Chapter Text
Floating.
Darkness.
Expansion.
Where am I? Who am I? What’s happening?
A feeling of... contraction, starting slowly and nearly unnoticeably. It begins to speed up, exponentially accelerating in strength and speed until—
Peter Parker’s eyes jolt open. His whole body feels like pins and needles. His vision, a blur of orange.
What the hell was that? Is the only coherent thought he can form in his still-reeling mind. The last thing he can remember is being stranded on Titan with Mr. Stark...
A blurry shape makes its way into Peter’s vision. “You alright?” a distinctly male voice asks. The blob comes a little more into focus, and Peter sees the face of a bearded dude looking down at him.
In all honesty, Peter’s first instinct is to ask, “Jesus?”
But as his vision clears, he recognizes the guy as the one with the metal arm that Peter briefly fought in Leipzig. What was his name... Barry? Bobby?
Another voice cuts through Peter’s thoughts. “Bucky, how’s the kid?” Bucky, that’s it!
Bucky turns his head towards the source of the voice. “I don’t know, Sam. He opened his eyes, but he’s not responding to me. Maybe he’s in shock... if that’s even possible here.”
It occurs to Peter that he should probably sit up. He jerks upward, nearly bashing heads with the still observing Bucky. Sam lets out a snort of laughter from beside him, and Peter recognizes him as well.
This is Sam Wilson, aka The Falcon of the Avengers, who also happens to be the guy that Peter webbed to the floor in Leipzig. Whoops.
And Bucky... he’s the former Winter Soldier. He’s a powerful ally of Captain America as well. Wow.
Peter spends a starstruck moment staring up at the two superheroes, until he realizes they’re probably expecting him to say something. He intends to introduce himself or something, but that’s not what comes out.
“Where am I? Where’s Mr. Stark? Has Thanos been defeated? Am I dead? Oh god, Aunt May’s gonna kill me!” Everything in Peter’s brain pours out in a torrent of questions.
Bucky looks slightly bewildered, and Sam gives Peter a wan smile.
Peter feels his face go warm. Not a good impression to make in front of literal Avengers.
“S-sorry about that, Mr. Wilson and Mr... Soldier.” He tries to appear mature and collected, but the nervous tremor in his voice is all but glaringly obvious to him.
The warm smiles Peter receives loosen the nervous tension in his body just slightly.
“Bucky’s fine. And don’t worry about it, kid. We’ve all got questions, too.” The way Bucky calls him “kid” sends a pang of emotion through Peter’s chest. He should be ecstatic that a super-soldier addressed him so affectionately, but the term of endearment only reminds him of Mr. Stark.
Falcon squats down so he’s eye level with Peter. “What’s your name, kid?” He holds out a hand to help him up, continuing. “And you can call me Sam. None of that ‘Mr. Wilson’ BS with me.”
Peter gratefully takes his hand. “My name’s Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man. I don’t know if you remember me from the fight in the airport...”
He trails off, seeing recognition creep on to the others’ faces.
“Sorry about that,” he winces.
Sam and Bucky, seeing how Peter reacted, hasten to reassure him.
“It’s okay, Peter,” Bucky says, offering his nonmetal hand for a handshake. “You just wanted to help Tony. It’s in the past. Nice to meet you, anyway.”
“Nice to meet you too, sir.” No matter how many times Peter gets introduced to superheroes, he never tires of the thrill it gives him.
Sam holds his hand out again, this time for a handshake. “What he said. Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, his natural charm reassuring Peter. “And don’t apologize for asking what was on your mind before. This has probably been the weirdest day of your life-“
“Probably?”
“Shut up, Barnes. Anyway, it’s been a crazy day, and I’m sure every single person in this place has the exact same questions.”
Sam gestures around him, and although Peter’s still adjusting to wherever this place is, he glimpses a vast number of people starting to clump in groups.
“Are you sure everyone has those questions?” Peter asks.
“Positive,” Sam reaffirms.
Peter cracks a smile, feeling a bit more comfortable. “Even about my Aunt May unleashing her fury?”
His question earns a chuckle out of Sam. “Well-“
“I don’t know who this Aunt May is, but if her fury is worse than Thanos, we better watch out.”
Peter had nearly jumped into Sam’s arms when a new voice spoke up behind him. He whirls around to see Peter Quill, also known as Star-Lord.
