I hope all of you who celebrate had a wonderful Christmas last week. :) Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews on the last chapter!
And thank you to stjohn27, my wonderful prereader and sounding board. :)
This chapter is mainly in Steve's POV.
"Good morning, Captain Rogers," FRIDAY said, startling Steve out of his trance-like daydream. "The time is 0700. It is a blustery day today in New York City, with an estimated high of twenty-two degrees, winds out of the northeast at ten to fifteen miles per hour, and a dew point of ten degrees. There is no precipitation expected for your morning run, but clouds are expected to move in later today and bring in a slight chance of snow, so I would suggest you take your evening run in the gym rather than outdoors."
"Thanks, FRIDAY," Steve said softly as he set down his sketchpad and pencil. He leaned back on the squashy armchair where he'd spent the night, scrubbing at his eyes with his palm. "I'll think about it."
"Very well, Captain," replied FRIDAY.
Blinking, Steve looked over to the bedroom window—the bright sunlight already glinting off of the surrounding buildings, the sounds of people shouting hello as they walked to work and taxi cabs honking as they drove by—and he let out a heavy sigh. Somehow it just seemed wrong for the morning to be so cheerful and bright when the inside of Avengers Tower still felt like the darkest and coldest of nights.
It had been nearly three months since… what were the news stations calling it? The Battle of Wakanda? The Second Invasion of Earth? The Infinity War? The television was still on in the next room, still tuned to Steve's preferred news station as it usually was, but even he had given up trying to follow much of anything in the wake of the almost overwhelming grief that had fallen like a steel veil over the entire Tower.
The battle in Wakanda had been fierce, much more so than any assault on any HYDRA facility Steve had ever participated in, both in this time and in his own. It'd even been more intense than the Battle of New York, something Steve hadn't previously thought was possible. While the Chitauri had been difficult, the… things that the Black Order had sent down to attack Wakanda, which resembled something close to rabid, mutant attack dogs from the worst possible nightmare a mind could conjure, were something completely different. They were absolutely relentless, willing to mutilate themselves without a second thought in order to gain access through the protective dome blanketing the city. There were quite a few times where Steve hadn't been quite sure that they could actually win the battle, especially when Wanda impulsively left her position guarding Vision and Shuri and joined in the fighting on the plain, inadvertently playing directly into the Black Order's hands. If Shuri hadn't been nearly finished with her work already by that point… there's no doubt the outcome could have been vastly different.
As it was, Shuri had been able to remove the Mind Stone only a couple of minutes later, and with Vision's help, able to fend off the Black Order's attack long enough for Wanda to return to Shuri's lab and destroy it.
And as soon as the stone had been destroyed, the two aliens tasked with retrieving it had immediately retreated to their circular spaceship, abandoning their evil wardogs to be slaughtered by the Wakandan army.
Casualties amongst the Wakandans had turned out to be very few, thank God. Since T'Challa had had the foresight to evacuate the city prior to the start of the battle there were no civilian casualties, and less than a dozen warriors fell on the battlefield. T'Challa had assured Steve that their sacrifice had been a proud and noble one, since they literally helped to save the universe from a genocide so profound it was difficult to even contemplate the scale of it.
But while the Wakandans' sacrifice had been considered acceptable—even proud, as T'Challa had said—there was another sacrifice, a much more personal and painful one, that had turned out to be very much the opposite.
Steve had sensed that something was terribly wrong almost as soon as Tony, Thor, and Doctor Strange had arrived in Wakanda. Bruce had given Steve the short version on what had happened to he and Thor since the Ultron crisis on the flight down to Wakanda, and not even Bruce had expected Thor to still be alive after Thanos had destroyed the Asgardian ship, so it was quite a pleasant surprise when Thor showed up very much alive in Wakanda along with Tony and Doctor Strange.
But Steve's elation at seeing his good friend still alive and somewhat well had dissipated as soon as Steve had asked about Peter. He should've known by the look on Tony's face that something was off; Tony had always been terrible at hiding his emotions, and Steve had gotten quite adept at interpreting his various facial expressions over the years. He and Pepper had been nearly frantic with worry over Peter earlier in the day until FRIDAY had informed them that Peter's last known location had been on the spaceship hovering over New York prior to it leaving Earth's atmosphere. After that, they'd just assumed that Peter was safely with Tony and had proceeded down to Wakanda, so it had been a complete and utter shock to see Tony arriving through Doctor Strange's portal without Peter in tow.
And it had taken all of Steve's inner strength—and more that he didn't know he had—to keep his composure while he got Tony and Doctor Strange transported over to the medical bay, with Shuri managing to swallow her own grief long enough to treat the two men, even dosing Tony with enough tranquilizers to keep him asleep for several hours so Steve could talk with Doctor Strange—Stephen—and Thor to get their accounts of what had happened up there on Titan.
"I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Captain," Stephen had said as he sat on one of Shuri's floating medical tables, his scarred hands clasped tightly together in his lap, his eyes downcast and somber. "I wish I was able to do more to help, but we are in uncharted waters here. The resources available on time fluctuations and travel are quite limited, and deciphering between fact and fiction is difficult at best. I am more than willing to offer any assistance that I can, but I cannot guarantee that it will help to bring Peter back any sooner."
"But he will come back," Steve had replied, immediately latching onto even the smallest glimmer of hope. "That's for certain?"
"Yes," Stephen answered. "But there is no telling when that might be. It could be days, weeks, months, or even—"
"Years?" Steve interrupted, a fresh stab of pain piercing his belly. "He could be gone for years?"
"Yes," whispered Stephen. "Captain, it was the only way. Please, please make sure Tony knows that. I am not usually an emotional man; as a surgeon, I wasn't often allowed the luxury of emotions. But this… this is one of the most difficult diagnoses I've ever had to deal with. Peter was… well… I can now understand why he's so well-loved by your team, and especially by his father."
"Tony does understand, Doctor," Steve had assured him. "I know he does, deep down, even if he doesn't want to admit it. And you're right about Peter. He's definitely a shining light in our at-times very dark world. There's not a single person in Avengers Tower who doesn't love him."
Stephen had nodded and looked again over at Tony, sprawled out on another floating medical table, sound asleep. But his sleep was not a peaceful one, with his brow furrowed in agony and his jaw tightly clenched. T'Challa had escorted both Shuri and Pepper out of the lab once Shuri was finished, presumably to keep them company while Tony slept.
