He had always expected that if he were ever to see Seftis again, that if he were ever to return, guns blazing and fire raging in fury and vengeance – that Peter would fall to his knees in terror and fear; that he would feel the same terror and fear that he had felt at watching his friends – at watching Clint, and Bruce, and Tony – be murdered in front of his eyes. Be murdered only feet away, their blood practically falling into his hands.
He was terrified, and he was filled completely with fear. His heart was pounding so fast in his chest that it actually hurt, and his muscles were pulled so taut that it felt as though the merest movement would snap them apart.
But he was still standing. Somehow, he was still standing.
He wasn't on his knees. Not yet.
"Who are you?" Tony asked loudly, breaking the silence that had settled around them. His tone was angry, betraying what Peter had long since learned to be fear.
And he was right to be afraid. Because Peter didn't think he had ever met someone like Seftis; someone who was able to kill others so quickly, to irrevocably change your life forever, before you even had the chance to blink.
Seftis' eyes stayed on Peter a moment longer, before drifting over to Tony. He smiled. "I'm an old friend of Peter's," he answered lightly, folding his hands in front of him. "We go a long ways back, him and I."
"Peter?" Tony questioned. Peter could feel the man's eyes on him, wondering why on earth, of all people, Seftis had mentioned him.
But Peter could barely pay any attention to Tony and what he must be thinking. It was all he could do right now to stay where he was, and not turn tail and run.
"What the hell do you want with him?" Tony spat. "He's just a homeless kid from the city. I, however, in case you haven't noticed, am Tony Stark – also known as Iron Man? If you want someone to go after, I think you'll find I'm the better fight."
Even now, Tony was trying to deter Seftis' attention from Peter to himself. He was trying to remove Peter from the cross-hairs, even though he barely knew him. It was so incredibly typical of him, to jump in the line of fire before anyone else could get hurt.
And Peter had never hated him more for it.
"Oh, don't you worry my dear man," Seftis replied, "you and I will be having a chat soon. Very soon. But for the moment, I would like to talk to Peter. He and I have a lot of catching up to do."
Seftis walked forward until he was standing only a few feet in front of Peter, towering over him. "You didn't answer my question, child. How have you been these last two years? Have you been… keeping busy?" His lip twitched in a smile.
Peter said nothing. He couldn't say anything. He was frozen – he was terrified. This was the man he had been trying to avoid for two years, the man he had lived every day in fear of seeing.
For a while, he had begun to wonder whether he had ever been real in the first place. Their time together had been so short, the decision he'd had to make was so fast – he sometimes wondered whether he hadn't simply imagined it all; if he truly was Peter Parker, son of Richard and Mary, nephew of Ben and May, an enhanced human who was part of a team filled with superheroes – or whether he was actually just a homeless schizophrenic, who'd imagined such a crazy and ridiculous life as a means of having a reason to wake up every day.
"A little tongue-tied, I see. Well it's no bother, no bother at all. People have a tendency to lose the use of their tongues when in my presence." His smile pulled into a grin.
Peter stared into Seftis' yellowed eyes, trying not to look away. Was he going to kill him? Was this the punishment for breaking their deal? Well if that were to be the case, then he was ready. He'd been ready for two years now. He was terrified, yes; but he was also ready. In fact, he wished Seftis had only done it a lot sooner.
As though reading his mind, Seftis tilted his head curiously and said, "You want to die, don't you?" He stared a moment longer. "Interesting."
Peter said nothing.
The two men stared at each other for a moment longer, before Seftis suddenly lifted his head back and smiled. "Don't worry, my dear child. We will have plenty of time to talk, you and I. Eventually. For now, I have more pressing matters that I must take care of." With his last words Seftis turned, and began walking away.
And headed towards Tony.
The adrenaline started rushing through Peter anew, and suddenly the dam that had held his tongue broke, and a tidal wave of words came rushing forth. "What are you doing?!"
Seftis didn't stop, and Peter's heart began to drop. "We – we had a deal. You said if I stayed away, if I didn't go near them that you would – that you leave them be! You said if I left them alone, so would you! We had a deal!"
Peter watched as Tony pressed the button against his hand to trigger the suit; he watched as Tony waited for the suit to envelop him within the safety of its iron armor and unrivaled tech.
He watched as nothing happened.
