanted this. Mr. Stark wouldn't want to take in a teenager like a stray cat because he was the last living adult in Peter's life who cared about him. If Peter did live with Mr. Stark, he knew that the man would eventually come to resent his presence. He had told Peter that he loved him, but that was only because they spent at most twenty-four hours per week in each other's company. It was easy to love someone that you didn't have to tolerate all the time. Mr. Stark didn't really know him. Not at all. It was kind of surreal that Mr. Stark could have ever said that he loved Peter, considering how little he actually knew about him.
But maybe… that wasn't real.
Peter felt ice flow through his veins as he considered the possibility. He had heard Mr. Stark's voice tell him that he loved him, but Peter had been nearly unconscious at the time. He was weaving between dream and reality. It was possible, Peter supposed, that he had fabricated that memory because he was dying. He had needed to feel safe, and maybe his desperation had intensified what he had thought Mr. Stark felt for him. From this vantage point, as a liability threatening to burden Mr. Stark's life, it certainly didn't seem as though the man could love him. That hurt, and Peter felt an embarrassed flush heat up his cheeks, but it was honest at least. All that Peter really had left in the world was himself. So he needed to be self-sufficient.
"I'm not really a kid anymore anyway. I can take care of myself."
"Peter-"
"I'm feeling a lot better. Soon I'll be outta your hair and I'll-"
He'll what? Drop out of school? Was there even a school to drop out of anymore? He would have to find a place of his own. It was necessary, but how would he do that? There were too many 'whys' and 'hows', and it was all piling up, and Peter was only sixteen…
His eyes were hot again, and Peter couldn't stop the tears this time. A sharp pain was stabbing at his lungs and Peter realized that he could only draw short gasps.
"I'll-"
Sobs choked Peter's voice and the rest of the words sat painfully in his throat. From his peripheral vision, he saw Mr. Stark pull hard at his arm. Focusing his gaze on him, Peter saw the IV needle fall to the floor.
"Don't." Peter protested weakly. "You need that."
"It's okay." Mr. Stark murmured, ignoring Peter's objection. He stood up shakily and sat beside Peter on the bed. His arm fell around Peter's shoulders, making him feel impossibly small. "You're coming home with me."
"No, no, no, I'll be fine-"
"It's okay."
"No, no, no…" Peter whispered to himself over and over again.
"You'll be okay."
That was also a lie. Peter doubted that he would ever be okay again. He was alone now, even in the presence of another person. He was his own family. The last of the Parkers.
Peter was sobbing and hiccuping. He couldn't seem to get himself under control. A worrying thought passed through his mind.
"Don't give me another sedative."
The arm around Peter's shoulders tightened, and Peter buried his face in to Mr. Stark's sweater.
"Not to worry, kid. I'm not mean like Brucie. Cry all you want."
Peter's wet laughs were muffled by the material of the sweater. Crying seemed like an odd thing to be granted permission to do, but Peter realized as the flood gates broke that he had been waiting for it. He cried and Mr. Stark held him. If he was bothered by the tears and snot slicking his sweater, he didn't say anything.
It was the first sunny day since Peter had regained consciousness. The light lit up the lush lawn of the Avenger's compound and glinted off of the metal space ship, which was parked casually in the middle of the lawn. A raccoon was perched on top of it, holding a welding torch in one hand and a welder's mask in the other. A very tiny welder's mask. Honestly, Peter had no idea where Rocket had managed to get his hands on raccoon sized tools. Mr. Stark was in no condition to be building anything in his lab. Peter thought that even if he was physically well enough to do so, he wouldn't want to. There was a frosty nip in the air that had nothing to do with the compound's centralized air conditioning. Mr. Stark just seemed so… bitter. He carried a haggard sort of air that wasn't present before. Peter would have thought that their time spent stranded in space would have been Mr. Stark's lowest point. He was wrong.
A tingling sensation ran over Peter's skin and he realized that someone was watching him. He turned his eyes away from the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the lawn and found a pair of solid black eyes lingering on him.
