Taneleer's eyes widened – which was saying something, since it took a lot to startle him. He knew the boy wasn't actually in the room with him, but that meant a mental element that was next to impossible, considering his own real protections that were formidable, to say the least. This child had gone through them like they were nonexistent.

Luckily for him, he supposed, the boy didn't seem to appear malicious.

"Hello, Peter," he replied, realizing that he was suddenly being allowed that which he'd been wanting the most, and was careful not to scare the child away before he'd had a chance to learn about him. "My name…" he hesitated, wondering which would be the least formal. "I'm Taneleer."

"Hi."

"Tell me why you're here…"

Might as well make sure there wasn't a threat, after all.

"Oh. Yeah. I was told you were curious about me." He made a wry face, as if listening to a conversation Taneleer couldn't hear. "Well, I mean, a lot of people are, I suppose, but we – that is, I – thought that it might be better if I came to see you, rather than have you show up on my doorstep someday."

He didn't deny the possibility.

"Where are you from?" Taneleer asked, curiously. "How do you have such a connection with the power stones? Are all your people like you?"

Another pause, and the collector was certain, now, that the boy was listening to someone else. Probably someone who was guiding him through the conversation, maybe someone who was advising him what he should tell him, and what should be kept a secret? The question about Peter's origin had been automatic, and even as he'd asked, he'd realized that it would have been foolish for the child to actually answer it. From the response, Peter knew it, as well. Because the boy didn't even acknowledge the question – much less answer it.

"I'm a little different than some of them. Well, pretty much all of them."

"You're human?"

"Yes."

"Well… well, well, well…" he looked at him, speculatively. "You're so young."

Peter didn't really know what to say to that, and it showed. He simply shrugged.

"Yeah. A little bit."

"You met Thanos?"

"Yes. His army, too."

"And defeated them all with a light."

"There were a lot of people involved, too. It wasn't just me."

"But you wielded the stones? Like the prophesy said would happen?"

"Yes."

"How did you find them?" Taneleer asked, curiously. And with interest, since he wouldn't mind knowing where they were. "And how did you manage to survive wielding them?"

There was a slight pause, and the boy held up his hand. The one that was covered with the brace.

"They called me to them," he said, shrugging. "And I had a lot of help. I didn't know where to find them, but they apparently knew I was coming, and made sure they were where they needed to be in order for me to find them."

"Like my stone?" he asked. "And my servant?"

"I just got lucky. I literally turned around and there she was in the spaceship."

"Where is she, now?"

"That depends."

Now the collector saw just a hint of a challenge in the boy's expression and stance and – of course – found himself feeling just a little defensive because of it.

"On…?"

"On why you want to know."

Taneleer scowled.

"She's mine."

"No longer. She doesn't belong to anyone, now."

"You killed her?"

"What? No. She's working at an orphanage. With kids. She likes it, and they pay her a fair wage."

"And if I want her back?" Taneleer asked. "What then?"

"She doesn't mean anything to you, Taneleer Tavin," the boy said – making the collector wonder how he knew his last name, when he knew he hadn't shared it with him. "She's safe, and she's happy, and she'll live out her days on my world, and with my people. If you want to try and come find her – or me – then I suggest you reconsider."

"You dare threaten me?"

"I'm warning you," Peter corrected. "You have the stone back, that should be enough for you."

There was suddenly a vision in the man's mind. A picture that wasn't a memory (and he had eons worth of memories) and a thought that wasn't his own imagination. A picture of Thanos standing on a rooftop staring down a man in a red and gold metal suit, and a woman in blue and silver, another man in black and the boy standing by himself, holding a glove that glittered with the colors of the infinity stones. A challenge made, an answer given and a snap of the fingers causing a burst of light that was blinding, even to him.

And he wasn't even there.

The light expanded, and vanished along the horizon, wiping out every creature and minion in Thanos' army as it went, and taking down the mad titan, as well. A thought, as clear as if there was a voice in his head – that wasn't Peter. It's coming this way, and nothing that is a threat to the wielder of the stones will survive its touch. And if he left before the light arrived on his world and he avoided it? The mind stone knew. The stones would defend the boy. Would call him to them and once more he'd pick up the gauntlet and this time it wouldn't be Thanos that he came looking for.

Peter wasn't threatening him, Taneleer realized, but the power stones most definitely were, and they were making sure there wasn't any doubt that they meant what he was 'hearing'. He backed down, immediately.

You didn't live to be millions of years old by being stupid, after all.

"Fine," he said, magnanimously. "She can stay on your world."

The boy smiled, and the collector realized that the child wasn't even aware of the power that he possessed. Yes, he knew he could hold the stones, and he had to be able to feel the connection that he had with them, but the stones were his, for as long as he lived, and would do whatever they thought was needed to ensure that he was whole and hale. He wondered if it was just the universe rewarding him for what he'd done, or if the stones themselves decided to act on their own. Whatever it was, it was amazing, and he felt an almost overwhelming urge to keep him.

"You can't keep him," a voice said, ringing in his mind with a power that rivaled his own, but was tinged with amusement. "There is a large extended family who would rise up against you with the might of countless worlds to bring him home, again."

Not to mention the stones, came an unspoken thought. Including the one that he now held in his hand, almost forgotten in the novelty of the conversation.

"I know," he replied to that voice, alone – uncertain if the boy could hear him, but deciding that he couldn't. "But he's extraordinary. Can I talk to him, again, someday?"

"Almost certainly. But let's give him a chance to heal up a bit, first. Time to cut this conversation short."

"Right." He turned his attention from the presence back to the boy. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Peter."

"Thank you, Tanaleer. You, too."

"Take care of Sirah, for me, will you? Her mother was a favorite of mine, and I promised that she would be well cared for."

"I will." He hesitated. "I like your collection."

The ancient being smiled; everyone loves a compliment, after all.

"Thank you. If you ever need something, send word. I'll do what I can to assist."

Peter nodded.

"Thanks."

There was a new flare of light, and the collector held his hand up to protect his eyes. When it faded and he lowered it, again, the boy was gone. But the container with the reality stone was still in his hand.

"That was fun," he muttered – meaning it, for the most part.

He stood up and walked toward the section of his collection where he put his favorite things, and set the sphere holding the stone on the specially lit shelf. Then he went to find something to eat.

OOOOOOOO

Peter woke with a slight start, and immediately felt the arms holding him tighten, almost imperceptibly.

"Shh…" Natasha's voice was sleepy, and the reassurance automatic. "I'm here."

He opened his eyes, almost certain that the collector was still close by, but not frightened, or anything. The guy wasn't scary like Thanos; he'd just been a little weird looking and oozing power of a different sort. The room was silent, though, and Nutmeg was cuddled somewhere above their heads on the pillows, purring loudly in his sleep.

"Sorry…" Peter whispered, burying his face back against her collarbone and closing his eyes. He wasn't shivering or cold, but he felt her tuck the blankets around the two of them, just in case. "It wasn't a bad dream."

No sense letting her think he was upset, after all.

"I know, baby," she told him. He felt her hand brush his shoulder. "Go back to sleep. Otherwise you'll be a zombie, tomorrow."

He didn't argue with her; and was asleep in moments.

Romanoff took a little longer, but that wasn't too surprising; she'd witnessed the conversation and was playing it over and over in her mind, debating whether this collector was someone that she needed to worry about as a potential threat toward Peter, or not. Eventually, she decided that he probably wasn't – although she'd make sure to talk to Stephen, and maybe Tony?, about what she'd seen.

She was fairly certain Peter wasn't going to, after all.

The assassin decided all of it could wait until morning, and allowed herself to drift off, once more.