Seftis came to a stop in front of Tony, who took a step back before trying to take a swing towards Seftis' face. Just as his fist was about to make contact, however, he froze. His eyes still moved and his muscles still twitched, but otherwise he was as still as a statue.
"You're right, we did have a deal," Seftis said, raising his hand to brush away a fallen strand of Tony's hair. "But you broke it."
Peter jerked forward, panic rushing through his veins. "No, I didn't!"
"You're here, are you not? With the Avengers. Exactly where I told you not to be. Exactly where I thought we had agreed you would never go."
"But I didn't mean to! I didn't – I stayed away from them, I stayed away from all of them! I never tried to find them, I never tried to tell them what happened – they found me!"
"And how did they find you? Because you chose to help one of theirs in need? When you chose to get involved with their affairs, when you should have known better to simply stay away."
"He would have died if I hadn't helped, that woman would have died, I couldn't –."
"Yes, you could have," Seftis snapped, his head jerking towards Peter, his eyes narrowed. "You were certainly able to stay away from every other human that needed your help these last two years. Men and women being mugged and raped, beaten and attacked – you ran from them all!" His eyes raked Peter up and down, a contemptuous grin pulling at his lips. "You certainly put your life as the Amazing Spider-Man well behind you, didn't you?"
A flicker of anger sparked within him, and Peter clenched his teeth as he bit back his tongue. Not that he could really say anything in response, anyway. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't exactly defend himself from the accusation.
Because he was right. He had completely put his life from Before into the past; if he had still had his suit at the time, he would have burned it. He had done everything he could to join the rest of the Avengers in forgetting who he was, who he had once been, all in the hopes of never having to return to that life ever again.
And look how well that turned out for him.
Seftis held Peter's gaze a moment longer, before turning back to Tony.
"But it doesn't matter. Not anymore."
Peter's eyes flickered between Seftis and Tony, trying to figure out exactly what the man was planning to do.
"So you're going to kill him?" Peter finally asked. "Just like you said you would. You're going to kill all of them. Well how about I do you one better – why not just kill me, instead? I'm the one that messed up, I'm the one that broke our deal – so just… just kill me. Leave them all alone, they never had anything to do with any of this in the first place. Just kill me instead, please."
"You think you're worth more than the rest of the Avengers, combined?" Seftis asked, raising an eyebrow. He held Peter's gaze for a long moment, before a small smile pulled at his lips and he shook his head. "Don't worry, Peter, I'm not here to kill your dear Mister Tony Stark. I know how close you two were, that he was practically a father to you. I would never be so cruel as to take that away from you."
Peter glared, his fingers twitching at his sides as they clenched into fists.
"No," Seftis continued, "I'm here for another reason entirely. You see, the man I thought had at least the wherewithal to carry out a simple order was not, in fact, as smart as I had initially believed him to be. He allowed a little spider to get in the way of doing his job, and now I'm the one left picking up the pieces. Shame. It really is difficult to find good help these days."
It took a second, a moment for all the pieces to click together and all the parts to fall into place, but quietly, bit by bit, understanding started to form.
"The Goblin," Peter said slowly. "Norman Osborn. That's… that's the man you're working with. The man who's working for you. You wanted him to take over Stark Industries, so he could… so he could dismantle the Avengers. Cripple them. Scatter them across the globe. Because when they're scattered, that will be the best time for… for…."
Seftis' lips pressed together, his face unreadable, as his fingers slowly fell from Tony's face and back down to his side. "Osborn has been running his mouth, I see. The man always had far too much pride than was good for him."
He looked back to Tony, who was still frozen mid-swing, but who was still very much conscious, his eyes strained and switching between Peter and Seftis as each one spoke.
Peter had suspected that Osborn was working with Seftis, he had suspected it ever since they'd spoken outside of Tony's tower; but he had never wanted to believe it. He'd preferred to believe that the Goblin was working entirely on his own, that Seftis was the last being in the world that he would be partnering with in the attempt to get rid of Tony and the Avengers.
But clearly, no matter how much Peter tried to deny it, the truth was now staring him right in the face.
And he was no longer sure he could breathe.
He had always wondered what Seftis had wanted, what his purpose was in attacking them, in wanting to try and kill everyone he knew and loved.