"You're not planning on skipping town without saying goodbye, are you?"
The question came out like a joke, but it really wasn't. Nebula was lacking somewhat in the social etiquette department. He wouldn't put it past her to sneak off without saying a word. Which was just rude cause, honestly, Peter may never see her again. She approached him with slow steps. They echoed loudly in the empty hallway. Finally, she reached his side and tilted her head down to look at him sitting on the floor.
"You seem to be nearly recovered."
"Yeah, my weird spidey DNA helps to get me out of sticky situations."
Peter patted his hand on the linoleum floor, right beside himself. Apparently, that casual, wordless invitation was universally known, because Nebula lowered herself stiffly to sit next to him. Her joints clicked and whirled much like how human joints made gross popping noises.
"Death is more severe than a 'sticky situation'." Nebula replied flatly and Peter tried not to wince at her directness. Her eyes flickered over his form before snapping forward to look out the window. Her hands twitched restlessly but in a very subdued manner. Finally, she rested them on her knees, her palms cupping her kneecaps. Nervousness wasn't one of the few emotions that Peter had ever seen on her guarded face. Its appearance made Peter uneasy and his stomach knotted in anticipation. "I'm glad that you didn't die."
Oh. Was that all? Peter almost laughed, but managed to suppress it in to a stupid looking smile that Nebula couldn't see anyway. Peter really shouldn't laugh. He supposed that for the severely emotionally constipated, admitting to feeling relieved that a friend was still alive would be a difficult task.
"Me too." Peter agreed lamely. Peter could only see Nebula's profile, but he noticed that her eyes narrowed in annoyance. He glanced forward and realized that she could see his expression reflected in the window. His poorly concealed mirth was evident on his face. Whoops. "Thanks for saving me," he added. It was a genuine 'thank-you', but also an attempt to butter her up and move the conversation along.
"I did nothing. It was Carol Danvers that saved us."
Carol Danvers. The space cadet formerly from Earth, as Mr. Stark had called her. Yeah, she really had saved their asses, and Peter had thanked her profusely when he had met her for the first time. But she wasn't there for those twenty-two soul-sucking, bleak, utterly hopeless days.
"Yeah, but you kept our spirits up when we were all trapped on the ship."
Nebula turn her head to look at him, and Peter saw the metal plating of her face mold in to the purest expression of bewilderment that he had ever seen. It was as if she truly couldn't comprehend how or when she had accomplished such a thing.
"I lifted your spirit?" Her words came out clumsily, and a smirk pulled at Peter's mouth. Maybe that was only an idiom on Earth. Nebula seemed to get the gist of what it meant. Her face settled back in to a confused frown. "That did nothing to aid our survival."
Peter sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. It was the origami flower all over again. Peter wondered if there would ever be a time when he and Nebula would see eye to eye on this matter.
"Maybe not, but it did make the time we spent trapped together less miserable. If I had to go out like that, I would want to spend my last hours goofing off with friends. Playing paper football and cracking jokes. Stuff like that."
The confused frown remained, but Nebula's eyes grew vacant as she became lost in thought. After a few moments she snapped her gaze forward again to take in the view from the window. Or maybe just to avoid eye contact.
"And also Mr. Stark said that you carried me to the Med Bay. So there's that too," Peter added as an afterthought. Nebula nodded her head, seeming to finally accept Peter's gratitude. "You're leaving?"
"Yes." Nebula replied, without turning to look at him.
"When?"
"As soon as the fox is done fixing the ship."
Fox? Peter turned his head forward to look at Rocket welding some of the ship's paneling together. For whatever reason he wasn't wearing the tiny welder's mask. The controlled line of fire seemed to get away from him, and suddenly orange sparks were flying in every direction. He yelped and leaped backwards. At least, Peter thought he yelped. There was no way to hear him on the third floor and behind bullet proof glass.
