Important note: In this universe with the snap Peter would have been 15 & is 15 now. My OC was 10, a few months shy of 11 and is now 15 years old. Morgan will be 4 years old.
Peter & my OC will be 4 years & 6 months apart in age pre blimp.
restart my heart
the first 24 hours
She was never raised to believe in a God or any other higher being to pray. She was taught to believe in her father and his intelligence. Thor and his hammer. Cap and his shield and so on.
The Avengers will save you. Earth's Mightiest Heroes will prevail. There was never any reason or whim to sit on her knees and send a quick prayer to an unknown force in hopes that they exist and will change what fate has in store. She had always known everything would turn out alright. She never had any other reason to believe differently. They have always won. They have always come back home - safe and alive.
She had faith in her dad. She had believed that nothing would prevent him from coming home. There was no need for prayer. She wasn't sure how to even begin with religion anyway. It didn't matter. It wasn't logical.
She never understood why people prayed into the unknown, the implausible, until Happy escorted her remaining family to the edge of the dock. Pass the small but powerful crowd of people dressed in black. Pass the whispers of condolences and barely audible sniffles.
She never understood until that moment. The feeling of her heart and soul floating away along with the beautiful arrangement of flowers and arc reactor.
Proof Tony Stark has a Heart.
Proof that her dad won't be walking into the kitchen, arms spread wide with a grin on his face. Proof that he won't wake her up for a midnight cheeseburger run to Burger King. Letting her sit in on science experiments with Dr. Banner.
He won't be there to scold her when she snuck out and stole his suit. Or hilariously attempt to ground Peter when he helps her make a second attempt in escaping the house with the Mark 42. It wasn't like they were looking for trouble. Just on the quest for the best bacon cheese fries.
Proof that a part of her heart, her father, will be a missing piece in her life moving forward.
Morgan Stark stood between Sophia and Pepper Stark. Hands squirming and sweaty within her own but Sophia doesn't mind. She just squeezes back, letting her little sister dig into her hip as they watch the flowers slowly drift away.
She feels a tightness in her chest and a heavy weight on her shoulders that seem to get worse with every passing minute. It's her fault.
He's dead and it's her fault.
Morgan squeezes her fingers. The touch of affection grounds Sophia in a way she didn't know she needed. She refuses to be the one to release a sob or a scream or even shed a tear. Not when everyone else is holding it together so well. Besides a few soft sniffles and the gentle rustle of the trees it might as well be silent. A scene in a movie someone accidentally left on mute.
Her mom has barely shed a tear. Sophia admires her mom in so many ways but today especially for showing a strong front. She is so much stronger than Sophia ever will be.
Sophia refuses to make a show, although, if her dad was here he would tell her to share her pain with him, shake it off, and then do something about it. Nothing got done by sitting around. We're Stark's, let's go fix the problem.
.
.
.
.
But how do you bring back the dead?
Riiing
.
.
Riiiiiing
.
.
The cabin that was once filled with cheerful screams and laughter, and occasionally a few cries of despair of lost ones from the snap, is now filled with a thick layer of grief hanging in the air and moving boxes. The Avengers and company have all either left or remained outside to start sending the stones back where they came from. Morgan no longer trailing behind her and instead opted to sit on the porch swing with Happy.
Safely tucked away in his side, away from the constant ringing from the land line. The only current working phone in the home.
Riiing
.
.
Everything else was turned off or tossed away. The landline being a way for emergencies. And somehow the one way they had of communication became a source of torture in such a short period. 24 hours. It's only been 24 hours. Sophia keeps repeating to herself. It's only been 24 hours. How has the world changed so much in 24 hours?
Riiing
.
.
Sophia slowly moves her way inside the cabin to sit on the living room floor. Surrounded by stacks of picture frames, photo albums, packaging tissues, and bubble wrap. Sitting in a pile waiting to be neatly put away with cardboard boxes stacked high. Tightly wrapped and labeled with Pepper's handwriting.
The last five years of her life just packed away. Ready to be put in storage or put away back at Avengers Tower. Within 24 hours her entire life was taken away and moved for a second time. No time to process or ask why. Too tired to protest.
Sophia begins to carefully wrap each glass frame, doing her very best to ignore the reason as to why she's packing her home of five years, and instead focus on the memories presented in each photo.
Definitely not focusing on how much her hands shake or the way the glass frames make her dad's eye shine even brighter in the photo. Almost as if he's alive. Ready to make a snarky remark. She could almost hear it.
You could have at leastgot the wizards to make it more of a showy send off. I did save the world after all. Again.
She just knows he'd joke about making it a party. That he's sure somewhere out there someone is celebrating his death and he wants to do it bigger and better. But at the same time she knew deep down being with us is all he ever would need. Being flashy and obnoxious was pre blimp. Before time felt frozen. It didn't feel real.
It's only been 24 hours since he saved the world and brought everyone back. How was she supposed to keep going?
Riiiing
.
.
With Tony's death life began to play again. People moved forward. Homes began to rebuild. Life started anew. People started waiting in anticipation to get a glimpse of the hero's. Get their questions answered and thank them for bringing back what was thought to be lost loved ones.
It's only been 24 hours since she saw her dad take his last breath. The world kept turning. It didn't feel like it should. Don't they know Tony is gone? Their protector has fallen?
Riiiing
.
.
Only 24 hours. Such a short amount of time to process a death. The world was still in panic. And yet, that didn't stop gossip show hosts, magazine writers, and tv news anchors from reaching out. Calling. Podcasts. News specials. All of them repeating the same question. Over and over and over until she tossed her cellphone under her bed. Completely turned off and hidden in a pile of blankets.
What happened to Tony Stark?
It's only been 24 hours and yet the world knows something's wrong.