Well, now it was clear. Now he could see that, for whatever deranged, psychotic reason – Seftis wanted to control Stark Industries. And by controlling Stark Industries he could then control the Avengers, and by controlling the Avengers, he could then… he could then….
He could then, what?
What could he do?
He was pulled out of his thoughts as Seftis pulled back the sleeves of his jacket – it suddenly struck Peter that the man – the creature, whatever he was – was wearing an old, black, dressed up dinner jacket, as though he were some rich socialite going to a fancy luncheon, and how absolutely mad and messed up was that, and –
"Well I suppose that in the end, if you want a job done right, you must, as the old adage goes – do it yourself."
With those words Seftis stretched out his arm and, ever so delicately, placed his hand on Tony's face.
And Peter saw red.
The fear and terror that had been bubbling underneath his skin since Seftis had arrived suddenly burst and overflowed, and in the next second Peter was suddenly screaming, his feet tearing from the ground as he began running straight towards them. "No!"
He collided with Seftis, tackling into his side and sending them both crashing to the ground.
They struggled. Peter fought and kicked, trying to land something – anything; trying to fight in a mad scramble of tangled limbs and panicked frenzy.
His foot finally connected with something, and Peter heard a grunt. In the next second something hit his face and sent his neck snapping backwards, smacking his head against the ground.
Before Peter even had a chance to orient himself, a hand was suddenly at his neck, fingers wrapping around his throat and squeezing tight.
He struggled, clawing at Seftis' arms as the man shoved him further and further into the ground, but the man was like steel and would not move.
"You stupid, idiotic fool!" Seftis growled, glaring angrily into Peter' eyes. "You dare to think you can stand against me? When you know full well that I could end the lives of each of your Avengers, of each of your family and friends, just like that, and yet you still dare to take me on? You still try to stop me?!"
Peter pulled at Seftis' fingers, his eyes hot and stinging and chest burning as he fought for breath. Finally he managed to pull Seftis far enough away for his voice to speak.
"Then k-kill me," he managed to utter. "Just kill me and… and get it over with."
Seftis gripped Peter's throat tighter and began lifting him up, raising him higher and higher until his feet hung helplessly in the air, his entire weight now held against his neck. He began gasping, choking for air as his body desperately tried to breathe.
They stayed like that, for a few, long moments – staring into each others eyes, waiting. Waiting for the other to break, for the other to stop. Waiting for death to come.
Just kill me, Peter thought. It's over. You won, you psychotic piece of shit. You won. So just kill me already. Kill me and get it over with. Kill me like you should have done from the very start.
He can't kill you, a voice suddenly said. No matter how much he – or you – want him to, you cannot die by his hand.
Peter jerked, startled. His eyes snapped around as far as he could, trying to find where this new voice was coming from, but he could see no one.
You won't find me out there, I'm afraid. For there is only one place in which I now reside – and that place is you.
He was hallucinating. He had to be. It was the only answer that made any logical sense. Without oxygen, his brain was finally beginning to cease to function. Soon, he was sure, he would begin to see a white light. And perhaps, if he was lucky, he would see his parents and Uncle Ben, too.
I'm both sorry and happy to say that you won't be seeing neither your parents nor your uncle for a long, long time. You are so very young. You still have a long ways to go yet.
He was dying. He was dying, by the hand of the one person he feared the most – and this was how his mind was reacting. By conjuring up a phantom voice to comfort him, to make him believe that everything was all right. Soon it would be reciting a lullaby next, singing him into an everlasting sleep.
No, I'm afraid not. Whether you believe it or not, the truth remains that you are very much awake, and still very much alive.
Peter chose to ignore the voice. If he was going to die, then he'd rather go out at least pretending he was half-way sane.
Except… except that he wasn't dead yet. Seftis had been holding him in the air, cutting off his lungs for over a minute now. He hadn't taken a breath the entire time he was up here, and yet – and yet he was still awake. He was still conscious. And where his vision should have been fading and turning to black, he was instead staring down at the man with the sharpest of clarity. By all rights, he should be dying right now. He should be swiftly on his way to death's doorstep.
But he wasn't. Rather, he was still alive. And with every passing second that continued, the reality only became stronger and stronger.
The realisation was a startling one, and one that Peter didn't understand – couldn't understand – in any way, shape, or form whatsoever.
