Chapter Text
Part One
A lonely speaker in a conversation
Monday, April 23, 2018
When Peter had followed Mr. Stark into space, this wasn’t what he imagined. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it definitely involved helping Mr. Stark. However, it seemed that he had failed at the task. He had failed to get the gauntlet off of the big purple dude (he guessed that he was Thanos, the person that everyone was so freaked out about) and he had to watch, helpless, as Thanos stabbed Mr. Stark. He really thought that that was the worst that could happen, but then Mr. Doctor Strange gave Thanos the time stone. Peter wasn’t quite sure what giving up the stone meant, but he definitely knew that it wasn’t good news. Then, before anyone could stop him, Thanos disappeared.
All-in-all, Peter was seriously regretting his decision to follow Mr. Stark. He had thought that what they were experiencing was the worst thing that could happen. They failed to defeat Thanos on Titan and, now, they could only hope that Earth could survive Thanos' visit. Peter tried not to imagine a world where the Avengers lost. Because that was impossible, right? They were the Avengers. Nothing could stop them. (Peter tried to forget the fact that Thanos had easily defeated Mr. Stark, the Guardians, a wizard, and him.) No, nothing else would go wrong.
But then it did. Peter felt that tingle on the back of his neck that signaled danger and watched as, one by one, the Guardians turned to dust. His sixth sense was absolutely screaming at him, loud enough that Peter had trouble hearing his own thoughts, let alone whatever Mr. Doctor Strange said before he, too, faded into nothing. And that’s when Peter felt the pain. It felt like his healing abilities were trying to heal something, but Peter didn’t know what it was healing. Did he get hurt? He didn’t think so, but he could be wrong. But, even more troubling, it felt like something was preventing his body from healing, a feat that Peter didn’t think was possible.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter called, holding his stomach. The pain was increasing every second. “I don’t feel so good.”
Mr. Stark turned around, his face falling as he seemed to notice the pain that Peter was in. “Kid?”
At this point, it felt like Peter’s entire body was coming apart and that his healing ability was trying (and failing spectacularly) to knit himself back together. He looked down at his hands, his panic growing as he noticed a piece of dust drifting away from it. Was he fading, too? Was he about to meet the same fate as the Guardians and Mr. Doctor Strange? “I-I don’t know what’s happening.”
“You’re going to be alright, kid,” Mr. Stark said.
He stumbled over to Mr. Stark, unable to keep his balance though the pain and panic that he was experiencing. Peter fell into Mr. Stark’s arms and he realized that the end was actually here. But he didn’t want it to come. He was only sixteen; he hadn’t even graduated from high school. He had never told MJ that he liked her.
Peter latched onto Mr. Stark, desperate to stay. “I don’t want to go,” he said. “Please. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go, please, sir.” He repeated the phrase over and over again, everyone he loved flashing before his eyes. May saying “I larb you”; Ned freaking out as he explained that he was Spider-Man; MJ smirking as she showed him a sketch of him that she drew; Mr. Stark helping him with the web formula. Peter didn’t want to leave them behind. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to go. PleasesirIdon’twanttogo.
Peter felt his legs going out from underneath him. He couldn’t feel them anymore. Did that mean that they had already turned into dust? Like the rest of him was about to do? His mantra stopped and he realized that there was no way to prevent this. Again, he regretted his stupid decision to follow Mr. Stark into that stupid spaceship. Peter realized that he never did apologize for that. Nor did he apologize for failing to remove the gauntlet from Thanos' hand. If he had done that, maybe this wouldn’t be happening right now. Peter looked up at Mr. Stark’s face, shocked to see the man’s eyes filling with tears. He realized that he was the one causing Mr. Stark’s pain. If he wasn’t currently dying, there would be no reason for Mr. Stark to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. And he meant it. He was sorry for not following Mr. Stark’s instructions; for failing Mr. Stark; for causing Mr. Stark to cry. He looked away from Mr. Stark, preparing himself for the end. Preparing himself for when he saw his mother and father and Uncle Ben again. After wishing that Mr. Stark and May would move on after he left, Peter closed his eyes, embracing the darkness that came with it.
