It was a few days after that Saturday that things in Stark Tower began to get…strange. Not that things weren't usually strange in the household, but this strange was an entirely different kind of strange.
Things began to move. More specifically, things were moving and none of the occupants nor the 'bots Tony created were responsible for their movement. At first, it was small things, small things only Tony noticed, like his expresso machine was moved exactly one inch to the left.
He thought nothing of it and moved it back, his OCD forcing him to right the wrong made by someone who probably shouldn't have been touching his expresso machine in the first place. He collected his caffeinated treat and then returned to his lab.
In his lab, his wrench set was moved, again, exactly one inch to the left. He frowned at it, and wrote it off as U. U was always moving things to clean, and while he usually put things back exactly where he had found them, sometimes his optics needed recalibrating.
When he cracked open U's coding, however, he found that someone had already beat him to it, and installed the fresh updates that had been sitting on his work table some feet away. He frowned.
"JARVIS, did you install U's new updates?" he asked.
"I did not, Sir," JARVIS answered back in his cool, collected voice. Tony frowned harder.
"Was it Peter?" he demanded. While he would be angry with his son for messing with his 'bots without him present, it was a less frightening prospect than anything his mind was currently contemplating.
"Master Peter has not been home since last night," the AI answered, and Tony felt a knot of cold dread settle in his stomach.
"Do you know who installed the updates then?" he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I…I am afraid I cannot explain this phenomenon, Sir," JARVIS said, an uncharacteristic catch in his normally robotic and dry voice. Tony gulped and shook his head.
He looked deeper into U's coding, seeing that the updates had been installed at three in the morning that day, a few moments after Tony had slumped, defeated by exhaustion, and about twenty minutes before Steve had come down and carried him to bed.
"Bring up the security feed in the lab for three in the morning," he commanded, and JARVIS did as he was asked. Tony watched himself slump at his workbench, watched his chest rise and fall with soft snores and watched as the papers and update chips in front of him started to move of their own accord.
U was charging in his little corner, but as the papers and chips started moving, he lifted his claw and optic attachment and whirred softly, in just the way he would if someone had called his name. Tony watched, incredulous, as U whirred some more and unplugged himself and rolled over to Tony. His jaw dropped as he watched U's coding panel slide open on its own –he'd designed all his bots so that they could only open those panels with someone else's help- and he made a strangled noise as the update chips floated over and attached themselves neatly into U's USB ports and upload all the data, and then detach and return to the table near Tony. Making a little satisfied whir, U returned to his charging station, and a few moments later, Steve entered and collected video Tony.
"Okay. Okay. Stranger things have happened," Tony muttered.
"I would have to beg to differ, Sir," JARVIS said mildly. There was an edge to his computerized voice, and another video feed was brought up, this one time stamped for four thirty in the morning. It was Steve and Tony's room on one side, the other side of the entrance to their room.
"JARVIS, what does this-"
"Just watch, Sir," the AI said, and something in the way he said it made Tony shut up and watch.
The movement started at their door, with the light blue flashes that accompanied someone punching in their security code for the door…there was no one standing in front of the door, however, and when the door opened, no one walked through, though it closed after a moment, as if someone had gone through.
Tony gulped as his focus switched to the view to the sleeping forms of himself and Steve, swallowing hard as he watched their bed dip, the imprint of a knee and a hand rather obvious as they were made. He and Steve shifted, drawing apart slightly, just as they had when…but no, this was nothing like it.
The imprint of another person on the bed was clear, but neither Tony nor Steve woke; in fact, both of them seemed to relax more. The quiet sound of their breathing became obvious, and Tony knew JARVIS had enhanced the audio for a reason. That reason became shatteringly obvious when the voice spoke.
"Tony," it said. "Steve."
The billionaire's heart stopped. He quit breathing. He felt faint, dizzy and he thought he was going to vomit. This wasn't possible. Things like this didn't happen. Things like this weren't possible. And yet, the proof was staring him in the eye.
That was Bruce's voice, is the last thing he thinks before he passes out.
X0x0x0x0X
Peter was in excruciating pain. Not the physical kind, no. That would be considerably easier to deal with than this…this soul-crushing happening. It was unfair. He felt shaky, his palms were sweaty and he felt like he was going to cry.