But at the moment, that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of Seftis' hold – and he had to get out of it now.
Struggling once more with renewed energy, Peter tried to kick and thrash towards Seftis' body, but for whatever reason, his legs wouldn't work. It were as though they were bound by some invisible bonds, pulling back at every movement he tried to make.
He felt just as he had the first time he'd met Seftis, when the man had frozen his body in place with whatever form of magic or power he had, and had forced him to watch as everyone he knew was about to be killed. He had been completely and utterly helpless.
And now it seemed he would be frozen once more, seemingly unable to die, and as equally unable to stop whatever Seftis wanted to do to him – to anyone.
As though reading his mind, Seftis smiled, the turns of his lips lining the edges beneath his pale, yellow eyes. "You're powerless, Peter Parker. You're powerless, Spider-Man. I tried to leave you out of this, really, I did. But still you came back, still you had to crawl back up the spout again. Well if a front-row seat to your friends' death is what you want, then I'll give you the best seat in the house."
Seftis tilted his head back, looking over at Tony, who was still exactly as they had left him, but whose eyes were turned and watching their every move.
Seftis' grin broadened and he turned back to Peter. "I told Osborn to simply incapacitate the man. Whether it was a coma or inoperable brain damage, it didn't matter. All that mattered was making sure he'd never be able to run his company again. That way Osborn – or more accurately, I – would gain full control over all his businesses – and assets."
Peter knew this. He knew all of this already. He knew Osborn – and now Seftis – were after Tony's company, were after control of the Avengers. So why was Seftis telling all of this now?
"But seeing as Osborn has proven a useless waste of time, I suppose I will just have to kill Tony Stark myself. And you, Spider-Man, will have the honour of witnessing Iron Man's death."
Peter's eyes widened and panic began to take hold, as what had been so painfully obvious – and what he'd been so painfully trying to ignore – reared its ugly head.
Seftis lifted his other hand and waved it in the air. A second later a spear appeared, as dark and as terrifying as the day Peter had first saw it.
The spear hovered high in the air in front of Tony, angled down towards him, aiming straight for the centre of his head. All it was waiting for was the order to strike.
Peter tried – he tried so, so hard to fight against Seftis' hold, to get out of his grip, to somehow gain the upper hand, to find a way to stop him, to stop him from giving the final order, to stop him from sending the spear through Tony's eyes and killing him again, just as he had before and he had to stop him, he had to stop him he had to, but he couldn't move, he couldn't move and – and –
Don't lose hope, Peter. For you have a great power burning within you. All you need to do is let is loose.
A power. This constant, tattering-on about some ridiculous power, a power everyone else seemed to know about but of which he knew absolutely nothing. A power that was great enough to warrant the attention of an insane businessman and now crazed-goblin, a power that was so important as to make that man take and knife and cut through his chest, to the point that all he could feel was pain and heat and burning, everything was so hot and he was burning and he was –
He was burning.
It lashed like a whip, the centre of his chest suddenly exploding in a fierce heat, running through his muscles and down his legs, reaching into his arms and to his fingertips, which were still held in a death-grip on Seftis' hands.
It happened quickly. The searing heat, the growing burn in his hands, just as they had when he'd first woken after Osborn's failed dissection, just as they had when he'd ran after Stromm to stop him from taking the signed papers, and cementing Osborn's control over Stark Industries, just as they had when – when –
He could smell the stench of burning flesh.
Suddenly someone was screaming, and the next thing Peter knew he was falling to the ground, landing on his side in a heap.
He looked up to see Seftis stumbling back, staring at his arms in wide-eyed shock, his skin burnt in the shadow of someone's fingers.
Of Peter's fingers.
Seftis stared at his arms for a moment longer, before his dark eyes looked up and met Peter's.
"So you've found him, then," he said.
Peter's chest was heaving as he fought for breath, the panic and adrenaline eating away at whatever energy he had left. He could only stare back at Seftis in confusion.
"I don't – I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
Seftis righted himself, standing to his full height and looking down at Peter with pure contempt. "Don't lie, child. You know whom I'm speaking about."
And he did. As much as he wished he didn't, Peter knew exactly who Seftis meant. The only problem was, Peter knew nothing more than that. If the voice in his head was real, if the voice in his head was somehow connected to his seemingly new ability to create fire from his hands, then… then he had a lot more trouble than he had ever thought he had.