The flight back home to New York had been especially somber, the shock over Peter's loss still too fresh to inspire any kind of conversation and with Tony practically in a fugue state, slumped against Pepper and Rhodes as if his skin and bones could no longer hold him together. Thor had had to pretty much carry him inside once they arrived, and ever since then a pall had fallen over the Tower, one so harsh and heavy it seemed as if there were no way it could possibly be lifted.
The shining light had disappeared, leaving behind only darkness and pain.
With a heavy sigh, Steve pushed himself up from his chair and walked to his closet, reaching for a pair of his running shoes. "FRIDAY?" he asked as he slid them on and began tightening the laces. "Did… um… did Tony manage to get any sleep last night?"
"I'm afraid not, Captain," answered FRIDAY in a somber voice. "He's currently sitting on the floor in Young Peter's bedroom, where he's been for approximately the past eighteen or so hours."
"He's just sitting on the floor?" Steve asked, still holding his shoelaces in his hands. "Doing what? Is Pepper with him?"
"Miss Potts spent several hours with Mr. Stark in Young Peter's room during the night, prior to her reporting to work," said FRIDAY. "But I'm afraid I can't reveal anything more than that without Mr. Stark's permission. I am sorry, Captain."
"No, no, that's okay, FRIDAY," Steve said quickly, pulling off his shoes and reaching instead for the flip flops he often wore around the Tower. "I… um… would it be okay if I went up and checked on him? I don't really feel like going running this morning."
"I cannot guarantee that Mr. Stark will respond to you, Captain," said FRIDAY. "But seeing as how it has now been almost twenty-four hours since Mr. Stark has eaten or drank anything more than a few sips of water, I would very much appreciate it if you could try and talk to him."
Steve's shoulders sagged and he nodded, as if he was expecting FRIDAY to be able to see him. "Sure, FRIDAY. I can try."
"Thank you, Captain," FRIDAY said. "I will have the door to the penthouse unlocked when you arrive."
As he headed out of the bedroom, Steve caught a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror over the dresser, his brow furrowing with disgust at his unkempt appearance. His hair was the longest it had been in a long time, probably since he'd been a boy, when haircuts were considered a luxury for a time during the Depression, and the circles under his eyes were so dark that he looked like he'd been repeatedly punched in the face by Bucky's vibranium arm. He also hadn't shaved in several weeks, not since the battle, actually, and was now sporting a rather scruffy and ratty beard that made him look like he'd suddenly turned into a nomad. He'd been trying to work himself up to resume something of a normal routine again in the past few days, thinking it would help not only him but also jump start the rest of the team. They'd all been under the same fog ever since the battle, and Steve felt it was his responsibility to try and lift the team out of it. He was the Captain, after all.
Even if it felt like the heaviest thing he'd ever lifted in his life. Even if he felt like he had no idea even where to begin.
Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Steve headed out the door and down the hall towards the elevator. It was already open and waiting for him when he arrived, taking him directly to the penthouse floor. Steve winced as he stepped off the elevator and into Tony's cold, sterile living room. Pepper had always been diligent about maintaining a clean home, but there still had always been some evidence of Peter's presence there. The television tuned to one of the science fiction movies he loved to watch. One of his Lego catalogs sitting open on the coffee table, with the sets he desired circled in red. Various books on Norse mythology and magic children strewn about the couch cushions, bookmarked with playing cards, and always plenty of blankets draped over the backs of the furniture, mixed in with the occasional hoodie.
But now, everything was gone. The television was silent, the books and catalogs and blankets picked up and packed away into Peter's room by Pepper in her desperate attempt to try and come to grips with Peter's disappearance. Steve let out a shiver as he remembered the screaming match Tony and Pepper had had that night, the first time Steve had ever heard Tony lash out at Pepper so harshly. She had tried to tell Tony that he needed to start moving on, that Peter wouldn't want him to spend all day, every day mourning him when he wasn't even technically dead, while Tony had seen the clean-up as a personal affront to Peter. He'd wanted everything to stay the same, just waiting for Peter to come back, as if he were just simply at school or over at one of his friends' houses.
Pepper had ended up sleeping downstairs in her office on that night. And the next day she had informed Steve that their wedding plans had been put on indefinite hold, pending Peter's return.
Whenever that might be.
As he padded across the floor and down the hall towards Peter's bedroom, Steve hesitated. The last time he'd tried to speak to Tony hadn't gone well—he may as well have been trying to talk to one of his punching bags—and he wasn't convinced that this time was going to be any better. Especially if Tony still wasn't eating or sleeping.
Poking his head around the open doorway, Steve's shoulders sagged as he caught sight of Tony. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against Peter's rumpled, unmade bed with his head tipped back and his puffy, reddened eyes unblinking, staring up at the ceiling. Peter's old stuffed polar bear was cradled delicately against Tony's chest, his rough mechanic's hands absentmindedly stroking the bear's dull, ratty white fur. Next to him on the floor sat a full tumbler of Scotch, with an empty highball glass right beside it.
Steve's eyes filled with tears at the sight of him, one of his dearest friends reduced to only a shell of the man he once was, all because he'd dared to take in and love a twice-orphaned child.
Clearing his throat, Steve rapped lightly on the doorway with his knuckles, hoping to avoid startling him. "Hey, Tony."
At least thirty seconds ticked by before Tony finally responded, his voice low and gravelly with disuse. "The hell do you want, old man?"
Steve took a tentative step into the room, a knot the size of a marble forming in his throat. Tony looked like he hadn't showered in days, still dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing the last time Steve had stopped by. His hair was a mess, streaked with grey, flattened against his head in some areas and standing straight on end in others, with his beard overgrown and ragged. His eyes were so swollen Steve was surprised he could even open them, and his skin had that horrible pale, ashen tone to it that he'd had back at the Raft, during the final standoff with Secretary Ross.
"I just—, I just wanted to stop by, Tony," he said softly. "See how you were doing."
