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When it was all over, and Tony's ashes had been scattered in the place he loved most, Peter decided to make himself useful. At first, he trailed May around the house, doing whatever she did - picking up bottles and glasses, taking empty plates from the guests, bringing drinks to people all wearing the same sober, stunned expression. He looked them all in the eye and smiled, which was supposed to be reassuring. That's what May had always told him. But like the light dimming over the lake, his smile faded a little more every time he plastered it on his frozen face, until eventually, it refused to appear at all.
He stood in the hallway near the stairs, where all the tasteful vases and art glass had been squeezed out by the dozens of flower arrangements and cards, and watched as Pepper cleaned Morgan's face and smoothed her dress. For some reason, it made him remember the times Tony had repaired the rips in his suit while chatting with Peter about gadgets and the Hot Celebrity 100, or listened to him tell stories about the thieves he'd been rounding up in Queens and babble about his science homework. His homework, what had Peter been thinking, all that time he wasted complaining about stupid stuff when he was going to lose Tony and half the world was about to end. Not that he'd noticed that part, because he'd been dead.
Now, the world really did seem to have ended, or at least it seemed that way to everybody who'd loved Tony, and Peter knew- he knew - that it was partly because of him. He pressed himself back into the corner, and fought to keep the tears from coming again.
"Peter!" Morgan said brightly, because of course she'd caught sight of him. He stepped hesitantly out of the shadows, and the little girl he'd just met a day ago ran straight for him. He picked her up and looked at her solemn expression. It was crazy how much she looked like Tony; he'd made that same frowny face when he was thinking. Pepper followed her daughter down the hall, favoring Peter with a warm smile. How she could be so kind to him, Peter would never understand. He was still filled with shame every time he thought about how he fell apart on the battlefield while she was trying to say goodbye to her husband. He had been in the way. He couldn't even get the Infinity Stones across the battlefield.
Morgan's little fingers patted across the bruise on his cheek. "You need a band-aid," she informed him gravely. "Mama?"
"I'll make sure Peter knows where we keep them, sweetheart," she said. In a confidential whisper, she added, "You have your choice of glitter hearts or Iron Man."
That did it; Peter couldn't stop the hitching breath that choked him. His arms were weak; his whole body was numb.
"Here, I'll take her," Pepper said. She lifted Morgan from his arms. "It's time for bed, anyway." Pepper set her down and said, "Go kiss Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy goodnight, and I bet one of them will read you a story."
"Story time!" Morgan said, with a delighted smile, and off she went.
"She's so happy," Peter said, turning helpless eyes on Pepper.
"She was dearly loved," Pepper answered. She brushed Peter's hair out of his face. "And so were you. Don't think for a second that Tony would regret what has happened, Peter. If you knew him at all, you know better. More than anything, he wanted to keep those he loved safe."
"I do, I know," Peter said, but tears were flowing down his face anyway.
"Right." Pepper put her arm around him. "We're getting you a band-aid, and then you should go out to the workshop for a while. It's in the garage. Nothing fancy, or at least, not like the compound or the tower. But it'll be familiar to you."
"Are you sure?" he asked, wiping his face.
"Very sure." She gave him another small smile. "I'm glad you're here. I hope you and May will stay a few days. Morgan seems to have adopted you."
"She's a great kid. Thanks, Pepper," he said. She kissed him on the cheek, and went off to retrieve her daughter from whichever uncle was spoiling her.
There was a lighted path in the woods, and at the end of it, a rickety structure that was too wobbly to be a barn, but might be a 'garage.' The illusion ended, though, when the external lights snapped on as he approached, and Friday's voice said, "Identification scan complete. Welcome, Peter." The heavy steel doors detached and slid open, inviting him into the large, open space. Once the doors closed behind him, the lights flickered on.
Workbenches and tables were shoved against the wall on two sides, littered with tools and detritus, a few rags crumpled and thrown across whatever Tony had last been working on. Peter was suddenly consumed with curiosity - what had he been working on, anyway? And then it hit him - he'd never know the answer. He'd never hear Tony's laugh again, or see his hands dancing in the air, solving problems so complex that Peter could only begin to grasp them. It was like someone had taken all the air out of him, and he groped for the workbench so it could support his weight.
"I miss him, too," said a voice from the corner.
A millisecond later, Peter was on the wall, staring down in disbelief at the guy he'd totally failed to detect, who was sitting in the small space between the end of the workbench and an empty display storage case. Since he'd discovered his powers, he had always been in tune with everything around him, from the softest sound to the presence of unseen dangers. But he'd also never been so distracted by the inside of his own head.
He hopped down onto the workbench and then to the ground, and said, "Uh, hi. Um." There was no explaining away the fact that he'd been clinging to a vertical surface with a foot and one hand.
