Earth 312

Pre-Invasion

The moon's bright glow delivered a haunted complexion to the musty room, the light illuminating everything in alien silver. The scraping sound of metal on concrete resonated throughout the hidden locale, large blows interwoven with frantic breaths and sweaty hands as he grabbed the iron bars covering the window and frantically shook. A look of shock and terror covered his face as he cried ugly tears and let the snot drip out of his nose in sticky strands.

"Help me! Please, help me!" He pressed his face into the cool metal, the fresh air taunting him and making him cry harder. "Please—I don't know where I am! Help me." Through many hiccups and voice cracks he managed to sink down and pull his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth as the chains around his wrists and feet scraped uncaringly against the cold ground.

Wild green eyes floated around the room, taking in the lonely bed – the foreign place he had woken up minutes before - and lack of anything else. His chains led to an anchor in the wall and he scrambled to his feet, desperately pulling and jerking on them with all of his tiny might. The only thing he accomplished was noise.

His small frame hugged the wall as a noise sounded outside. His round cheeks were red with tears and his young eyes puffy remained filled with fear. He let out a whimper – such a frightened sound that it was foreign even to him.

It was raining out. He put his hand through the metal bars to try and grab a few drops, surprised to find that it barely fit anymore. His pale skin stood out against the clouded sky, his veins blue and obvious under the paper color. The rain hit his hands and splashed against them in the most refreshing way as he curled open his fingers and cupped them together.

Leaning up – he still needed to be on his toes – he pressed his face to the bars and gently brought the water to his chapped lips. His paling green eyes closed in blissful yearning as he poured handful after handful of rainwater down his throat.

After he was satisfied with his drink he tried to bring some in the room, tried to rub clean his arms and face from the countless months of filth, but found it hard to keep the water in his grasp. He managed to dampen his hands and run them a few times through his grease filled hair before taking his seat below the window, his only remaining source of sanity, hugging his knees close to his chest and laying his head against the concrete with a small thump. His eyes closed peacefully, his mind finding sleep amongst the soft pitter of water dripping behind him.

He sat on the bed, his feet hanging off and his arms hugging his thinning body as he rocked back and forth crazily. Small whispers left his mouth as his head turned violently from side to side, his eyes busily scanning every nook and cranny for possible danger. They snapped to the barred window as some leaves brushed by it, his whispered words becoming faster in delivery. A footstep. He started to cry. Another one. A door opened –

"My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not." His words became louder, desperately trying to drown out the approaching noises. "My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not. My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not. My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not." The locked turned on his door and he flinched.

"My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not!" He was screaming now, angry, powerful words spewing out of his mouth with spit and fear. He screamed with all his might, the veins in his neck protruding with effort as his face turned red and the door opened.

"I will not! I will not!" He hid himself in the very corner of the bed as the figure came closer, his previously powerful words transforming into screams of terror as he was grabbed and dragged down onto the floor savagely.

It was snowing. A harsh wind blew some of the flakes into his room and they floated down onto his grey skin. They stung like embers from where he sat below the window, crouched and hugging his legs with weak arms. It wasn't his first winter season in the room – nor was it his second, or third.

His bony arms struggled to pull himself up; the once tight chains now lose and dragged him down with their impossible weight. Every step away from the window and towards the bed felt like an eternity of pain. His head spun wildly and his vision threatened to black out completely and he steadied himself with the help of the wall. A wet, sticky liquid dripped from his nose and splashed onto the ground, a trail of blood from one side of the room to the other.

He took one step and then another. Finally his body gave out and he collapsed, his hand grabbing for the bed and pulling the blanket down with him as he crashed into the floor.

The snow continued to fall through the window—nature didn't care. No one was coming.

Years passed. The healthy little boy grew to be starved and shaken; his eyes and cheeks sunk into his head as he lay on the bed in a useless heap. That boy from so long ago – with his glowing green eyes and youthful beauty that had seemed so ageless – was gone along with all memories of happiness and sense of hope.