Tony scoffed, raising his head to gape at Steve for a few seconds then burying his nose into the neck of the polar bear. "The smell's starting to fade already, did you know that? This bear—Pete called him George—he's always smelled like green apples, like Pete's shampoo. Pete's used the same kind of shampoo ever since I got him, and it always smelled like green apples. And since he always slept with the bear in his bed, the bear always smelled like green apples too." He pressed his nose further into the bear's fur, inhaling deeply. "But now—, the smell's starting to go away, and I don't—, I don't know what I'm gonna do once it's completely gone. I just—"
Tony's voice broke off as he glanced up at Steve, his eyes narrowing as if he'd just noticed Steve was there. "What makes you think I want you checking up on me? When the hell are all of you guys gonna understand that I just wanna be left alone!"
"Tony," Steve whispered. "I want—, I'm trying to help you. We're all trying— we all want to help you."
At Steve's words, Tony raised his head, raising one eyebrow in disbelief as the air in Steve's lungs froze.
"There's only one thing that would help me, and I highly doubt you can do anything about it," Tony said, his words slurred like he was drunk. Steve glanced again at the bottle of Scotch, noting that the seal was still intact, so at least Tony wasn't drunk in the literal sense. "Not unless you've become an expert in the mechanics of time travel all of a sudden." Tony leaned forward, the polar bear still pressed against his chest. "Have you?"
Steve shook his head, swallowing hard as he rubbed his palm across his scraggly chin. "No, Tony, I haven't."
With a single nod, Tony leaned back again, his head flopping back against the bed. "Then what the hell are you doing here?"
"I just—, I want to help you, Tony," Steve said. "I can't—, you know I can't bring Peter back, but I still want to help you, somehow. We all do. Pepper, Rhodes, Thor, and the rest, we all wanna help you. If you could just—"
"If I could just, what, old man?" Tony snapped, his brown eyes shooting such pure sadness and anger at Steve that he shuddered. "If I could just move on, like the rest of you seem to have? If I could just pack up all of Pete's stuff and try and pretend like he never existed, you think really that would help me?"
"No, Tony, that's not—"
"Well, let me tell you!" shouted Tony, slamming his fist down on the floor so hard that the highball glass bounced and tipped over. "There is no fucking way that's ever going to happen! My life—, it's worth nothing without him. Absolutely nothing! Peter was the absolute best of me, old man, and now he's gone! And there's nothing that any of you can say or do that's ever going to change that!"
"Tony!" Steve yelped, tears stinging his eyes. "I'm not trying to change what happened. It's just—, I miss him too. I miss him so much that it's like a constant, gnawing ache in my heart, like a gaping wound that won't ever fully heal until he's back here with us. But you know Peter better than anyone else, and you know that he wouldn't want this for you. He wouldn't want you to… to blame yourself, and starve yourself, and shut everyone else who loves you out of your life. You know he wouldn't, because that's not who he was. Peter was a light, he was everything that's good and pure in this messed-up world, and he loved you so much. He'd—, Tony, he'd be devastated to see you like this. Just like the rest of us are." Steve knelt down on the floor in front of Tony, placing his hand on his arm. "Just like I am."
Biting his lip, Tony shook his head as tears welled up and spilled over, running down his ashen cheeks. "I know he wouldn't want this for me," he finally said. "But he was always the stronger of us. He was always the better of us. And I tried—" His voice broke off as he squeezed his eyes closed, causing more tears to stream down his face, catching on his beard. "I built him the strongest, most advanced suit I could possibly build, and it still wasn't enough to keep him safe. It still wasn't enough to save him. He deserved better, Steve, and I wasn't good enough to give him that. I wasn't good enough. I failed him. I'm a failure."
A single tear snaked its way down Steve's cheek, and he hastily brushed it away. "Tony," he croaked. "You know that's not true."
"Maybe not to you, old man," Tony whispered, yanking his arm away from Steve's grasp and clutching the polar bear to his chest. "But it is to me. Now please, just go the fuck away."
Dropping his chin to his chest, Steve nodded, pushing himself up to his feet. "I'm just a few floors away, Tony," he said. "If you need anything."
He wasn't really expecting an answer, so he wasn't too surprised when Tony didn't offer one. With a final pat to Tony's shoulder, Steve turned and exited the room, his heart feeling as though it had transformed into a giant hunk of lead in his chest. He hadn't had too high of hopes that only one conversation would be enough to turn Tony around, but he had hoped to at least be able to get through to him enough to slow down the obvious path of self-destruction he was on. But even that seemed to have failed in a spectacular fashion. It was almost as though Steve was back on the HYDRA train during the war, watching helplessly as Bucky slipped from his fingers and fell to his apparent death.
Except this time it was like it was happening in the slowest of slow motions, which made it seem so much worse.
Peter's eyes flew open as he came to with a shuddering gasp, his fist still tightly clenched inside the glove he and Thor had ripped away from Thanos only moments before. Blinking rapidly, he examined his new surroundings, trying to regain his bearings. He definitely wasn't on Titan anymore, that much was clear. This place, wherever this place actually was, was much lighter than Titan had been, full of colors and shapes that had been nowhere to be found on the barren rock of a planet they'd just been fighting on.
"Dad?" Peter called, wincing as the word was practically torn from his raw throat. "Dad? Are you here somewhere?"
When no answer came, Peter cleared his throat, looking down again at the glove covering most of his left arm, the green Time Stone still glowing its brightly-colored hue, resting over the knuckle of his thumb. What the hell? Why's it still glowing?
"Dad?" Peter said again, his head whipping around such that he didn't even notice that he was basically floating until he happened to look down at his feet, gasping in shock when he saw no ground or floor beneath him. "Um… Dad? There's something that's really weird going on here! I'm—, I'm actually getting a little freaked out, are you there?"
But there was no response. There was nothing at all, in fact. It was as if Peter had been transported into some other world or something.
Nothing, that is, except for the giant bug-like creatures that seemed to be floating along with him in this vast expanse of nothingness, reminding Peter of the grubs that goofy warthog liked to eat in the Lion King movie. There were also things that looked like giant dust mites traveling in vast grey swarms, zigging and zagging around like mutated schools of fish, and other things that resembled molecules of the same ragweed pollen that used to make Peter sneeze all the time every spring and fall, at least before the spider bite.
What the hell is this place?
"Peter?" Peter suddenly heard, and he turned abruptly at the sound of his father's voice, which seemed like it was echoing from miles away and across a massive mountain range or something. "Where is he? Where's my son?"