“Thanos sent us all here, so let’s hope your Aunt May can defeat him.” He continues.
Peter smiles a bit. “Hey, dude,” he greets Star-Lord. A question formulates in his mind.
“If you’re gonna ask where exactly ‘here’ is, don’t ask me. I have no idea where we ended up.” Star-Lord answers the question before Peter can ask it.
Both Peters look hopefully toward Bucky and Sam, who both signify that they have no idea either. Peter lets out a small sigh, and looks past Star-Lord to observe his surroundings.
They seem to be in a gigantic sphere of some sort. The place is almost like a football stadium, with the four of them standing above the nosebleeds. All around the sphere, hills lead down to a valley of some sort, with staircases imbed into them. The walls give off a soft orange glow, which silhouettes the people gathering in different spots all around the environment. The whole place gives off an alien, modern-ish look, except for the trees that dot the landscape seemingly randomly. Most sport orange or red leaves, although a few look as if they have green leaves growing on them. It’s unlike anything Peter’s ever seen.
Quill waves a hand in front of his face. “You good, Spiderkid? I thought you spaced out there for a second.”
Peter shakes his head a little. “Yeah, sorry Mr... Lord? Mr. Quill?” God, it’s hard to address this guy politely.
Star-Lord sighs. “First of all, just go with Quill. It’s easier for everybody.” Peter nods obediently. Quill looks as if he’s about to say something else, but then a leaf from a nearby tree flies by, and his head whirls around so fast Peter worries he got whiplash from it.
“Mr. Quill, are you okay?” asks Peter.
“Yeah, just... thought I saw someone I knew,” Quill answers, still looking in the direction the leaf blew.
“One of your friends?” Peter guesses. He’d met most of Quill’s “gang” a few hours ago. Was that really only today?
“You could say that.” Quill rubs the back of his neck, deflating a bit. “I’m looking for Gamora.”
Gamora. Quill and his friends had mentioned that name. Peter’s never met her, but judging by the way he went off at Thanos for whatever the Titan to her, Peter Quill loves her very dearly.
“Gamora.” Peter repeats the name out loud thoughtfully. A plan starts formulating in his brain. He doesn’t know Gamora, but maybe he could help Star-Lord find her...
Quill’s face lights up. “Have you seen her?” He asks, misinterpreting Peter’s response.
“Sorry, man. I don’t know what she looks like, so I can’t tell you,” answers Peter
apologetically. “But maybe I can help you!”
Quill gives him a quizzical look, eyebrows furrowing. “No offense, but how?”
Peter suddenly becomes acutely aware of Quill’s eyes trained on his face. The plan he has been formulating doesn’t seem as foolproof now.
“Well, uh,” he starts shakily, “There’s a lot of people here already, and we don’t know how much are coming into this place in total. And there’s too many people to look just by simply trying to walk through....” He pauses for a second as Quill motions for him to continue.
“But maybe I could use the trees to help me look? Like, swing from tree to tree to get a better view...?” The last part comes out as more of a question than a statement.
Quill’s eyes widen. “That’s a good plan. Why didn’t I think of that? You’re pretty smart, kid. Not bad for someone who doesn’t recognize cinematic genius.”
Peter internally sighs in relief. Quill liked his plan!
Feeling more at ease, Peter ribs back, “Footloose is awful and you know it!”
Quill rolls his eyes playfully. “You wish, Parker. Anyway, the plan.”
Oh. Right. Gamora.
“So I can stick to the walls or swing through the trees to look for her, and you can stay here on the ground or climb the trees or something, right?”
Quill barely has time to nod before Peter’s off.
He pulls his mask on and aims for the nearest tree, praying his webshooters work.Thankfully, the familiar material shoots out of his wrists and he’s rocketed upward.
He zip lines over the crowds, searching for familiar faces along with the elusive Gamora. (Is Aunt May here? What about Ned? He thinks he makes out Channing Tatum’s face at one point.)
He’s in mid-swing when he stops, a realization hitting him. He still doesn’t know what Gamora looks like.
Peter swears under his breath and swings onto a stable branch in a nearby tree. Looking out into the expanse of orange, he realizes he’s too far from Quill to go back now.
Okay, he thinks to himself. What do I know about Gamora?
She’s female. Probably an alien. Really cool. And... that’s all I got.
Peter’s gaze sweeps over the crowd again. Not every being is human in the crowds. He sees multiple aliens milling about, scaring quite a few civilians. Plenty of weird creatures are roaming the place.