It was dark out again. He had no way of telling how many days it had been – only a rough estimate of the years as the seasons slowly went by. There was nothing with witch to tally the walls; his cell was scoured daily for keepsakes and potential weapons. He had tried to mutilate his body – to create scars in his skin to keep track and number the days – but then they melted and blended in with all the others he had received through daily torture and failed attempts at escape so he had stopped.

Suicide was completely out of the picture. Not that he hadn't tried. God, how he had tried.

Every time he mutilated himself or was close to bleeding out someone would appear to patch him up and make sure he would live another day. It wasn't always his capturer; sometimes it was some poor bastard he managed to manipulate and mind-control and they would show up and help him and when they went home, back to their ordinary lives, they forgot about Roman Thomas Fitzgerald sitting in a pool of his own blood, bandaided and patched up and left to rot for all eternity.

It didn't matter who came – Roman never had the strength to escape. He could never fight back – he was too small a child at first and then, as he grew and was deprived of food, he became too weak to stand by himself much less get out. It was clever, really.

He had tried other ways; pulling at his chains and at the bars encasing the window. They would never budge. It was a fool's errand anyway.

When his bones became so frail and his arms so skinny that he could slip them out of the shackles, they were tightened and he was delivered another blow to his body, another blow to his sense of humanity. He had accepted long ago that he wasn't human; he was an animal, and he was being punished because he refused to do as he was asked. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

But his perseverance was slowly fading, slowly slipping away and for a while he was scared that, any day now, he would cave in.

But then something had happened and the trays of food that used to come once daily – if he were lucky – then came twice daily, sometimes even three times. The food was substantially better, too.

At first he had gorged himself; stuffed his hollow face until it all came back up again. His stomach was so small that he would vomit after just a couple of bites; but he couldn't stop himself so he let the cycle continue. There was never a question of the food being poisoned – someone who worked that hard to keep Roman alive wouldn't just give up all their hard work and poison him. No, that would have been too easy.

The years spent torturing him, bringing him to the edge of death and carefully avoiding any spots that were sure to end his life – the guy was aware. He knew what he was doing. Something as simple as poison was too easy for him; too offending.

But as the weeks continued and the trays of food never stopped or strayed, Roman learned to pace himself and eat only what he could handle. He was kept just starved enough to be too weak to escape, but his stamina slowly built and he felt better day by day and it terrified him. In a hell such as this one change could only mean one thing.

Something worse was coming.

He had tried to deny the food once. So terrified of what was next to come that he refused to take another bite – so it was shoved down his throat and he was given an option – eat willingly or suffer through the next winter alone, with no bed, no blanket, and no clothes.

So he ate and he grew increasingly scared, learning to fear again each day worse than before.

"Mr. Stark, if I may –"

"Jesus Christ, Parker – call me Tony." Amusement flashed in his dark eyes as he stood across the counter from his old protégé, a gentle laugh leaving his aged appearance.

A sheepish smile came over Peter's face as he offered Tony a beer. "Right. Sorry." He opened his own and took a desperate gulp, gently closing the refrigerator door and standing opposite Tony behind the kitchen island. "Old habits die hard, I, uh, guess."

Tony let out another small burst of laughter, raising his beer to the young man before him and taking a sip. His gaze wandered about the upscale New York apartment, a small bout of pride climbing into his heart. "You've got yourself a good place here, kid. I'm impressed." Peter became ecstatic – he had always valued Tony's opinions above all others. Even throughout all the years Peter still sought Tony's validation above all others. At first Tony had hated it; he wasn't worth looking up to. Maybe people saw him as a hero or maybe they didn't – but Tony knew that, on the inside, he was worse than sin itself.

"Thanks Mr. Tony!" Peter's face reddened. "I mean Stark. I mean Tony!" He desperately looked away and chugged his beer.

Tony rolled his eyes at the kid. Peter had been his reason to suck it up and be an adult. He became the only constant man in the kid's life – a father figure. Aunt May didn't like it at first, and neither did Tony, but one day it just started to feel right. Looking at Peter now, knowing all he had suffered through and seeing all that he has accomplished, Tony was one proud father.