"Dad?" Peter yelped, trying to keep the mounting fear out of his voice and failing miserably. "Dad? Dad? I'm right here! Dad, please, I'm here, but I'm not exactly sure where here is, so I could use a little help! Are you there?"
"Peter?!" he heard again, his belly clenching at how panicked his father sounded. As if Dad needed yet another reason to panic today. His poor heart…
"Starkson!" came the frightened, accented voice of Thor. "Starkson, do not close your fist! The gauntlet—!"
"Oh no!" Peter whispered as he looked down at his clenched left fist, the glowing green stone reflecting off of the other four colored stones imbedded in the knuckles of the gauntlet. "What have I done?"
"I don't know where the Time Stone has taken him, Stark," said the low, faint voice of Doctor Strange. "I only know that he's still alive."
"Time Stone?" muttered Peter, the blood turning to ice in his veins as realization dawned. He quickly straightened his fingers and shook his arm, but the Time Stone still kept glowing that sickening green color. "Oh no! I'm not even in my own time anymore!"
That same panicky, suffocating feeling of being crushed under tons of concrete and steel came rushing back, and Peter pressed his palms to his chest, trying to take the deep breaths Sam insisted on whenever he felt like this. He still had his helmet on, which was probably the only way he was able to keep breathing in this otherworldly place, and the rest of his suit seemed to be intact as well, so as long as he wasn't attacked by anything, Peter concluded that he should be able to stay okay until someone figured out a way to get him out of here.
"Bruce is back now," Peter murmured to himself between his gasping breaths. "And Bruce and Dad and Shuri are three of the smartest people in the world. They should be able to figure something out."
Maybe all Peter needed to do was wait.
Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, Peter released it slowly, bringing his knees up to his chest in an effort to try and make himself comfortable. Oddly enough, he didn't feel cold in this goofy place, which was good because he highly doubted that the heater built into his suit would even function out here.
"I just gotta be patient," Peter said. "I can try to be patient." Patience had never been one of his strong suits—in fact, he was pretty much horrible at it—but he guessed there was no time like the present for him to work on it.
'Cause Dad'll find me soon. Won't he?
Days and weeks passed. Below-freezing temperatures and Nor'easters slowly gave way to melting slush and blooming trees while the news stations remained fairly quiet, the Infinity War already considered to be old news.
But while the promise of Spring on the horizon usually meant a renewal of hope and happiness to Steve, this year things were very different. Nearly six months had passed since Peter's disappearance, and the team was no closer to understanding where he was or how they could possibly help him than they were back when it first happened. Steve had tasked Bruce with working with Stephen Strange about a month ago—with Shuri checking in remotely when she was able—trying to at least attempt to understand the intricacies of time travel and other dimensions. Stephen had even attempted a few times to visit some of these other dimensions, including one that he called the Quantum Realm, a place Steve had first heard about when Scott Lang mentioned it briefly during their convalescence on Wakanda after the Raft incident. According to Scott—and corroborated by Stephen—the Quantum Realm was a dangerous place, one that Scott had only barely escaped from and one that Stephen felt comfortable visiting for only a few minutes at a time. Not long enough, he told Steve, to conduct a proper search for Peter.
And with each dead end that they ran into, Steve felt his hope for Peter's safe return slowly being chipped away. Tony hadn't improved hardly at all; he was still spending hours and hours just sitting on the floor in Peter's room, Peter's stuffed bear clutched to his chest. Pepper had told Steve that he'd lost nearly thirty pounds, only eating when she forced him to do so, hardly sleeping at all but yet with none of the manic energy he usually had during times of crisis.
It was as if Tony had just given up. That his heart had finally been broken so badly that it was irreparable. It didn't matter that he was still surrounded by people who loved him and needed him, because the one person he loved the most, the one person Tony truly needed, was gone.
And if the team wasn't careful, if they couldn't find a way to breathe some life into Tony soon, Steve was afraid that Peter would no longer have a father to return to by the time he did come back.
Steve at least had restarted the team's training sessions, keeping them confined to the Tower for the time being as there was no way he felt comfortable heading to the Compound if it meant leaving Tony and Pepper in the Tower alone. The physical activity at least seemed to help boost their collective spirits, if only for the short time during and following each session, but at least it was a start. As much as Steve wanted to hope that there wouldn't be any need for the Avengers' services before Peter came back, Nick Fury was reluctant to count on that, and had gently—or at least as gently as Fury could muster—suggested a couple of months ago that Steve try and get the Avengers back on track, even if it meant that Iron Man would no longer be participating.
"Did you enjoy your run, Captain?" FRIDAY asked as Steve entered his apartment, still huffing and puffing from sprinting the last four blocks back to the Tower. "It is a rather nice day today."
"Yeah, FRIDAY," he replied as he headed to the kitchen, pulling a liter bottle of water from the icebox and downing it in about ninety seconds flat. "New York is usually pretty nice this time of year."
"There was a package delivered while you were out," FRIDAY stated as Steve dropped down onto his couch to remove his shoes. "It was placed in Mr. Wilson's mailbox by mistake. I instructed him to leave it on your kitchen table."
Steve whipped his head around, his eyes landing on the small, envelope-sized package sitting in the middle of his small table. Picking it up, Steve immediately recognized the handwriting of Nick Fury.
"Thought you might enjoy these. Tis the season, after all."
Ripping open the envelope, Steve's heart lurched as he pulled out two tickets to the upcoming home opener of the New York Mets. While Steve had gone to a few other baseball games over the years since he'd moved into the Tower, there had only been one other opening day game that he'd attended.
It had been with Peter, shortly before the whole Project Insight mess. Back when Steve had still believed that Bucky was dead. That had been the first time Steve had really talked with anyone at length about Bucky, and he still was amazed at how good a listener Peter had been, especially given how young he was at the time.
With a heavy sigh, Steve shoved the tickets back into the envelope, tossing it back on the table as he headed for the bathroom to take a shower. He'd deal with them some other time.
"Pardon me, Captain," FRIDAY said about an hour later, just as Steve was finishing his breakfast of bacon and eggs. "There's a phone call on the line for Mr. Stark, but he is refusing to take it and the caller is insisting that it is of the utmost importance. I am wondering if you wouldn't mind accepting the call on his behalf?"
Steve quirked an eyebrow. "Who is it, FRIDAY?"