She could be right under his nose for all he knows, but he doesn’t have a specific enough description to be sure. If only he could search for her by name.
I wonder...
He sits in silence for a few more seconds, and then hesitantly calls out, “Karen?”
Immediately, screens pop into his vision. “Hi, Peter! How can I help you today?”
He sighs, relieved to hear the AI’s chipper voice.
“Yo, Karen. Do you think you can run a background check on an alien named Gamora and see if she’s here?” There’s not much chance of this working, but hey, no harm in trying, right?
“I’d love to, Peter, but I’m not getting any connection in here. I can help you look though.”
Peter sighs again, this time in resignation. “Never mind. Thanks, Karen.”
“No problem!”
Guess he’s gotta make his way back. He starts to swing back towards Peter Quill, searching hopelessly for this Gamora lady.
He finds Starlord leaning against a tree trunk, eyes closed in deep concentration. Peter swings onto a branch unnoticed, blending in with the red leaves around him.
He sticks his head out so he’s upside down in front of Star-Lord. “Hey Mr. Quill-“
Quill’s eyes snap open. “Jesus, kid. Announce yourself next time!” His muscles are tensed.
“I kinda did- never mind.” Peter extracts himself from the tree, managing not to fall on his face. “Sorry I ran off too soon,” he says, taking off his mask.
Quill unclenches his fists. “S’okay, kid. I know too much about being impulsive. My impulses got us here in the first place.”
Although he doesn’t say it, he’s obviously referring to the first fight on Titan, where Quill’s anger snapped Thanos out of his subdued state.
“You almost had him. Just a few more seconds, and we would’ve had the gauntlet. Just a few more seconds, and we would’ve won. Maybe we could’ve brought her back.” Quill speaks in a near-whisper. His eyes are haunted with grief, anger, guilt, and so many other emotions Peter can’t name.
Peter doesn’t know what to do, but he hates seeing Quill like this. He’s drowning in this pool of self-loathing that seems to swallow him whole.
“It’s a human emotion, Mr. Quill,” Peter hesitantly whispers. “Any of us would have done the same. If Thanos did that to Aunt May or Mr. Stark... well, I would’ve reacted the same way.”
Quill flashes Peter a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, kid, but you don’t have to say that. It really was my fault. You almost had the frickin’ gauntlet, and then I...” He trails off, eyes shining with tears.
“He killed her for that soul stone.” His voice has a harder edge to it now, full of fury. “He killed her for a freakin’ rock. A rock was more important than his goddamn daughter. And he won.” Quill spits the last sentence out as if it’s poison. Tears travel down his cheeks, sparkling like drops of flame in the light of the dome. He turns his head to the sky, eyes closed.
For a few seconds, all is quiet, with only the distant hum of voices and the clearer small sobs from Star-Lord breaking the looming silence.
“You’re wrong, Peter.” A deep, female voice breaks through the reverie.
For a second, Peter thinks she’s talking to him, but judging by the way Quill snaps to attention, she’s referring to Peter Quill.
Peter hears the sound of footsteps getting louder behind him. He turns around slowly toward the newcomer.
A woman walks around the tree trunk behind Peter, and he feels his eyes widen.
She’s tall, with an athletic figure and a strut that tells you she means business. Her dark red-tinted hair cascades over her shoulders in waves, and her hooded eyes seem to Peter as if they’re staring right through him. But the most noticeable thing about her is her bright green skin, muted only slightly by the orange around them.
Peter remembers when the leaf blew past them, and Quill desperately turned towards it. The leaf was green, the same color as her skin.
The woman looks absolutely badass.
Her face is composed, but her lip ticks up in a small smile.
Peter hears a sound from behind him, and turns to see Quill in a complete emotional 180 from a minute ago. His expression can only be described as absolute, unadulterated joy.
Female. Check.
Probably alien. Double check.
Really cool. Triple check.
The woman lets her face break out into a bigger, but still controlled, smile at the sight of Quill.
“You’re wrong, Peter,” she continues, “because he hasn’t won at all. His ‘goddamn daughter’”- she makes quotation marks with her fingers-“is right here with you, and Thanos absolutely has not won yet, because we’re gonna defeat him.”
She smiles her biggest yet. “And as for now,” Gamora says, spreading her hands, “welcome to the Soul Stone.”