"Why'd you ring me up, Pete?" They had yet to discuss the haphazard phone call of the night, Peter's stuttering voice rambling aimlessly on the other line as Tony shut off his equipment and promised to be right over. He met Peter's gaze and raised an eyebrow, staring intently at him as he brought the beer to his lips.

Peter sighed and looked down at his fingers as they scratched the label off the glass bottle. He had to build himself up to meet Tony's powerful gaze but it finally happened.

"Why haven't you told anyone about Pepper?"

Tony's jaw set. His eyes narrowed instinctively but then he sighed – it's Peter. "How'd you find out?"

"Well, I was kind of clueless about the whole thing. Then MJ brought up the idea and I did some digging." He was quick to reassure Tony, "Don't worry! I don't think anyone else has a clue."

Tony drew in a long breath and tapped a melody on the countertop. "We'll be fine." It was a reassurance to himself. "We've been through worse. We'll make it through this." Except maybe they wouldn't – Peter had been around for many Tony and Pepper fights – Tony had never looked more unsure about their relationship.

"So you haven't signed the papers?" It was time for Tony to build his famous walls. He straightened, gulped the beer and adjusted his coat.

"Of course not; we're fine. Little lover's spat; you know how it goes." He gave a grin that could fool anyone. But Peter wasn't anyone. He was family.

"If – if Carly ever needs a place to stay…" Peter trailed off as the apartment door opened. They both followed the noise with their eyes, watching as a very young and very pregnant woman waddled into the living room.

"Stark." She greeted him calmly, putting her hands on her hips and nodding to Peter. "Why's he here?"

"Michelle," Tony greeted back with a smirk, "My, aren't we radiant." They shared a tense gaze before Michelle snorted and plopped down on the couch.

"Peter, make him leave," she whined playfully, rubbing her stomach unconsciously as she turned on the television. Peter grinned ear to ear, watching her with love in his eyes. He turned back to Tony.

"Seriously. We can watch her any time." MJ looked over the couch cushions with a curious gaze.

"Are we talking about Carly?" She looked at Tony and nodded. "Man, I love that girl. Bring her over – Peter's going to need some help watching the baby when he comes out." She patted her stomach. "Momma needs a vacation."

Tony smiled warmly down at the photo in front of him; new parents Peter and MJ in the hospital with their fresh out of the womb little boy. Benjamin Edward Parker – God, poor kid. What a mouthful. He placed the photo back in the box and set the box on the ground. Who would name a kid after me?

The answer was obvious; Peter Parker would. Tony chuckled to himself and reached for another box. He hadn't been down in the house's workshop in years. And the last time he was, well, he was boxing everything up. Ready to move it all to the facility. Eventually he just forgot about it and no one else ever came down here so it all sat and the dust layer slowly grew.

His hand found another picture frame. He brought it out and his smile slowly dropped. The most beautiful woman Tony had ever seen smiled up at him behind the glass. Her fiery red hair was curled and loose around her shoulders, her dress blue and tight. The most amazing blue eyes took his breath away and refused to give it back. Pepper Potts. Tony sighed and put the picture down. Words rung in his brain and threatened to break his sanity. 'I've been telling Carly she's at business meetings.'

Tony rubbed his jaw, the intense prickly feeling of his unshaven face raw and itchy against his touch. His eyes were red and swollen from time spent alone crying, his hair disheveled and matted. As he stood there, one hand over his mouth and body leaning against a worktable, he couldn't help but feel like a complete and utter failure. Where did I go wrong?

Carly wasn't used to her father being home. She wasn't used to them not talking, or more realistically, screaming. The lights were on in the basement – his workshop – and she could vividly remember the last time he had walked down those steps so many years ago. Before he had abandoned her, abandoned the family, and left her to rot here alone.