"The gentleman gave his name as Hank Pym," answered FRIDAY. "He said he was a former colleague of Mr. Stark's father, and a former member of—"
"SHIELD," Steve interrupted. He remembered a Hank Pym being mentioned by both Tony and Scott Lang at some point or another. "Yes, I've heard of him. Did he say what he wants?"
"Not exactly, sir," FRIDAY admitted. "But he's insisting that it is very important."
Huffing out a sharp breath, Steve pushed himself away from the table, heading for the living room. "All right. I'll take it in the living room, please."
"Right away, Captain," said FRIDAY. "Thank you."
Three seconds later, the news coverage playing on the television was replaced by the image of an elderly, grey-haired man standing next to a young woman with long, brown hair, both with pensive expressions on their faces.
"Captain Rogers," the man said almost as soon as he'd blinked into view. "Thank you very much for taking my call. I was hoping to reach Anthony Stark, but apparently he's—"
"Tony is unavailable at the moment," Steve interrupted, as politely as he was able. "How can I help you, Mr—?"
"Pym," the man said. "My name is Hank Pym, and this is my daughter, Hope. As I'm sure you've already heard, I was a former associate of Howard Stark."
"Yes, I knew Howard as well," answered Steve. "Although not when he was working with SHIELD."
"Ah, yes," said Hank, glancing sheepishly at his daughter. "Of course you would've known Howard. Forgive me; it's been a quite the whirlwind around here for the last six months or so."
"Dad!" hissed the daughter—Hope, her name was, and Hank's face immediately fell.
"Oh my God," Hank mumbled. "Um… perhaps it would just be better if Hope explained the purpose of this call." He shook his head as he stepped back. "No wonder Anthony didn't want to speak to me."
Hope drew in a deep breath, trying to smile as she looked at Steve. "I am sorry, Captain. My father—"
"It's all right," Steve said, trying to hide his mounting impatience. "Please, continue, Ms Pym."
"It's van Dyne, actually," Hope replied. "I… um… go by my mother's maiden name."
"Ms van Dyne, then," said Steve with a quick nod. "How can I help you?"
"It's more of a question as to how we might be able to help you, Captain," said Hope. "A few weeks prior to the Battle of Wakanda, my mother, Janet van Dyne, was successfully rescued from her entrapment in the Quantum Realm by my father. She had been trapped in there for nearly thirty years, Captain, and with the help of myself and Scott Lang, my father was able to transport himself into the Quantum Realm and rescue her."
Oh dear God! Thirty years?
"That's wonderful news, Ms van Dyne," Steve said. "But I'm not quite sure how that's relevant to—"
"Scott wanted to be here himself to speak to you, or rather, to Mr. Stark," Hope continued. "But there was a minor emergency with his daughter's stepfather this morning and he was needed to bring Cassie to school. He should be back soon, but I thought it best to get the ball rolling, so to speak. So, the reason why we were calling is because due to an ongoing need, Scott has been making regular trips into the Quantum Realm. And on one of those trips, which occurred just yesterday, Captain, Scott returned from the Quantum Realm absolutely convinced that he saw Mr. Stark's son in there, just before we pulled him out."
Steve immediately froze, his mouth going dry as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "He saw—," he stammered. "Scott saw Peter?"
"Yes," Hope said as she leaned forward, her nose only a few inches away from the monitor. "When we pulled him out he was ranting and raving that we needed to send him back as soon as possible, because he could've sworn that he'd seen Peter Stark floating inside the Quantum Realm. He said Peter was wearing a red suit embossed with a large, black spider, and that he remembered Peter telling him that he'd been bit by a spider while they were held prisoner on the Raft."
"Yes, that's right," Steve croaked, wincing as he realized he'd just revealed Peter's secret identity to a near-stranger. "And did you send him—Scott—back in?"
"We did as soon as we were able to, Captain," Hope admitted. "It's unfortunately not as easy as simply flicking on a light switch, for example. A Quantum dive requires the proper calculations, equipment, planning, and a backup tether, just to name a few examples—"
"I understand that, Ms van Dyne," said Steve, his impatience finally breaking through. It was a complete lie, of course. Despite the not-so-few times Bruce and Stephen had tried to explain it to him, Steve pretty much understood next to nothing about the Quantum Realm. It didn't help that neither Bruce nor Stephen seemed to understand it all that well either. Shuri seemed to have the best grasp out of all of them of the concept, but even she was still a bit puzzled about how it exactly worked.
"We were able to send Scott back in about four hours later, Captain," said Hope. "And he wasn't able to locate the boy again on his second trip, but that doesn't mean that he wasn't there. As you probably can imagine, the Quantum Realm is a big place, with a lot of nooks and crannies. And we were hoping that perhaps Mr. Stark would be willing to give us a hand while we figure out how to proceed from here."
"Ah…" Steve stuttered, his mind racing from this rash of unexpected news. "Ah… I'm sure Tony would be willing to help you with anything you could possibly need, as long as—"
"Look, Captain," Hope said, rather abruptly. She glanced back at Hank, who was sitting in an armchair towards the back of the frame. "I know… Tony, as you call him, doesn't have any reason to trust my father—"
"Well, you did send Scott to break into his home—our home—and attack one of our team members," Steve stated. "Even if Scott did feel bad about it afterwards."
"Yes, yes, I'm aware of that," said Hope. "And Scott has assured me that he was able to personally apologize to Mr. Stark for that particular break-in, and that Mr. Stark accepted his apology. I also understand that Scott and the boy spent quite a bit of time together during the incident on the Raft, and that Scott was quite helpful to you during that incident."
"That's true," Steve said warily. "But I'm not exactly sure where you think this is going, Ms van Dyne. What are you getting at?"
Hope let out a heavy sigh. "I'm hoping that Mr. Stark won't just dismiss this option out of hand simply because it's my father who's offering it. I'm hoping that Mr. Stark will agree to bury the hatchet, so to speak."
Steve's eyebrows knitted together as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I can assure you, Ms van Dyne, that whatever happened years ago between Tony's father and your father will have little to no bearing on what is happening now. Tony is not going to dismiss any aid that could possibly get us closer to rescuing Peter."