"Stupid fox," Nebula muttered while huffing a breathy kind of laugh. Oh, she thought Rocket was a fox. Peter had heard Thor refer to Rocket as a rabbit. What was up with aliens not knowing what raccoon was?
"Should we help him?" Peter asked. He was starting to become concerned with how Rocket's devil-may-care attitude would mix with a welding torch. His fur was flammable after all.
"No. His stupidity is entertaining, and these are good front row seats."
Well, that was unsettling. Peter hoped that the meaning behind Nebula's dark humour translated in to 'I have confidence that Rocket is smart enough to not accidentally set his fur on fire.' God, he really hoped so.
"What are you gonna do out there in space?" Peter asked to distract himself from the accident waiting to happen.
"I will try to establish some order to a panicked and grieving universe."
Yeah, Peter figured her goal would be something along those lines. It was all that people like them had left to do in this post snap universe.
"So, damage control?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I'm gonna do that too."
Nebula snapped her head to the side to look at him sharply.
"No. Stark put all of his effort in to getting you home. I'm not taking you off planet."
"Oh, no, I meant I'm gonna do damage control here on Earth, in my neighbourhood," Peter clarified and the razor-sharp edge fell from Nebula's gaze. "I don't know if you've heard, but I'm the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man."
A teeny tiny smirk tucked itself into the corner of Nebula's mouth.
"I thought you were the village idiot of Queens."
Dammit. This wasn't going away anytime soon. Peter cursed Mr. Stark for starting all of this. The man truly was a shit disturber by nature.
"You know what-" Peter spluttered indignantly but then stopped. Nebula was teasing him, but it was all in good fun. And hadn't Peter set out to try to get her to be more human and less robotic? He decided that salvaging his pride was a lost cause and to just roll with the joke. "Spider-Man's a part time job, after school and on weekends. Being the district idiot of a municipality is a full time job."
"It sounds like very prestigious work."
"Sure is. I'll have you know, I'm a pivotal member of the community."
"I bet," Nebula said flatly. It might've been Peter's imagination but he thought he heard some fondness there. Or maybe he only wished it was.
A lull fell in the conversation, and the two sat in companionable silence. From the distance, Rocket finished welding the metal paneling together. He tossed his equipment off the side of the ship and onto the grass before sliding down the side of the ship.
"You're not going alone, are you?" Peter asked nervously. He was pretty sure that she and Rocket would form their own little two-man team, but then again Nebula might just decide to go alone. Maybe she would prefer it that way. But the thought of her confronting the dangers of the universe without anyone watching her back made Peter's stomach twist.
"No, the fox is going to tag along." Nebula said begrudgingly. "If he doesn't get in my way, I might allow him to stay."
Peter's brow knit together as he cast her a confused glance.
"I thought it was his ship. Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"It's his ship for now." She corrected.
Panic flickered in Peter's chest. He liked Nebula, he really did. But he couldn't just sit by and do nothing while she contemplated mutiny and theft. An awkward silence stretched on while Peter tried to decide on what to do.
"That was a joke." Nebula said stiffly and Peter breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oh. Good." Peter laughed uneasily. Okay, so jokes weren't Nebula's forte. She would get there eventually. "Fixing the universe, it's a really big job," he mused, and then realized belatedly how stupid that sounded. It was the understatement of the century. "Huge. Gargantuan, even." He amended.
"I owe it to the universe to clean up some of the fall out of this catastrophe."
"What? No, it's not your fault." Peter rushed out, mimicking the words that had been too often said to him. Peter still had a hard time accepting them. Maybe it was the same for Nebula.
"Not entirely. But partially, it is." Nebula said softly and fixated her gaze on to her hands. "For years I aided my father in his quest to collect the stones and use them to eliminate half of all living things."
"You didn't have a choice-"
"Everyone has a choice." Nebula replied sharply. Its intensity stunned Peter in to silence. "I could have refused to participate in his plan. I would've been executed, but I would've died an honourable death. Instead, I chose to help my father because I wanted his approval and I wanted to live."