The car ride home had been silent. Tony had marched her right out of the building as soon as he had found her, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside and away from the ensuing madness of confused Avengers and worried parents. Not a single word had been spoken. When they got home he slammed his car door shut and went into the basement, leaving a small, sad Carly to sit alone in the car.

They had gone to bed without dinner. Tony didn't come back up. Even now he remained down there as Carly stood at the top of the staircase, fearfully looking down the steps for any sign of her absent father.

She didn't feel hungry but her stomach rumbled. She clutched at it, taking a tentative step downwards. The first of many. The cold metal stairs were harsh against her feet as she begged herself to be brave and dared venture down more. At the bottom she paused, listening intently for any signs of movement, of life. Nothing but an eerie silence hung in the air.

She stepped off the final step, her brown gaze wildly looking around. She had never been allowed down there as a child. Sure, she had snuck in once or twice, but even after he and Pepper left she stayed clear. Nothing good ever came from this room, anyway. There was nothing it could offer her except gloom and despair.

She turned the corner, swiping her finger across the wall as she walked and creating a thin line of clarity amongst the dust. Looking up she saw him, his back turned to her as he sat slumped over in an old stool. She swallowed.

"Dad?" She saw his shoulders move, and slowly his body turned to face her. He got up off the stool – Tony Stark always stood up when he had something important to say – and stood in front of her not ten feet away.

"We're gonna clear something up, right here, right now," his words were like frozen steel, unwanted and harsh to her ears. The burning sensation of new tears pricked the back of her eyes as she gazed sorrowfully up at the omnipotent man.

"I'm sorry," she said lamely, but his eyes flashed.

"No, you don't get to talk – I'm talking." He swiped a hand at her for emphasis and suddenly Carly wasn't talking to her father. She was talking to Tony Stark; Avenger, billionaire, and hollowed soul. Someone who had been through so much and Carly never once stopped to think about it. His words were filled with such strong emotion that she started to cry before he really said anything. Tony didn't seem apologetic.

"I am your father. I'm not your friend, I'm not your babysitter, and I'm not some douche-bag dumbass you can just piss off without any consequences." He glared at her. "You and me? We're done. That's it, no more of this shit you've been pulling for the last forever. You hear me?" He pointed harshly at her, and even though he couldn't physically reach her, she felt it in her heart.

"I don't have time to sit here and explain my life's story to you. I did what I did to raise you for my own reasons and whether you like it or not; I don't care. You don't get to go and blame me anymore; I've had enough of that for a lifetime. I have been through more shit than you could ever believe – you think a little attitude and some parties are going to change that? You can wish all you want for a different father, a different life, but that's all it is – wasted time wishing for something you can never have. You're stuck with me, kid, and that's just how it is. You don't like it? Tough shit."

Her lip wavered. She sucked in a breath and wiped at her face, smearing the tears into her skin. Tony didn't stop – he didn't even pause.

"I've apologized, I've pissed and moaned and complained but I've never done anything, and that's on me. I get it – I get why you hate me, I really do. You're just like me, and I know that it's my fault, and God damn I know I messed up somewhere. I've been trying to figure out where, but I just can't." Tony finally paused for a breath, running a hand through his greying hair and shaking his head at her. "Carly, this was something else. I don't – I can't…" he let the end of his sentence hang loose, his eyes crackling with sadness as he took her in.

"I don't like making you cry. It seems about all I'm good for."

She took a step forward. "Dad-"

He shook his head and turned away, making her choke on air and let out a sob.

"You crossed a line yesterday. You endangered your friends and family for selfish reasons." She went to talk, to defend herself, to do anything, when his harsh glare made the words get stuck in her throat. "I know you did it for me; that's what you tell yourself. And I'd be honored, I almost am, if I didn't realize how incredibly stupid you had been. You're irresponsible, immature, and incredibly selfish. You put the lives of everybody in danger because you couldn't just fucking wait for the adults to handle it."

He turned back to her, taking a few steps forward. He was close enough for her to touch, but he had never looked so far away.

"The sad thing is; I've done things just as bad, if not worse. And I know what comes next – but you don't." His eyes bore into hers, unforgiving and alien. "You've broken my trust." The words hit her like a sledge hammer.