"It's okay, I already knew you were Spider-Man," the guy said, wiping his face and eyes. He looked much worse than Peter felt, which was saying a lot. "There were a lot of conspiracy theories, after you. Um. When you were in space. Helping Tony. And after. I figured it out from online footage of you and of visitors to the Avengers compound."
"Really? Huh." Peter took a couple tentative steps forward. "You knew Tony?"
"He crashed his suit outside my town once. I helped him repair it. We were..." The guy ran a nervous hand through his hair. "He was my friend."
"Mine too." Peter stuck out his hand. "Peter Parker."
"Harley Keener." Harley levered himself up from the floor, shook Peter's hand solemnly and said, "So can you just...stick to whatever you touch? Your hand doesn't feel sticky."
"It's complicated," Peter said, mostly because it felt like a lot of effort to talk about himself. Too hard.
Harley seemed to get it, because he didn't ask any other questions. He was quiet for a second, then added, "I don't have any superpowers, except being persistent, and maybe failing the same robotics test twice in a row."
"Ouch," Peter said, hissing in sympathy.
"Tony asked me if I made wasting money a habit, or only if it wasn't my money. I told him I don't have any money, so how would I know? Everything good I have, he gave me." Harley smiled sadly and ducked his head down. "I just can't believe he's not here. I didn't think anything could..."
Peter nodded, and they looked away from each other. Too soon to be sharing personal stories with strangers; it was enough to share the grief. He took a moment to really look around. Storage cabinets dotted the far wall, and Dum-E was parked silent and still beside them; his charging light blinked slowly, like a resting heartbeat. The workshop smelled faintly of singed wood, which was a little surprising, since Peter had never seen Tony working with anything but metal. But there was a small forest of wooden picture frames on top of a drafting table, filled with photos - Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, various people Peter didn't recognize, and the one he just met. Black Widow. All the Avengers. And Peter. He flinched, and swallowed hard.
Friday chose that moment to say, "Peter, there's a file on my private server I was instructed to share with you once all the individuals present were in the room. May I play it?"
"Sure, Friday," Peter said. He glanced at Harley, who shrugged, and Peter felt the sting of tears in his eyes once again.
"Playing 'Take The Kids To School,'" Friday said, and Tony's image flickered to life in the center of the room. They both gasped; for Peter, it was both painful and beautiful to see Tony there, looking at him through time with a wry, pleased smile on his face.
"Mr. Parker, Mr. Keener, I'm certainly glad you've decided that crying is for babies and have come out here to get some real work done. I'm sure you were underfoot in Pep's kitchen. You both excel at being underfoot. So here we are." Tony glanced sideways, toward Harley, who shifted backwards as if startled. "If Friday is playing this message for you, I have gone into the great beyond because we have a dangerous plan that's very likely to go incredibly off the rails at some point. But we've all agreed, it's worth it." Tony paused. "I'm here to tell you personally, no matter how it turns out, it was the right play. For the ones we lost..." Tony looked back Peter's direction, and it was like Peter's heart was collapsing in on itself with misery. "And for the ones still here, who were just sad all the time. Honestly, there's only so much grief and self-pity a person can be expected to stand. People die. No need to be a wuss about it."
That brought a ghost of a smile to Harley's face. In answer to Peter's lifted eyebrow, he said quietly, "It's an in-joke."
"So I won't be there to be the team sugar daddy anymore, but it's fine, I'm sure some other rich super-genius will step up. The world is full of them. Actually it's not, I am one of a kind, let's face it, but I have heard about a young rich super-genius from Wakanda who was doing the kind of advanced technical work I could only dream of, once upon a time, before Thanos. If this all goes to plan, she'll be back to doing those things. And maybe, if you play your cards right, that young lady will teach you a thing or two."
Peter glanced at Harley, whose confused look confirmed he didn't get it, either.
"But in case that doesn't pan out, either - is it just me, or are there a lot of variables here? - I've been working on a little something. It isn't quite ready, so I'll have Friday finish constructing it over the next few months. It's a database version of me. Not quite JARVIS, not quite Friday, not as sophisticated. But a foundational AI that has some of my stellar personality qualities will be able to chat with you in real time. Unlike me, because I'm a busy person, it can listen to your stories about fighting crime - by the way, Mr. Parker, you really need to stop taking food from strangers, I don't care how grateful they are. Maybe advise you when you're blowing stuff up - Harley, I really do feel that I was a poor influence on you and you've never stopped knocking people over since. Not that I mind; I find it's a useful trait in life."