"It doesn't matter." Seftis brushed the charred remains of his sleeves and the burnt pieces of flesh off his arms, as though he were merely cleaning away dust. "He is unimportant. You, however, are proving to be quite the annoyance."
Stepping forward, Seftis made to reach towards Peter, his arm outstretched and a snarl on his lips.
Peter flinched back, expecting an invisible hand to fasten once more around his throat, to render his legs and arms useless as the man proceeded to do whatever he wanted to him, to kill him where he sat or make him watch as he killed everyone else, and –
There was a shout to his right, and before he even had a chance to blink, a figure was charging into his vision and crashing into Seftis' side.
Peter blinked, as his eyes realised who it was.
Tony.
He wasn't in his suit, he had no weapons or any defense to speak of, and yet he was currently struggling with the other man, trying to land his punches and knock him down.
Peter watched in stunned silence as the two men fought for a few moments, before Seftis finally pushed Tony back and sent him falling to the ground.
"All right Stark," Seftis growled, stepping back. "I was willing to leave you only in a coma, to let you live, but it's clear that no matter where you go, you will always carry a death-wish with you."
He raised his arms above his sides, and as they moved, a dozen spears manifested in the air above and around him. The spears began spinning, faster and faster as though preparing to charge, ready to fly from their invisible bows at a moment's notice.
Images of a spear piercing Tony's armor and through is body flashed in front of Peter's eyes, and before he even knew what was happening, he was suddenly on his feet and running straight towards the two men.
"Don't worry Stark," Seftis said, raising his fingers in front of his face. "I'll take good care of your company, and of your little earth, too."
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Seftis snapped his fingers, the spears flew forward towards Tony, and Peter jumped right between the two.
There was a great explosion, deafening his ears as light grew and grew until it became blinding. Peter brought up his arms in an attempt to shield himself, both from the spears and the light and the absolute cacophony of noise.
Before he knew what was happening, all the noise and commotion around him suddenly stopped. The world went completely silent, and deathly still.
For a moment, all Peter could hear was his own breath.
Then, after a few more moments, someone spoke.
"We don't have long, I'm afraid."
Peter opened his eyes, blinking rapidly until they finally managed to adjust to the light around him.
He was standing on a white surface, surrounded by white walls and an endlessly white sky. At first he could see no one, but when he turned round, he came face to face with someone else.
He was an old man, white hair having long since receded, now crowning the back of his head. He looked to be in his late seventies, or perhaps early eighties. But age seemed to bear little on him, his back still standing straight, his shoulders pushed back, his aged eyes looking back at Peter with a wisdom and knowing that made Peter want to take a step back.
How he knew all this by simply looking at the man, whether it was his spidey-senses or just human intuition, Peter didn't know. But something in the back of Peter's mind told him this man was something far more than simply that, that there was something far more important about him than the simple fact that he was old.
The man had a cane, which he tapped against the ground as he walked towards him.
"You have many questions about me, I'm sure," he said. "But I cannot answer all of them. Know foremost of all, that I mean you no harm. My being here is an unhappy byproduct, of a very unhappy war."
Peter stared at the man for a long moment, not knowing what to do, or what to say.
He knew this man. Somehow, someway, he knew him. In fact, if the memories that were slowly trickling into the back of his mind were true, then he'd already met this man once before.
He'd forgotten. When Osborn had kidnapped him and tied him down to the table in the glass cage to cut open his chest, there had been a moment – a small moment, in a blinding chaos of pain and noise – where he had met someone. Where he had spoken to something, to someone. A Being, that had left him with more questions than he had answers, but he hadn't remembered any of them, because then he'd woken up, and he'd felt hotter than he'd ever felt in his life, and he'd just wanted to get out of the cage and out of the laboratory, and get out get out get out, and –
"You will understand."
You will understand. The creature, the Being, this man – he had said he'd understand. But understand what?
"My name is Ascar. You do not know me, nor my kind. We don't often delve into the affairs of Earth or its peoples, but I was left with no choice. Or at least, I was forced to make a choice I would not have otherwise made. And I'm afraid, my dear boy, that you had to bear the weight of that decision."
Finally, his tongue came unglued and he managed to speak.