"You'll be staying with Peter and his family until I can fix your mess and we can figure out what to do next."

The stars were a painted miracle above their heads. They sat shoulder to shoulder, legs dangling off the cliff and floating in the air below them.

"So, he's kicking you out?" Ozur's tone was angry and disbelieving. Carly had just stopped crying but she feared she would start again any second.

"I deserve it." Her words were a spoken whisper, her breaths cracking and breaking and altogether weak. He scoffed at her.

"The guy doesn't know what he's talking about. He's not there as a father figure your entire life and now he just throws you out because he realizes he can't cage you in any longer. It's pathetic." Carly shook her head at him.

"Ozur, stop. It's not like that."

"That's exactly what it's like and you know it." It was a harsh tone, his words like ice as he looked at her with dark humor. "And look at you; still so oblivious and mind-controlled by that freak."

"My father it a lot of things but he is not a freak!" Carly moved to get up – to be anywhere but next to him—when she felt him grab her hand.

"My apologies," his tone had calmed significantly. His words were now smooth and flowed slowly like honey. Carly gazed at him blankly. His hand felt unwelcomingly cold in her own.

"I know he is your father, and perhaps he does mean well, but – he has no right!" Carly pursed her lips. He has every right.

She slipped her hand away from his. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Ozur's pale skin glowed like pure silver in the moon's soft glow. His raven hair hung loosely around his face in fallen strands as he stared intensely at her with his sea green eyes. Carly felt unnaturally uncomfortable, but she didn't have anyone else. It was Ozur or the loneliness of her room – and she had suffered too long by taking that option.

Suddenly, his face smiled. Like a shimmering façade the anger in his eyes transformed into placid calm and his gaze turned upward to the skies. "Let me take your mind off it. I want to tell you a story."

Carly watched him for several moments before copying him and gazing up into the stars. "What's it about?" When he didn't answer she turned towards him, surprised to see how entranced he was with the beauty above. His father's up there, she realized suddenly, no one knows where, but he's there. She watched as his eyes looked from star to star, searching for something they both knew he could never find. She wondered if he knew he was doing it.

"Ozur?" His lips pressed firmly together as she broke his trance.

"It's a wonderful story I've picked up through the years. Before your time, and certainly before mine, before there was only darkness and the elves; there was the Creator."

When Carly had ran up the stairs and out of the house yet again, Tony had done nothing to stop her. He simply watched her fleeing form as she tried desperately to get away from him. It was fine, either way; he knew she was just going up to the hill. Any other given day he might have chased after her, but not this time. He couldn't.

He sat folded over in an old wheeled chair, gently pushing himself back and forth as he poured another glass of whisky. His thumb traced the rim steadily, his eyes finding solace in its amber contents. The burning feeling of it in his throat eased the harsh pain in his heart.

It was as he stared, longing for simpler times, that he nodded his head. "Yup. Seems about right." He downed the alcohol and poured some more.

"Mr. Stark, incoming call from Steve Rogers." FRIDAY's voice was an unwelcome interruption to Tony's pity party as he straightened up and was forced to put the glass down.

"Answer it."

There was an automated click and then Steve's strong voice on the other line. "Tony? Where are you?"

"I'm home Rogers, where are you?" Tony leaned over and picked up a screwdriver, grabbing a half-finished project from years ago and tinkering with it idly. It was an old idea he had for the suit, something about electro-absorption and stronger boosters for quick liftoff.

"Tony, this isn't funny. We need you at the facility."

Tony rolled his eyes and pried the metal apart, lifting it to his face to inspect the wiring. "Oh, I'm sorry, was I laughing?"

Steve sighed. "Tony." The screwdriver slipped and Tony slammed his hands down on the table, swiping everything off of it in one swift movement. There was silence from the other end. Tony took his seat again, unaware of when he had stood up. He cradled his head in his hands, letting out a long breath through his nose.