"And you're sure about this?" asked Hope. "I only ask because… well… he did refuse our call, and—"
"Tony has had an extremely rough time of it these last six months, Ms van Dyne, as I'm sure you can understand," said Steve. "He won't even take my calls most of the time. It was nothing specifically personal. Now, if you wouldn't mind telling me what it is that you need, I can—"
"Hey, there he is!" Scott Lang suddenly said as he entered the frame. "Cap! It's been awhile!"
"Mr. Lang," Steve said, his lips quirking into the slightest of smiles. "It's good to see you again."
"Oh, please, call me Scott," Scott said. He wrapped an arm around Hope's waist. "Has Hope filled you in?"
"She said that you saw Peter, Scott," Steve said quickly. "Are you absolutely sure it was him?"
The smile slipped from Scott's face, and he glanced quickly at Hope, who nodded. "I didn't see his face, Cap. The guy I saw was wearing some kind of a mask or a helmet, and—"
"FRIDAY, please show us a picture of the suit Peter was wearing during the Infinity War," Steve commanded, and three seconds later a photograph of Peter's Iron Spider suit appeared down in the left-hand corner of the screen. Steve's heart lurched at the sight; even after all this time it was still so difficult for him to see. "Scott, did the person you saw look like this?"
Scott tilted his head, biting his lip as he glanced at the photo, then back at Steve. "It was him, Captain. That's exactly who I saw, I am one hundred percent sure of it."
"Oh, dear God!" Steve gasped, his heart thudding in his chest as his knees started to shake. "How soon can you get your equipment here?"
"If you've got a plane we can borrow, Captain," Hank piped up from his chair. "We can be there by the end of the day."
"FRIDAY!" Steve exclaimed. "Contact the pilots and crew of the SI jet, tell them to get it fueled and ready to head to San Francisco. And please notify Pepper of what's going on."
"I'm on it, Captain," replied FRIDAY. "Would you like me to inform Mr. Stark as well?"
"No, FRIDAY," Steve answered, squaring his shoulders. "I'll do that myself."
"Very well, Captain."
"Captain Rogers," Hope said in a serious voice. "Please understand, this very likely won't be an easy fix. It took my father and me years to come up with the exact calculations and equipment that we needed to rescue my mother. Now, since we already have the Quantum Tunnel and most of the other necessary equipment I don't think it will be that long, but the calculations will still take some time. It's not likely that we will have Mr. Stark's son back tomorrow, or even in the next few days. That needs to be made clear."
"I understand, Ms van Dyne," answered Steve. "And I'll make sure that Tony understands that as well."
"The jet pilot states that he can be ready for takeoff in about thirty minutes, Captain," said FRIDAY."
"Thank you, FRIDAY," Steve said. "You guys get that?"
"We did, Cap," answered Scott. "We'll need a truck or a large van to transport the equipment to your facility as well since the Quantum Tunnel isn't exactly pocket-sized. We could shrink it for easier transport, but due to the delicate nature of the tunnel we'd really rather not if we don't have to."
"That's no problem," Steve said quickly. "I'll send Sam and Natasha to the airport with the van. They'll know where to bring the equipment. What can we be working on here in the meantime to speed things up?"
Scott looked over at Hope, who tilted her head. "Anything you might have that would help us track the boy would be helpful."
Steve's eyes went wide. "I'll have to ask Tony about that and let you know. I'm sure he'll be able to come up with something."
"That sounds good, Cap," said Scott. "Then I better get packing, and I probably should let Cassie's mother know what's going on as well. We'll see ya soon!"
"Copy that, Scott, Ms van Dyne," replied Steve. "See ya soon."
As soon as the screen clicked off Steve huffed out a sharp breath, his heart thumping with anticipation. "FRIDAY, please see if you can get through to T'Challa and Shuri, I'd like them to hear this as well. And contact Bruce, tell him to meet me up at Tony's apartment. I'm heading up there now."
"Yes, Captain," answered FRIDAY. "Miss Potts has given the clearance for the jet to depart, and I've already unlocked the door to the penthouse."
"Thank you," muttered Steve as he raced for the door and into the elevator, where Bruce was already waiting for him.
"What's all the ruckus, Steve?" asked Bruce. "FRIDAY mentioned something about a… Quantum Tunnel? Um… what's that?"
"There's a group out in California run by a former associate of Howard Stark's who have built a Quantum Tunnel," Steve explained, his heart still racing a mile a minute. "One of the people involved with this project, Scott Lang, has been making regular trips into the Quantum Realm. And he said he saw Peter on one of his last trips in there."
Bruce's eyes went so wide behind his glasses that Steve was surprised they didn't pop out of his head. "He actually saw Peter? In the Quantum Realm?"
"Yes," answered Steve as the elevator doors opened into the penthouse. "And now we need to all figure out how to get him out."
"And you think Tony's really gonna buy all this?" Bruce asked. "'Cause even that wizard guy said the Quantum Realm's too unstable to stay inside it for very long. I mean, do we know if Peter's even still alive?"
"Stephen has always insisted that Peter would stay alive until he came back, Bruce," Steve said firmly. "And this is the biggest lead we've had in almost six months, so we don't really have a choice. We have to run with it."
They found Tony sitting on the floor in Peter's room, fiddling with some of Peter's Lego figures with George the polar bear sitting on his lap. "I don't know why FRIDAY keeps unlocking the damn door," he muttered, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the Lego set. "What the hell do you want now?"
"It's for your own good, boss," replied FRIDAY.
"Tony," Steve said. He crouched down on the floor next to Tony, trying to keep his voice steady. "I just got off the phone with—"
"With who? Hank Pym?" Tony asked sarcastically. "Why even bother, Cap? That asshole's just as mad as my old man was, always thinking people were trying to steal his research and his tech, and then he turns around and steals from me? He and Howard deserved each other."
"Yeah, he was there," Steve said slowly. "But I also spoke with Scott Lang, Tony. Do you remember him? From the Raft?"
Tony's fist closed around the Lego Iron Man figure he was holding, and he let out a heavy sigh. "He's the shrinking dude, right?"
"Shrinking?" Bruce asked. "The guy can shrink? Um… how?"
"Yeah," said Steve. "He's called Ant-Man."
"There's an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" Bruce muttered under his breath. "What else have I missed?"