"What are you… what are you talking about? What choice did you have to make?"
"To either die, and let my soul – my essence, my power – be stolen by another, or to allow my body to fall, while my soul lived on in the body of another."
The hairs on the back of Peter's neck prickled and a cold shiver ran down his spine, as pieces began putting themselves together, forming into a picture, a picture that he did not want to make.
The man – Ascar's – eyes softened, and he looked at Peter with something akin to regret. "You were the only vessel strong enough to carry me. I'm sorry. That is why Seftis came after you, because you had me. Because he wanted to finish me off for good."
Peter could barely comprehend what he was hearing. None of what the man said made any sense. It couldn't make any sense. How could someone essentially telling him that he had another soul in his body aside from his own, make any sense?!
And he said as much. "What… how…. I don't – I don't understand, how are – what are – who are you, how – how can you be in my body, how can – how am I even seeing you, how –."
The man's lips pressed thinly together, and he shook his head. "The how is unimportant right now. Right now, you simply need to know that it is."
The walls around them began to shake, and Peter could swear he heard someone saying his name.
The two remained where they were, standing across from each other, as Peter desperately tried to understand the pieces of the puzzle that he was slowly putting together.
"So let me get this straight. You… you were fighting Seftis. And you said – you said he tried to kill you?"
"Yes."
"And so instead of letting him kill you, you put… you put your – your soul into… into me."
"As I said before, you were the only one strong enough to hold me."
Peter squirreled his eyes. "But that's… that's ridiculous. That's crazy. You can't – there's no way –." Peter swallowed, and took a step back. "I'm hallucinating. That's what this is. This is all just one, big hallucination. I've finally snapped. After all this time, I've finally lost it."
The walls shook again, and the man's eyes darkened. "You can ignore the truth all you want, Peter, but the truth remains the same, whether you believe it or not."
Peter stared at the man and took a breath, and then another. The voice of someone calling his name echoed around the chamber, urgent and pressing.
"Okay," Peter said, bringing his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and pinching it, hard. "Let's… let's say I believe you. Let's say I believe this crazy, psycho dream I'm currently having is actually real. If you're actually in my body, then… then how do I get you out? How do I get you to leave?"
The walls shook harder this time, the ground now also shaking and nearly throwing Peter off his feet.
Ascar, however, remained unmoved.
"I promise, Peter, that I will tell you everything. But at the moment, I think that getting rid of me is the last decision you would want to make."
It felt as though he were in an earthquake, ceaseless and growing more powerful with each passing second.
Peter frowned as he tried to maintain his balance. "And why the heck would that be?"
Ascar lifted his head, and stared hard into Peter's eyes. "I already told you, Peter – you cannot die by Seftis' hand. That is why he did not kill you two years ago – because of me. He cannot kill me, and now by extension, he cannot kill you."
The earthquake grew stronger and stronger, and finally Ascar looked up, as though noticing his surroundings for the first time. He quickly looked back down at Peter, his words fast and urgent. "Seftis wants power, Peter – he wants the power to conquer and lead according to how he sees fit. And he wants a throne from which he can rule an entire world."
The noise was now deafening, as the walls and sky began to crumble around them.
"Don't let him succeed, Peter. You must stop him. Or else you will not be the only one in the world to become completely forgotten."
With his final words the shaking earth finally knocked Peter off his feet, and he was sent falling backwards to the ground, and into the abyss.
"Parker! Peter! Hey kid, wake up! Goddam – gah."
He was shaking. Or rather, someone was shaking him.
"Parker! So help me, if you die here I will personally ship you out and make sure you never set foot in this place again, or –."
Peter slowly opened his eyes, blinking as the rays of the afternoon sun blinded his vision. Then, someone drew over him, blocking out the light.
Peter blinked once more, then frowned.
Tony.
Tony was leaning over him, staring at him with a terrified anger that reminded Peter of the other – few – times he'd messed up and required saving, which Tony had always diligently done, and which he would constantly remind Peter was going to send him into an early grave. Or worse – give him more grey hair.
At seeing Peter's eyes, relief immediately fell across Tony's face and he leaned back, falling on his backside against the ground.
"Oh thank God," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes.
His head was throbbing, the pressure behind his eyes making him want to dig them out with his fingers, but aside from that, Peter felt… fine. At the very least, he didn't feel as though he were dying. And if Tony's relief was anything to go by, he didn't look it, either.