Peter didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to tell her that being coerced and abused in to helping a monster didn't make her one as well. Valuing her life and doing what needed to be done to preserve it didn't make her terrible person. But he had a feeling that his words wouldn't do any good. This seemed like something that she needed to realize for herself, and maybe this journey would give her peace of mind. Still, her choice of words rubbed him the wrong way. Calling Thanos a 'father' was disgusting in every sense of the word.
"Why do you call him that? He's not your father. He's a monster."
Nebula leveled him with a hard stare. It wasn't angry or mean exactly. But there was something there. Something that Peter couldn't discern.
"We're not all so lucky," she replied, her voice dull and emotionless.
"What?"
"Nothing." Nebula turn her gaze forward again, avoiding Peter's questioning gaze and staring at the abandoned ship. Peter was left feeling uneasy, as if he had missed something obvious. "I was a member of the Black Order. Thanos referred to us as his children. Even though I was his most disappointing child and he was cruel to me, it was nice to belong to someone."
Oh. So this hurt ran deeper than Peter had known. Not for the first time, he was completely repulsed by how Thanos had treated Nebula. How he treated all of the children he had abducted. This was something that Peter was in no way qualified to help with. He would probably just make things worse while trying to make Nebula feel better. Maybe it would be enough for him to just be there with her. Present, accepting and not judgmental. To let her know that she always had a place with them on Earth.
"You could stay, you know. You could belong with us." Peter offered. He amended the preposition because the thought of anyone belonging to someone else left a bad taste in his mouth. Nebula became frozen like a metal statue. She remained perfectly still as she turned over Peter's offer in her mind.
"No, I can't stay. I need this atonement for my actions," Nebula decided and Peter nodded his head in acceptance. He had expected her to refuse, but he wanted her to know that the offer was on the table. "Besides, I don't think Terra is ready for a cybernetically enhanced Luphomoid to casually walk the streets. I understand that the Avengers are much more accepting of aliens than the majority of Terrans."
Peter cracked a smile at that.
"Yeah, maybe. New York has seen some shit, but I don't think we're quite to the point where grocery shopping wouldn't be awkward for you."
Nebula smiled at the thought as well, and the two of them enjoyed the light atmosphere for a moment. It didn't last, and soon Nebula was pushing herself up off of the floor. Peter recognized the approaching farewell.
"Take care out there, Nebbie." He said, and Nebula became stiff just as she managed to straighten herself up. She looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes.
"Nebbie?"
"Yeah. Like Debbie, but with an N." Peter explained with a grin. It was tit for tat teasing. If Peter had to live with being the village idiot, Nebula would have to live with a stupid nickname. It was only fair. Nebula's face slid in to a deep scowl. Clearly, she didn't agree. "Too much? We're not there yet?"
"You have just made this parting much easier."
Peter laughed easily at Nebula's icy expression. He supposed he was gambling with his life. He was banking on the fact that he knew that Nebula liked him to much to kill him outright.
"Okay, fine. No nicknames. Got it."
Nebula turned on her heel and started to walk down the hallway towards the elevator.
"I expect you to still be alive when I return," she called over her shoulder and Peter felt a warmth settle in his chest. In this life where he had already lost all of his friends to genocide, Peter was glad to have gained a new friend. Someone who would return when the others could not.
"Yes, Ma'am." He called back pressing his fingers up to his eyebrow and saluting her retreating form. Her back was turned and she couldn't see it anyway. Unless she had eyes in the back of her head. Well, she was a cyborg. So maybe she did.
Hat tip to anyone who got the obscure Boy Meets World reference.
Also, I'm writing a new Peter-centric fic that I've been kicking around in my head since May. It's about an adult Peter Parker struggling with life changes and him just wanting to enjoy the Stark Expo for once in his life. But of course he can't, cause of shenanigans and plot. If that sounds like something that would interest you, check it out! I'm writing short chapters for that fic and, as a result, will be updating it more regularly. It's a nice palette cleanser, which allows me to not thinking/writing about WGL all the time.