Steve shot Bruce a quick glare as he leaned in closer to Tony. "Tony, Scott explained that he, Mr. Pym, and Mr. Pym's daughter have built what they're calling a Quantum Tunnel, and that Scott's been making regular trips into the Quantum Realm to collect something for a friend of theirs." He inhaled a shaky breath, choosing his next words carefully. "And Scott told me on one of his last trips there, that he saw Peter."
Tony's head immediately whipped around, his eyes so wild they looked almost feral as they studied Steve's face. "You're being fucking serious right now," he finally said. "Aren't you."
"Tony, there's no way I would joke about this, you know that," insisted Steve. "Scott said that he saw Peter. He said there was no mistake about it."
"But I thought—" Tony's voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands. "You said Strange had already looked in there more than once, that he couldn't find him, and—"
"Scott has equipment that makes it a lot harder for him to get lost," Steve explained. "And they're already on their way here with that equipment, Tony. Scott has volunteered to go in and try to find Peter again, but they're gonna need your help."
Tony's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. "I don't know, Steve. I don't trust Hank Pym any more than—"
"I have Princess Shuri on the line, boss," said FRIDAY.
"What?" Tony sputtered as he looked over to the monitor. "Why—?"
"Please put her through, FRIDAY," Steve answered. "We're in Peter's room."
"Captain Rogers," said Shuri, her deep brown eyes clouding over slightly as they swept across Peter's bedroom. "What is going on?"
"We think we might have an idea on how to bring Peter back, your Highness," Steve said. "But we could really use your help to pull it off. Would it be okay with you and T'Challa if I flew down there to pick you up?"
Shuri's lower lip started to shake, her eyes flicking briefly over to Tony. "Are you certain, Captain? What is this… idea?"
"Scott Lang personally saw Peter inside the Quantum Realm, Shuri," Steve said. "You remember Scott? He was with us there in Wakanda following the Raft incident."
"Yes, I remember him," answered Shuri. "I do not remember him mentioning making any visits to the Quantum Realm, however. Even after I treated his concussion."
"The equipment he's using is fairly new, and it was built specifically to rescue someone else who was trapped in the Quantum Realm," Steve said. "That rescue was successful, so there's no reason to think that this one wouldn't be as well."
There was a pause as Shuri's eyes swept across Peter's room again, and she pursed her lips. "There are a great deal of calculations required before one can enter the Quantum Realm, Captain. It will not be easy."
"Which is one of the reasons why we could really use your help," Steve said gently. "You and Tony and Bruce, we're gonna need all of you to help pull this off. So, would you grant me permission to come and escort you back to New York, Your Highness?"
"There is no need for you to make such a trip, Captain," T'Challa suddenly said as he came into the frame. He placed his hand on his sister's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I will fly Shuri up to New York myself."
Steve's belly swooped in anticipation, and he looked down at Tony, his breath hitching when Tony gave him a noncommittal shrug in return. Finally, finally, there was a flicker of hope within the cold steel walls of the Tower. "Thank you, Your Highness. We will be waiting for your arrival."
Hope van Dyne had been correct. Even with the collective minds of several of the most intelligent people in the world, the process of setting up Scott's initial Quantum jump took a lot longer than Steve had anticipated, and it didn't help that Tony hadn't yet made any effort to join the team, seemingly still not convinced that this could possibly work. The largest problem seemed to be figuring out how they could possibly track Peter's location, as there was no apparent Quantum link between he and Scott as there had been between Scott and Janet van Dyne that had enabled them to lock onto her coordinates. Bruce, Shuri, Janet, and Hank had been going around and around for several days trying to figure out a way to create a decent Quantum link when Tony suddenly entered the lab one sunny afternoon, having showered, shaved, dressed, and even made an attempt to tame his hair.
"Tony!" Steve exclaimed, unable to keep the elation from his voice. "You—, you're here!"
Tony quirked an eyebrow, an expression that Steve hadn't seen from him in so long, and one that reminded him so much of the old Tony, that tears immediately sprang to Steve's eyes. "You've all been working—and rather noisily, in fact—in my lab for almost the past week, old man," Tony retorted. "Or have you forgotten that?"
"No, Tony," Steve said as he pulled him into a brief hug. "Of course I haven't. God, it's so good to see you!"
"Yeah, yeah, you don't have go on embarrassing me now, do ya?" Tony said, even as he quickly returned the hug. He leaned closer to the monitor where Shuri was working, quickly donning his glasses. "What's the issue we're having?"
"We have everything we need for Scott Lang to attempt his jump," answered Shuri. "Except for a method of tracking."
Steve watched as Tony tapped his chin and cleared his throat, turning to look over at Hank, who was sitting on the lab's couch surround by papers and schematics. "So, you got anything that can track vibrational frequencies in there, Hank?"
Hank looked up, his expression a mixture of pensiveness and determination. "Yes, Anthony, I think we do. But it'd take some doing to alter it to fit Scott's suit."
"You're referring to the nanite frequencies?" asked Shuri. "Of Peter's suit?"
"Of course!" Bruce exclaimed, clapping his palm to his forehead. "The nanites composing Peter's suit would be vibrating on a specific frequency in order to maintain his suit integrity. It makes perfect sense!"
"I made Pete's suit out of the same Extremis nanites as mine," said Tony, quickly tapping commands into the monitor. "So… there. We just gotta program something that can track it and we should be good."
"Scott, hand me your regulator," said Hank. "Hope and I can get this programmed while you and Janet get the tunnel ready."
"Gotcha," answered Scott. He tossed his suit over to Hank, earning a glare from the older man and a giggle from Janet as they headed outside to the landing pad, where Steve had helped them set up the Quantum Tunnel.
"I wanna see this contraption first," Tony stated.
"Of course, Anthony, that's understandable," said Hank as he pushed himself up from the couch. "I'll… um… show you around."
As the two men headed outside to the landing pad, Shuri glanced up at Steve from her monitor. "There is a tension between those men, Captain. They are being falsely polite to each other. Walking on eggshells, I believe your people would say."
"Yeah," answered Steve. "From what I understand, Tony's father and Mr. Pym had a rather harsh falling out almost thirty years ago. One that wasn't helped at all when Hank ordered Scott to break into our Compound."
Shuri nodded, not taking her eyes off her monitor as her fingers flew over the keyboard, a slight smile playing on her lips. "So once again Peter is bridging people together, helping them to mend their past hurts when they were too stubborn to do it themselves," she said, the intense pride in her voice so palpable that Steve could almost feel it. "And only he is capable of such a feat when he is not even here."