⋯
Seconds later, Peter opened up his eyes.
“--ter?” someone asked. He felt someone shaking him and turned to see Mr. Doctor Strange crouching next to him. “Peter, can you hear me?”
Peter nodded, groaning as he sat up. He blinked as he tried to remember what had happened for him to end up passed out on a dusty and destroyed planet. As he began to remember, he looked around for Mr. Stark. Not seeing him, Peter turned back to face the wizard. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”
Mr. Doctor Strange stood up, turning back to face the newly revived Guardians. On that note, how were they still alive? How was the wizard still alive? Didn’t they turn to dust? Just like Peter did himself just seconds ago? But wait. If he was still alive, did he actually turn to dust? Maybe he just passed out. But that still didn’t explain the disappearance of Mr. Stark or that blue robot lady (he really couldn’t remember names that well).
Peter stood up, wincing. He was still sore from that big fight they had with Thanos. “Mr. Doctor Strange? Did you hear me? Where’s Mr. Stark?”
The wizard ignored him, waving his hands around. Yellow portals began to pop up around them. With his continued silence, Peter began to hypothesize all the things that could have happened to Mr. Stark. Maybe his mentor had turned to dust as well, but didn’t return like Peter had. Or maybe Thanos had come back after Peter died, and had killed Mr. Stark. All that and more flooded Peter’s brain, unwanted hypotheticals flashing through his mind.
Quill joined Peter in asking the wizard questions. “Yeah, dude? Where’s Stark and Nebula?”
Nebula! Peter thought. That was the name of the blue robot lady!
Mr. Doctor Strange sighed, turning to face them. “I don’t have time for the questions. Our universe is in a delicate state of balance. One wrong move will cause our universe to cease to exist. Wasting time with an explanation will take too long.” He turned around to continue his portal building thingy.
What was that supposed to mean? Peter wanted to ask, but he refrained from asking. Quill, it seemed, didn’t have the same self-discipline.
“Look, I get it that you want to be cyprict and all,” Quill said. “But what the hell happened? I just turned to dust; I think I deserve to know.”
“Fine.” The wizard turned around, clearly annoyed. “Thanos snapped, causing half the universe to die, including the five of us. The remaining Avengers figured out how to undo the Snap, but it took them five years to do so. While undoing the Snap, they gained the attention of 2014 Thanos and are now in a battle with him, a battle that will alter the course of our universe forever.”
He turned back around and, this time, no one bothered him. Peter struggled to comprehend what Mr. Doctor Strange had just said. Not only did he die, but half the universe died? He began to worry if Aunt May, Ned, or MJ had been a part of that half. God, he hoped not. Peter could've sworn that only seconds had passed since he had, well, died (that was a weird thought), but the wizard had said that five years had passed. Five years that Aunt May, Mr. Stark, and all his friends had spent grieving. Five years of history and culture that he had missed. He wondered briefly about the new Star Wars movies that he must’ve missed. Did Ned watch them without him? Or did he not, not wanting to watch them without Peter? Or was he not given the chance to, since he died like Peter had? Briefly, Peter hoped that Ned did die, so they could experience the weirdness of being resurrected together. He squashed that hope quickly, feeling guilty that he had just wished that his best friend was dead.
Mr. Doctor Strange turned to face Peter and the Guardians. “It is time,” he said, cryptic as usual. “The future of our universe rests in our hands.” Seeing their confused faces, he rolled his eyes. “The Avengers need us. Follow me.”
⋯
The next thirty minutes or so passed quickly for Peter. Later, he would only be able to remember flashes of it. Flashes of him fighting alongside the rest of the Avengers (which, Peter had to say, had grown exponentially). Flashes of passing the gauntlet around, playing some twisted game of hot potato. There were some people that Peter recognized (like the giant guy from the fight Mr. Stark had invited him to and Captain America); some people that Peter had heard of, but never actually met (like Thor and the Hulk); and still other people that Peter hadn’t recognized at all (like the woman on the winged horse and the blonde woman who had taken the gauntlet from him after saving his life). Yet there were some things that Peter thought that he would never, ever forget.