Going on autopilot. Through the motions and anxiously waiting for what's to come outside of this little cabin, away from the small and private world her dad had created just for them. Her mind is a whirlwind of what ifs and I should haves.
If she knew, understood, what sacrifices would have had to have been made to undo the snap she never would have encouraged her father to wear the suit one last time.
"You are Iron Man! You can do anything! You can save everyone!"
And he did and he sacrificed more than just himself in the process.
"Don't you want to bring Peter back?"
Every time she looks at a photo, his face morphs into a beaten and bloody Tony. And every time she must turn the frame around and blink the image away while pushing back the tears that threatened to spill.
"You can change the world, Dad. I believe in you."
Carefully avoiding seeing the pictures of her family as she wraps the frames in bubble wrap.
"I'll see you when you get back. Everything will be okay. We'll be okay."
Pretending the image of blood seeping out her dad's mouth never happened.
"Love you 3,000."
Pretending she can't hear his last gasp of air. Pretending that she can't clearly picture her dad fading away in front of her. That moment wasn't and can't be the last one she has of her dad. She doesn't want that to be her reality.
It's been 24 hours. Why won't that last image leave her mind? That's not how she wants to remember him. The picture frame shakes even more.
She clenches her teeth, jaw tight, willing that her tears stay back. She doesn't want to cry. Everyone is so, so strong. She wants to be strong too.
"Hey, um, Sophia? Right? That's you?"
Startled, a picture frame did a short tumble out of her hands and onto the hardwood floor. Slightly cracking around its edges.
Her father's face stared back at her. Smirking.
"Sorry about that. I...I didn't mean to scare you." Large hands came into view, picking up the frame and moving the photo out of her sight. Sophia took a deep breath.
Pushing her light brown hair back, Sophia looked up to see brown eyes tinged red around the edges. "Peter?"
Peter stood, not quite as tall as she remembered him being five years ago, in the dimly lit living room with hands pushing the picture frame to his chest. She probably now stands up to just below his shoulders, she faintly thought. Five years is only a short amount of time in the grand scheme of things but looking between herself and Peter made her feel like several lifetimes had gone and went between the snaps.
He looked a lot taller when she was 10. He looked more impressive then.
He gave a crooked smile and rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, Soph. It's been a while. Well, for you, not for me. Not like it's been that short of a time for me but you know, with the snap, and everything that has happened and all...and yeah."
She couldn't come up with a response. She could only silently nod along with his string of half finished sentences. Brows furrowed and mouth twisted into a frown. She couldn't help but notice that Peter Parker was a mini Tony Stark in the making. A fact she couldn't handle knowing at the moment. He even managed to copy her dad's crooked smile perfectly.
He may not have the charisma of her father. But she could definitely tell Tony Stark continues to live through his protege.
The feeling in her chest tightened. Almost constricting her breathing. She wanted to scream at him. Tell him to leave. She just couldn't find the air to do it.
He took a deep breath as if to gather strength and bent down to sit across from her, piles of picture frames and boxes between them.
"I'm sorry." Peter's voice cracked along with Sophia's heart. "I'm so sorry. If I had been stronger or faster, maybe he would still be here. I - I should haveā¦" His voice was heavy with shame, the same way guilt weighed down on her shoulders. He took a deep breath.
"I'm just so sorry, Sophia. If I could bring him back I would."
His knuckles turned a pale white seconds before the wooden frame and glass showered around them. Despite the glass embedded into his left hand, causing a few droplets of blood to slowly start dripping onto the hardwood floor, Peter held on tighter. A sick, twisted part deep inside her hopes it hurts. He should feel her pain because he's part of the reason her dad didn't come home.
She wants him to hurt. To feel the pain she feels that he caused. She wouldn't be sitting here if it wasn't for him. The last five years of her life wouldn't be packed away if he had just stayed gone.
He started to cry. "I should have been more helpful. I should have been stronger."
He let out that ugly, loud and obnoxious cry she has been trying so hard to hold back. That ball of emotions sitting in her chest and the back of her throat wanted to burst out even more.
She wasn't sure if the rise of emotions was out of rage or despair. He thinks he could cry to her? As if he was the one to lose a dad? Her jaw clenches, almost pinching the inside of her cheek. She didn't want his tears. She didn't want his apologies.
All Sophia wants is her dad back.
"I am so sorry that I wasn't enough, Sophia." Peter hunched over the broken photo frame. His body wracked with an onslaught of tears. "I wish I could have saved him. I really do."
He lets out a sob. Shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry I did this to you Sophia." He croaks out. Voice breaking with every other word.
And like a domino effect, a tremor took over her and whatever was left holding back her anguish broke.
Sophia let out gut wrenching sobs that tore through her chest. Her lungs rummaged for oxygen, and her sobbing had the same force of someone drowning. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the cool hardwood floor. Eyes scrunched up tight. She couldn't get enough air. Her body was shaking with every cry she let out.
She quickly raised her hands to cover her mouth in a poor attempt to muffle the sounds.
"It's okay." Her voice cracked and was hoarse. Barely understandable between each wail of her suffering. "It's okay. We'll be okay."
It's not your fault, it's mine. A small voice in her head whispers. She shouldn't have made dad bring him back. It shouldn't be her dad sitting across from her, not her former babysitter.
He reached over and gripped her hand tight, to the point where she was almost tempted to tell him to let go in fear of breaking her hand like he did the photo.
"I'm sorry, Sophia. I really am."
The broken photo of Tony holding nine year old Sophia in one arm and clasping Peter's shoulder with his other fell into the shadows at his feet covered in darkness but Tony's smile shined bright.
end of prologue: the end game
Important note: Peter would have been 15 & is 15 now for the snap. My OC was 10 and is now 15 years old. Morgan will be 4 years old
word count: 2.523