But why was he out here in the first place? Why was he laying on the ground outside the compound, surrounded by snow? Had Tony been trying to show him a new invention? Had that invention gone wrong, and that's why Tony was looking for all the world like a panicked parent who, in his enthusiasm, had been less-than careful with his kid?
"Mister Stark?" Peter asked, pushing himself against his elbows, until he was fully sitting upright. He looked over at Tony, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Mister Stark, what happened? Did you… were you doing something with your suit, or… or did I make a mistake, and mess something up? I swear, I never actually meant to try your suit on, I just wanted to see if the interior would adjust to my size, and –."
Peter grimaced and grabbed his head, leaning forward as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight against the pain. Something was wrong about the questions he'd asked, his instincts and senses told him that, but at the moment he didn't care. All he cared about was riding out the waves of agony that were currently crashing through his head.
He could sense Tony's eyes on him, and looking up, Peter could see Tony looking at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows, as though Peter had suddenly grown a second head.
"Mister Stark?" Peter asked again. God, he hoped the man had Advil or Tylenol. Not that they would really help. Regular drugs had stopped working on him the moment he'd been bitten.
Tony stared at him a few moments longer, before slowly getting to his feet.
"Come on kid," he said, grabbing Peter's arm and pulling him up, "I think we'd better go see Bruce."
They arrived a short while later at the med-bay, Tony having already told one of the security to have Bruce meet them there as soon as he possibly could.
Tony helped lift Peter onto one of the tables, which Peter was more than grateful for. His vision was still swimming and head was still throbbing, and no matter how much he knew that he was on solid ground, he still felt as though he were in the middle of roiling waves.
They sat in silence for a long while, neither saying a word. It was odd, Peter thought somewhere in the back of his mind, that both him and Tony would be at a loss of words at the exact same moment in time, but at the moment he really couldn't give the phenomenon much thought, as he was too busy caring about soccer ball that was currently inflating behind his eyes.
Eventually he heard footsteps in the distance, each step growing closer and closer with every passing second, until finally the door was pushed open and panting breaths reached his ears.
"Tony! Tony, they told me you were injured, are you okay? What – what happened?"
Bruce. The panicked and slightly-out-of-breath voice belonged to Bruce. His worry didn't surprise Peter; he'd always been a man of study and research, not fighting and action. Not like Tony. Not like him.
When Tony didn't immediately respond, Bruce's worry seemed only to grow.
"Tony? Well now you really have me worried, are you –."
"I don't know, Bruce," Tony replied carelessly. He was rubbing his eyes and moving at half the speed he normally moved, which meant that either something was physically wrong, or he hadn't gone to bed in three days.
Peter wondered just how badly he'd screwed up.
"Tony –."
"The kid's the one that needs actual help right now," Tony interrupted, motioning towards Peter. "He got – I mean, we both got – but then –." Tony swore, then leaned his elbows against his knees, digging his fingers into his eyes. "I need a drink."
"Tony, what are you talking about?"
"You know, I wish I could tell you. At the moment though I'm currently trying to decide whether I've just had a – well, let's admit it – a quite vivid hallucination, or if my brain just decided to take a walk off the deep end. I'm not sure which."
"Aren't those both the same thing?"
"Quiet, Banner – I need to think."
Peter's own head was too foggy to really take in what Tony was saying, but he couldn't bring himself to really care. At the moment he was battling the worst headache he'd ever experienced, his entire body ached, and his chest felt as though it were on fire.
This would be a really good time to go to sleep.
And, had everything stayed as it was, he would have – except in the next moment he could hear more sounds of footsteps coming towards him, and not long after the door opened once more, and Steve and Bucky walked in.
Peter frowned. Weren't Steve and Bucky currently on an undercover mission out in the middle of Siberia? What the heck were they doing back here so early?
Steve's eyes landed on Peter, a look of panic in them that Peter wasn't entirely familiar with. It was a panic that was more accustomed on Tony's face, or Happy's, or Aunt May's – especially after they found out some of the things he did on his patrols. Which was why, of course, he rarely told any of them the full story – after all, what was the point in upsetting someone when the damage had already been done?
"Peter!"