Steve's throat tightened, and he laid a tentative hand on Shuri's shoulder. "You're right, Shuri," he said quietly. "And that's one of the main reasons why we're gonna get him back."
Sniffing, Shuri nodded. "I know this, Captain. For the first time since he disappeared, I have hope again."
"You're not the only one," Steve murmured as Tony came back into the lab, tapping furiously on his tablet.
"Are we set?" he asked as he came up behind Shuri.
"I believe so," she answered. "As soon as the alterations are complete to Scott's suit. I have finished inputting all of the necessary variables and the calculations are completed. We are ready."
"'Kay," Tony said softly. He turned to Steve, a frightened, tentative look on his face, like he was too afraid to even hope that this might actually work. He had brought Peter's polar bear along with him into the lab, placing him next to Shuri's workstation, and he reached for the bear now, cradling it against his chest over his heart.
"This is gonna work, Tony," Steve said as he clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder.
"I hope you're right, old man," Tony murmured, rubbing the bear's fuzzy ears. "'Cause I don't know what I'm gonna do if it doesn't."
"We're done, Captain," Hope said as she poked her head into the lab, tucking her long hair behind her ears. "We've got the tracking device set and Scott's already suited up. He says he's ready whenever we are."
Steve's belly gave a hard swoop, and he squeezed Tony's shoulder, guiding him and Shuri towards the landing pad. "Okay," he said, clearing his throat. "You have a go."
"Now remember, Scott," said Hank as Janet and Hope tapped in the final commands into the Quantum Tunnel. "You won't be able to stay in there for very long, I'd say ten to fifteen minutes tops. Anything longer than that will put too much strain on the tether." He snuck a glance over at Tony, still holding the polar bear, his arms trembling slightly. "If you don't find the boy on this first trip, don't worry about it. We'll just keep trying until we do."
"Okay," Scott said as he slid the helmet onto his head that reminded Steve of a deep-sea diver.
"And be sure that you don't get sucked down into a time vortex," added Janet. "It's very likely the tether wouldn't survive the strain, and then we won't be able to pull you out."
"Got it," replied Scott. He huffed out a deep breath as he turned to face the tunnel. "I'm ready."
"All right," said Hope as she fired up the machinery. "Going subatomic in five… four… three… two… one…"
There was a collective gasp as Scott was pulled inside the tunnel, followed by an uneasy silence as the seconds began ticking away. Steve turned as Pepper stepped out onto the landing pad, sliding her hand through Tony's arm as she gave Steve a nervous smile.
"Scott, everything okay in there?" Hank asked into his microphone.
"Yep, I'm here!" replied Scott. "The tracking device is up and running, so we should be good."
"Copy that, Scott," answered Hank. He turned to Steve, raising his eyebrows.
"And now, we wait."
"Aahh!" Peter cried, waving his arms and legs frantically to try and get away from yet another one of the big-ass grub-like creatures as it attempted to come at him, its suction cup mouth opening and closing like something out of a horrible psychedelic nightmare. "Those things are just freaking disgusting!"
His heart thudding against his ribcage, Peter twisted his body around, his eyes widening as he noticed a pale stream of light emanating from off to the side just a few yards away, accompanied by the dull sound of heavy rock music, the kind his father liked to listen to while he worked in his lab.
"Dad?" he whispered, angling his body to try and get closer to the source of the light. "Dad? Is that you?" Tentatively, Peter reached his right hand forward, his fingers breaching the edge of the light beam just as he heard the frantic sound of his name being called, coming from somewhere far off in the distance behind him.
"Dad?" Peter exclaimed. "Is that you?" With a sharp tug behind his belly, as if he was suddenly yanked by an invisible rope, Peter cried out as he was pulled down into the light tunnel, landing in an unceremonious heap in the middle of a busy street.
Peter immediately jumped to his feet, his helmet disappearing as he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. It was dark outside, but there were huge crowds of people mingling about, all talking excitedly and pointing towards the sky. As Peter looked up, his heart did a flip as he recognized the sounds of his father's repulsors firing. Dad was flying in his Iron Man suit across the sky, surrounded by exploding fireworks and aiming directly for the large, dome-like glass stadium about two blocks away. Peter gulped as Dad disappeared inside the dome, instinctively covering his ears as the crowd roared even louder.
"What the hell is this?" Peter murmured as he stepped backwards off the street, crouching down next to a lamppost. Why didn't Dad come to get me? Isn't he looking for me? Peter pressed his palm to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart as he looked over at the dome again, his eyes widening in shock as he realized where he was.
He was back in New York, that much was certain. But he wasn't in Midtown.
He was in Queens.
"Oh, it's good to be back!" Dad yelled from somewhere inside the dome. "This… this is just amazing, don't you all think so?"
Oh my God, Peter thought with mounting horror. This can't be true, it just can't!
"It's about legacy," Dad continued, his booming voice echoing across the massive crowd. "It's about what we choose to leave behind for future generations."
"Peter, you need to stay very close to me, okay? There's way too many people here for you to be wandering off on your own," another voice suddenly said from across the street, one that made the hair on the back of Peter's neck stand straight up and a violent shiver race down his spine. Slowly, he turned his head, his hand coming up to cover his mouth just in time to block the horrified gasp from escaping.
"Aunt May?" Peter whispered through his fingers as tears sprang to his eyes. It was Aunt May, alive and well and standing only about thirty feet away from him. And holding onto her hand, wearing a toy Iron Man helmet and glove was—
"I know, Auntie!" said the little boy next to her, tugging impatiently on Aunt May's hand. "But can we please hurry! We're already late, we've missed part of Mr. Stark's speech!"
"Well, knowing him it won't be his last," Aunt May replied under her breath, checking both ways as they crossed the street and hurried towards the dome.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" Peter muttered as he squeezed his eyes closed, clinging to the lamppost with both arms as he tried desperately to keep himself from passing out. "What the hell is happening? If that really is Aunt May, then that tiny kid with her is… me, and… oh God, why is this happening?"
Because somehow, in some way, Peter had apparently been transported back in time. Around nine years, in fact.
Back to the opening night of the Stark Expo.
I hope you all have a wonderful New Year's Eve/ Day! :)
I can't wait to see what you guys think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)