"Tony, this isn't the time to reflect on mistakes." Steve's voice was soft yet strong; a warning that he wasn't about to put up with Tony's games. The joke was on him, however – Tony was not playing around.

"This isn't time to give me parenting lessons, Rogers." Tony spoke lowly with all the venom in the world. His eyes opened fluidly, blank and emotionless.

"I'll be right there." He didn't give Steve any time to reply as he snapped to get FRIDAY's attention. "End call." The call was terminated just as Steve was beginning to protest, his voice fading into nothingness and leaving Tony once more in complete silence. He let out a loud breath, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. His gaze traveled around the room one final time; on all the boxes and forgotten projects, the face down pictures and rancid memories. His hand reached for his jacket and he was quick up the stairs and out of the house without another look back.

Carly watched his car leave from the cliff. She sniffled, silently wiping the sadness away with her shaking fingers as she waited for Ozur to begin his story.

"The story begins as it should; with two lovers." Her gaze slowly turned to him as his strong words entered reality, leaning against the rock and watching his sharp features as his eyes remained trained on the sky and his mouth recited the story from memory.

"Ageless in time they awoke into existence together and that's all there seemingly was, for eons. It didn't take them long to fall in love, for when there is no other option, for the sake of future existence, two lonely souls must endure together; suffer together. They only knew each other because there were only each other – or so it seemed. Imagine it, Carly; no lightness, no darkness, just two people alone and scared and unable to die. Except the boy - he was never scared. He constantly reassured her, told her that as long as they were together, they would be fine. You see, he was a logical man – he knew they had nothing to fear because, in all the vast loneliness that they lived in, that was it. Simple, pure, nothingness. Yet she was afraid.

"What does that tell you – even before time itself there was fear. Eventually his words were not enough to console her frightened heart. She wanted protection – she wanted control. She feared the nothingness surrounding them so she created something. She created the light, and she created the dark. She forged the stars and let there be skies to put them in. The man stuck by her all this time, watching as he slowly became not enough for her and she cast him aside."

Tony bent down on one knee to pick up a broken piece of the machine. It was incredible – whatever was on the other side had shattered Vibranium. The jagged edge poked out at him like a knife, ready to strike and kill.

"What's the damage?" He asked the others behind him, his face grim as they all stood out of his way and watched like incompetent bystanders. Not that they could have done anything here – Tony was the only one capable of assessing anything until T'Challa got back with his own verdict. Tony's mind sparked. Maybe there was one other person…

"We've checked the surveillance cams," Natasha reported, "They go fuzzy milliseconds before the actual attack happens." Tony nodded his head, grabbing another piece. The lines where it broke were cleaner than glass – not a frayed end or split cut in sight.

"The lights were flicking, though," she continued, crossing her arms.

"Get to the point, Romanoff," Tony chided her, pushing himself off of the ground and inspecting the lights. The glass crunched under his feet with every step. Carly had been here.

"We think it was a lightning strike." Tony looked incredulously at her.

"I'm sorry?" He raised his eyebrows – had he really heard her correctly?

She rolled her eyes at him. "Obviously not just a regular strike, Tony, we think there's someone on the other side with powers."

"Someone strong enough to break Vibranium?" Tony asked, watching as everyone's faces grew more and more concerned. "Not even Thor can do that."

"He began to grow fearful as well. If she did not need him anymore then what was the point of it all? Suddenly they were not alone – the two only living souls, perhaps, but he had heard her yearning to change that. He tried to console her, to rest her beating heart – like the old days – but her frantic mind would not let her soul rest.

"She claimed to do it for him. She loved him; she truly did, but she loved the power that came with making things and controlling them even more. She was blind in that aspect, and could not see that she was creating her own fate; her own story that could never have a happy ending."

"Our kids are over there." Sharon's hidden panic flared the same emotion within everyone else. When Tony had arrived it was all business – no one said anything about Carly less they wanted a war. So they had let the tension slowly build and now it broke as easily as an egg. Everyone's eyes fell on Tony.