Like seeing Mr. Stark. To Peter, the man was just holding him minutes ago while he faded into nothing. To Mr. Stark, it had been five years of thinking that Peter was dead. Peter felt sad that Mr. Stark had to live without him. He had only known him for a year and a half (or was it six and a half years now?), but Peter knew that Mr. Stark was someone special to him and that he was someone special to Mr. Stark. Hell, Peter would even say that he saw Mr. Stark as something more like a father. And the feeling was mutual, Peter realized, when he saw Mr. Stark’s face pale as he saw Peter. He looked like he had seen a ghost (which maybe Peter was a ghost, since he was supposed to be dead).
Peter rushed up to Mr. Stark, helping him up. “Do you remember when we were in space?” he asked, not wasting any time in explaining what had led him to be standing in front of Mr. Stark. “And I got all dusty? Well, I must’ve passed out something”--a much better explanation than “I died and then I was revived;” an explanation that would definitely freak Mr. Stark out--“‘cause I woke up and Mr. Doctor Strange was there. And he said ‘Come on, kid. It’s been five years’”--well, he didn’t exactly say that, but Mr. Stark didn’t need to know the long and, frankly, confusing story of what had really happened after he was revived--“then, he started doing the yellow sparkly thingy that he does,” Peter said, gesturing with his hands to show Mr. Stark what yellow sparkly thingy he was talking about.
Before he could continue the rest of his story, Mr. Stark pulled him into a hug. Peter froze, his mind jumping back to when he had first met Mr. Stark.
They were in a car, just outside of Peter’s apartment building. Peter was sitting next to Mr. Stark, just about to get out. Before he did so, though, Mr. Stark reached towards him. Peter gave him an awkward hug, figuring that hugging him was the reason why Mr. Stark was leaning towards.
“Oh, this isn’t a hug," Mr. Stark said. Peter felt his cheeks flush up in embarrassment as he pulled away from the man. “I’m just grabbing the door for you. We’re not there yet.”
Well, it seemed that they were there now. Peter hugged him back, saying, “This is nice.”
The next big thing that Peter would never, ever forget was Mr. Stark dying. Well, he didn’t actually die, but it was too close of a call for Peter.
“I am inevitable,” Thanos said, snapping his fingers. Nothing happened and Peter would’ve laughed at the comical expression on his face except Mr. Stark had the gauntlet on.
“And I am Iron Man,” Mr. Stark said, carefully enunciating each word, as if each one were a struggle for him.
Peter felt his world collapse as he watched Mr. Stark fall to the ground. He thought he screamed the word “No!” but he wasn't entirely positive about that fact. He rushed to where he had seen Mr. Stark sit down. Colonel Rhodes was already there.
“Mr. Stark?” he asked timidly, like a scared little kid. “Hey.” He rushed forward to crouch down beside his mentor. “Mr. Stark? Can you hear me?” Mr. Stark didn’t respond, staring unfocusedly at Peter. “It’s Peter.” Still, there was no response from his mentor. Tears gathered in Peter’s eyes, threatening to fall. He blinked them away, instead trying to get the man to answer him. “We won, Mr. Stark.” He paused again before repeating his sentence. “We won, Mr. Stark. We won. You did it, sir, you did it.” Mr. Stark’s head tilted to the side, but he still didn’t respond to Peter. This time, Peter couldn’t stop the tears falling from his face. “I’m sorry, Tony,” he said softly, apologizing for not being able to prevent Tony from dying. He had the gauntlet only moments ago. He should’ve been the one to use it, not Tony. Then Miss. Potts was there in a blue Iron Man suit. Colonel Rhodes helped Peter stand and they stood off to the side. Peter didn’t hear the words coming out of Miss. Potts' mouth nor did he feel Colonel Rhodes’ hand on his shoulder. All he felt was the grief rising up in him as he watched yet another family member die. All he heard was Tony’s heartbeat growing weaker and weaker. Dimly, he wondered when Mr. Stark had become Tony in his mind. Finally, he heard a sound and saw a sight that he would never forget. It was the sound of Tony’s heart stopping, never to be heard again; and the sight of his arc reactor going out, never to be lit again.