Steve all but ran towards him, grabbing hold of the railing at his bedside. "Peter, what the heck happened? You leave for barely five minutes, and then we're getting told that you and Tony are both headed towards the med-bay? What the heck happened? Did you guys actually get in a fight, or –."
"I'd say we were gone for a bit more than just five minutes, Captain," Tony interrupted. But he quickly backtracked. "Wait, no, I take that back. I may have just had a stroke and blacked out for five minutes, and it just felt like an hour. Just let… just let me think, I need… I just need to think." He went back to holding his head in his hands.
Steve turned back to Peter. "Peter, what happened?"
Peter blinked, staring back at Steve in bemusement. Now that he thought the question over, he wasn't exactly sure what the answer was. What had happened? Tony still hadn't told him whether it was his fault or Peter's. But now, with both Steve and Bucky looking down at him with worried and confused eyes, he was no longer sure whether it was either of their fault.
"I don't…" Peter began, "I'm not… I'm not sure…."
"You're saying you don't remember?" Steve filled in.
Peter shook his head. "I just – my head really hurts, Captain, and I don't – whatever it was, it wasn't Mister Stark's fault. I swear, if it has something to do with one of his suits, I swear I didn't actually mean to try one out. I was only thinking about it, and –."
Steve blinked, staring at Peter a second longer before turning back to face Tony. "Tony, what happened?" he demanded.
Tony looked up at him incredulously. "You're asking me? Me? Sorry Cap, but you're squeezing water from a stone, here. I know nothing more than you do. At least… at least nothing that makes sense, anyway."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Bruce interjected. "Is anyone here needing medical attention, or are we all just gonna sit around and insist we don't know anything? I think between us, there should be at least someone that knows something."
Steve turned back to Peter. "Peter, are you honestly telling me that you don't know anything? That you just walked outside and forgot what you were doing? Or is this all just some kind of joke you've decided to play? Or –." Steve faltered, his eyes going wide before he looked back at Tony. "Wait, did… did Tony –." He looked back at Peter, his eyes suddenly hopeful. "Did Tony remember? Did he get his memories back?"
"Did I get what now?"
Steve looked back. "Your memories. Did you – did you remember who Peter is?"
Tony looked more confused now than ever, an eyebrow raised in growing incredulity. "Okay, now I really don't know what's going on. What the hell are you talking about? Memories? What – what does that even mean –."
He went on, questioning Steve about what he was talking about, but Peter wasn't paying anymore attention. Their words had been enough to clear the fog that had gathered in his mind, and suddenly the events of all that had just happened began to trickle back behind his eyes. The heavy weight of the memory of what had actually happened – and what was actually going on – settled over his mind, and his throbbing headache no longer quite seemed to matter.
He suddenly felt sick.
"Memories," Peter said out loud.
All eyes turned to him, but Peter barely paid them any attention, as the realisation of all that had happened began to take hold. He looked over at Tony, disbelieving incredulity bubbling up in his chest as he realised what he, for a moment, anyway, had actually thought had been happening.
"I thought – I thought that Tony had remembered, that – that nothing had changed, but he –." Peter let out a manic chuckle, unable to contain his laughter at the absolute ridiculous absurdity of the entire situation. He laughed again. "I thought Tony had remembered, but I forgot! I forgot he'd forgotten! Ha!" He fell back against the pillows on his bed, suddenly unable to stop laughing.
It was so horribly ironic – here he was, having just met Seftis for a second time, and he'd gone and ended up thinking that Tony still knew who he was, but of course he didn't, none of them did, they'd all forgotten him, and –
"Peter," Steve said, but he was unable to break through Peter's laughter.
"No, Captain, it's too good – it's too damn good. I – here I am, having just met the guy who started this whole fucking nightmare in the first place, and then I find out that I have two souls inside my body, not just mine, and then – and then I just – I just forget that Tony forgot me! I even – I even –."
"Peter, you need to calm down – you need to stop and take a breath, you –."
Peter shook his head, trying to suck in breaths while at the same time not giving a damn. "It doesn't – it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Not anymore."
"Why?" Steve pressed. "Why doesn't it matter?"
"Because I failed. I broke our deal. And now Seftis is back, and he's going to kill you. He's going to take over Stark Industries and he's going to kill you all. I failed. I failed."
He had failed.