"Sasha and Shay are over there too. Where is his daughter?" Tony didn't try to defend Carly, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stand by and let them blame her.

"MJ picked her up last night," Peter's soft voice showed that he stood with Tony. He would always stand with Tony. He nodded his head.

"Right. So while you all want to go and pin this on Scarlett – yes, that's a familiar scene, isn't it?" He glared at Steve, slowly turning his gaze to his friends and accusing them one by one. "When something goes wrong it must be because of a Stark. We're the only ones capable of making mistakes."

One by one they all dropped their gazes.

"In case you hadn't noticed, all your precious children were already in the room when Carly got there. Yea, she pulled the lever – but it was going to happen with or without her. Don't you dare put this all on her – your children were the brilliant ones to come up with this hell-hole of a plan; where is your blame for them?"

"It's dangerous over there," Peter added, sharing a secret look filled with everything in the world with Tony. "We need to table our differences and come together again, one last time, as a team."

"One day the Creator woke up – that's what she had branded herself. Eons of nothing, not even names, so she had created one for herself. She woke up and her beloved was no longer there. No note, no sign of his absence, no nothing. She went wild; she created people and worlds for them to live on so she would not be lonely. She created gods and monsters and unholy sites but it wasn't the same; they all feared her.

"He had taken to traveling her vast expanse of creation, admiring and fearing her dark work. He tried it himself, to create something marvelous and bring a little peace to her chaos. But he could not. You see, all he could manage was to create a portal, but he himself could not walk through it so he had no telling of where it went. He spent his days alone and trapped in his beloved's creation.

"Until her met her. And it was a profound thing. He thought he had been alone – having suffered through nothing with no one but the Creator – but she didn't have a creator. She had been there since the beginning as well, blinked into existence so unbelievably far away from him and the Creator that she had no hopes of every finding them. One day she had woken up to planets and stars and life. She had deiced to explore this new curiosity, when their eyes had met. It was like nothing ever before experienced; the first case of true love. They vowed to be together forever, to always love and to always be loved. And they day they did create something new; a bond forged in time itself. They were married by the next morning."

"Carly will go over in the morning. She'll help MJ watch your little rug-rats and Winter. Don't let MJ go easy on her – especially now that she's pregnant again – make sure she makes Carly do all the heavy lifting."

"Tony, calm down," Peter's laugh echoed in the hallways as the two talked privately. "She'll be fine; she loves Ben and Athena. MJ will make sure everything's alright." Tony smiled briefly.

"Congratulations, by the way. I can barely handle one; how's upcoming number three treating you?"

Peter gave a genuine smile. "I couldn't be happier, Mr. Stark." Tony nodded his head – he could see the honesty in Peter's excited eyes.

"The creator grew anguished in her perpetual superiority, but she refused to destroy anything she had made. Instead, she let her civilizations thrive and let them be in relative peace. She realized her mistake, reminded herself of what she had lost, and went looking for him. Imagine her surprise to find him with another woman – another woman whom she hadn't created. It broke something inside of her that day, something deep down snapped and she became vengeful. She vowed to kill the other woman if he did not return as the Creator's lover, but he refused. Until death do us part, he declared to the Creator, shielding his wife and escaping with her from immediate danger.

"But the Creator would not rest. She vowed to chase them to the ends of all she had created. It was her promise to them that his wife would die, and he would return to her and they could go back to being lovers for all eternity. Her chase never ceased. Generation upon generation of her creations below began to span across the universe until it spiraled out of control. The man and his wife grew increasingly tired – and he realized that the Creator meant it, and she would never stop. So he left his wife one night, kissed her forehead as she slept, and brought with him a knife to meet his doom. But the Creator was too clever; she saw the attack coming before he even planned to strike. She caged him, vowing that he would remain in jail for as long as it took for him to love her again – they had all the time in existence. But, because he was there and his wife was not, the Creator vowed to stop hunting her and let her live her life in peace, far away from them both.