"No," he whimpered, holding the broken pieces of George in his hands. "No, you're okay buddy. I'm gonna get you home and get you fixed, okay?" he whispered, caressing the cracked screen of his first and favorite laptop.
"Dude, chill out. It's just a computer," Harry said, his eyes still furrowed in concerned and Peter turned on him, fist shaking.
"You! You shut up! This is your fault!" he hissed at his friend, his blue eyes flashing green for a moment. He had never inherited Bruce's little green problem, but his eyes did change color when he got exceptionally upset. The death of his laptop was one such occasion that managed to get him riled enough to smash something…or someone.
"Just don't even say anything Harry. I'm going home before I give in to the urge to smash your computers up," he said, angrily gathering up the remains of George and shoving them in his bag. He stormed out of the Osborn Manor, making his way to his bright green Volkswagen Bug, slamming the door to the thing with much more force than necessary. He was absolutely incensed, and he wanted his dad. Only the billionaire would be to truly understand the depth of hurt Peter was feeling.
He raced home, still fuming, and stomped up the twenty flights of stairs up Stark Tower, trying to blow off some of the steam that had built up in him.
Seriously, where was a super villain when you needed one?
Peter really wanted to smash something.
The teen stormed through his living area, throwing his bag and shoes around with little regard, and then made his way, barefoot, to his dads lab.
"Daaaad, I need you to help me fix…whoa, what's going on?" Peter asked, his petty sadness and anger forgotten as he caught the looks on his parents faces as they huddled over a holoscreen. The two super heroes regarded their son with drawn, pale faces.
"Should we tell him?" Steve questioned softly, making Peter's eyebrows draw up in consternation.
"We might as well. It sort of involves him," Tony said tiredly, and beckoned Peter over. He looked at the screen and saw what looked like security footage, time stamped for the previous evening. Peter almost asked what this was about, but decided just to watch the footage.
A few minutes later, Peter looked just as pale and drawn as his parents. He swallowed a few times, and looked at his parents.
"Was that…was that Bruce's voice?" he asked softly. They nodded simultaneously, and Peter had to sit down on a nearby stool.
"What...what does this mean?" he questioned softly. Tony shrugged and Steve just shook his hand.
"We don't know…but we think…we think we must have a ghost," Steve said, and Peter nodded dumbly. That made…as much sense as anything else.
"Well," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's go with it."
X0x0x0x0X
Bruce was cold, but that was familiar. Cold was good. Cold meant that the Trini were far away from wherever he was, and that was always a plus. He shivered slightly in his fur coat, wondering why, again, that he couldn't figure out the ingredients needed to get back home.
"You're over thinking it, Grenil," came the soft voice of the witch who had taken him in when he had escaped the Trini. He sighed in frustration, throwing down the basil leaves he had been toying with into the cauldron, smiling with a vicious satisfaction when the liquid in the pot went from shimmering blue to a dark, sludge like green.
"You keep telling me that, but I don't know what I'm overthinking!" he snarled, jerking when her cool hand touched his shoulder. She chuckled softly, her blue eyes glowing in the dim light of the potion room.
"You cast your spirit out into their realm, did you not?" Selendryl questioned softly and Bruce sighed softly, running a hand through his mostly-grey hair.
"Yes," he said, smiling softly at the memory. He'd been little more than a specter with his lovers, but it had been magical…
"And what led you there?"
"I…I remembered what it was like, to lay with them. To be loved…" he said, remembering the catalyst memory that had thrown him into the world he had come from.
Selendryl waved her hand over his cauldron, making the gross sludge disappear and he sighed. "Perhaps, then, what you need is an anchor. If you have an anchor in the other world, moving your physical body and soul will be easier," the witch said with a smile, and Bruce returned the expression, possibilities flooding his brain.
There was no science in this world; it was medieval, harsh and people died more than they lived. But there was magic, and once he had escaped the grip of the Trini, he had immersed himself in the practice. It was similar to his science in that it had rules and limitless possibilities.
It had taken three years to escape the Trini and fourteen years to get to this point in his life, but he was finally close to getting back.
He was going home.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait, loves. I hope you don't want to kill me too much. Reviews are drugs and good things come to those who wait so…hang in there.