Tony paused, and bowed his head for a second; the hologram flickered. When Tony looked up, his face was as serious as Peter had ever seen it, and that was counting the time Tony had taken his suit back. "Just one more thing to ask of you, if you wouldn't mind doing a dead guy a favor. There's this beautiful, perfect little girl, and her name is Morgan, and she has the misfortune to have a dad who just doesn't know how to quit while he's ahead. She's going to need people to be there for her. There's a lot of years I'm going to miss. Teach her a thing or two. Help her stand up to bullies, so that Steve Can Do This All Day Rogers doesn't get in there ahead of you and teach her bad habits. Make sure she's never bored. And don't let her go to MIT when she's still a kid, I know from experience it doesn't end well."
"We won't let you down," Peter breathed, as Tony's image peered out at him.
"I'm sure you won't let me down, Mr. Parker. Mr. Keener. And let the other kids in on it, will you? You two don't have a monopoly on all the cool shit. Keener, there's some schematics for you on the drive, Friday will see to it that you get them. Pete, Happy will see to it you have what you need when you need it." Tony smiled. "You both make me proud, though I have absolutely no genetic responsibility for you. Keep it up. And remember, rules are meant to be broken. Also, tattoos are hard to remove, don't do it." He patted his hand over his heart, and smiled at out at them, and then the image was gone.
"Friday. Is that message downloadable?" Harley asked, a quaver in his voice.
"Already sent it to your phones, along with the materials the boss wanted you to have."
"Thanks," Peter said. "The AI he mentioned, is that-"
"Not ready quite yet. He expected you two would help with it. He said I should tell you, one last project for the road."
The big doors cracked open, and Princess Shuri strode through, followed by Ant-Man's kid and Hawkeye's kid - Peter was so bad with names, he knew he really needed to work on it. He'd introduced himself to the princess when she and her family arrived for the service, and embarrassed himself right away by complimenting her fighting skills. She'd rolled her eyes at him and said, Carrier of the gauntlet! There will be war chants about you, Peter Parker, which had made him blush and stammer while she grinned.
Shuri stopped in the center of the room, almost on top of the spot where Tony's image had just been standing, and smiled brightly at him. "Hello, Peter," she said, looking between him and Harley. "Are we interrupting? Ms. Potts shooed us out of the house."
"She sent us both out here, too," Peter said. "This is Harley. He was a friend of Tony's." He tried to muster up a matching smile, but it wouldn't materialize. The other kids were wandering around, touching everything reverently, eyes as big as saucers. He could relate; that feeling about Tony would always be with him.
"I'm Shuri," she said, with a nod to Harley, who nodded back.
They all had something in common, Peter supposed. The Lang kid's dad had been missing, and she probably thought he was dead, which had to have been really hard. Hawkeye's whole family was...wherever Peter had been. He'd been trying not to think about these last five years, and where his consciousness had gone, and whether he was really dead then, and how Tony had been able to fix that. It was impossible to talk about it with May, and sometimes he would forget - it had happened to everyone, both those who lived and those who vanished, not just him. Maybe all the people at the lake for the memorial understood more than most. It was their story, how they'd died, and how they would live - what they had lost and sacrificed, and were willing to sacrifice - and they would carry that knowledge together, always.
He thought it might be cool to have a battle song about the Avengers, and a sudden wave of pride washed over him when he remembered how Tony anointed him as one of them.
"I always wondered about the man who created a new element and built Iron Man," Shuri said. "The man who solved the unsolvable problem of time travel! There's so much to learn from one another. I'm sorry I will never know him." She looked around thoughtfully, then asked, "How is the interface controlled?"
"Hello," Friday answered immediately. "I'm Friday. How can I assist, Princess Shuri?"
"Hello there," Shuri said. "I'm just Shuri." She lifted a hand in the air. The kids drew closer to her, and Peter and Harley moved in closer, too, so they were all in a tight circle, watching Shuri. "Let's see what we have here."
Schematics bloomed into the open space, designs for suits, shields, all sorts of equipment and technology. Peter could make out at least two spider-suit designs. There were so many designs...it was like Tony was still there, in all the things he'd put in place to help and protect them, in the care he had for them.
His projects for the road.
"So very interesting!" Shuri said, as she manipulated through the visual index, processing what she saw faster than Peter could keep track of. "There will be quite a bit to keep you busy, my new friends." She spun up an elegant, twisting mass of code, which sparked red and gold, and above it a project title hovered in the air: MARK MMM.
"Since I suck at robotics, guess I could drop that and take up quantum mechanics," Harley said, shooting Peter a sidelong grin.
For the first time since Tony's death, the answering smile on Peter's face felt true. He stepped in closer still, and lifted his head higher; they'd been given a gift, and it was time to get to work.