"But the wife would not rest. She had vowed to be with her husband for all eternity, and that's exactly how it was going to be. She was careful, waiting centuries for the perfect time to strike. Then, when the time was right, she crept past the Creator's watchful gaze one night – she had always been blind when it came to the man; call it love – and set him free. However, it wasn't enough for her. Despite his begging, his promise that he knew a place they could hide far away, she knew that they could never rest until the Creator was dead. So she attacked her in her sleep, but the Creator was too clever. Though the wife managed to scar the Creator's face, she was bested and the only thing that kept her alive was the man's love and the knife digging into his heart."

"I'll be going to Wakanda to see T'Challa. He's already working on another proto-type; I'll save him the trouble of coming here." Tony had made up his mind. Natasha bit her lip and Steve gave a huff but didn't say anything.

"Alright, I'll say it," Sam spoke up from the back, rubbing his arm distractedly. "What are we supposed to do while you're gone? It's not like any of us know quantum mechanics or anything."

"It's not exactly quantum mechanics – not the point," Tony restrained himself. He looked around the room, looking expectantly at people. "Really? No one else you can think of?"

Everyone was silent.

"Tony? Is there someone you're not telling us about?" Natasha quirked an eyebrow. Tony narrowed his eyes at her.

"Guys, come on. Just call Bruce over."

"He killed himself?" Carly asked wildly, her eyes wide and bright with astonishment. Ozur chuckled and shook his head.

"Just listen to the story." She nodded enthusiastically.

"The man told the Creator that she would not kill his wife, unless he was to die as well. With every move she made to take his wife's live, he dug the knife deeper into his skin. It was then that the Creator realized he truly did love his wife more than she; and it did not make her happy. Realizing they were at a stalemate, she could not bear to lose him and he refused to live a day without his wife, she devised a clever plan. She split her creations into separate dimensions, each one similar to each other but otherwise completely different.

"She said she knew where his portal would take him, but she would not give him the answer. She also said that he could not travel through his portal without the keystone; his wife. The man felt stupid; he had never tried that before. When he wondered why the Creator was telling him all of this, she wanted to explain to him that it was because she wanted him, the Betrayer, to live the rest of eternity knowing that, had he simply tried, he could have avoided this all.

"She threw his wife, the destroyer of happiness, into a dimension. When the Betrayer went to follow, the Creator blocked his path. 'No,' she told him, 'I have a special place for you.' And she threw him into a separate dimension. She placed a curse on them that day; they would live as humans among different dimensions, born each life yearning for each other but now knowing why or where they were. Each death would lead to them being born on a different planet, in a different dimension for all eternity.

"What the creator did not know was that the Betrayer cast a curse on her that day as well. If he was to live his life without his soulmate, unable to permanently die, then she would be stuck in the darkness of her own creation for all eternity. Unable to escape, she would be confined to darkness, only able to watch over her creations, until the end of time."

"Tony…" Natasha looked at him with more emotion than he could ever remember her having. He looked around; they were all watching him carefully.

"What?" He demanded, making Peter flinch beside him.

"The dude's been missing since Thanos," Sam reminded him, and Tony went numb. How had he forgotten? Tony shook his head.

"Yea, but…" His face contorted as he fought for control. Wasn't someone else missing, too?

Carly could only stare with wide eyes. "Wow." It seemed lame next to the wonderful story she had just been told. Ozur turned to her with a smile.

"Does it end? Just like that?" She wondered, her soul looking at him through her eyes, grasping at any closure he could offer. He merely smiled kindly at her.

"The legend states that, when it is time for the Creator to die, the Betrayer and his wife will be born on the same planet, in the same dimension."

Carly hummed. "I like that story. It's dark and creepy – not at all comforting."

"And yet you like it?"

She nodded, gazing into the distant trees below them.

"Yea – it's sweet. Two people who would do anything for love; it's not their fault someone else's jealousy got between them."

Ozur nodded in understanding. "It was my favorite story as a child – I loved to sit and listen to my teachers tell it." Carly leaned back into the grass and closed her eyes.

"I wish it was real."