Chapter Text
Ava stood behind Nebula, arms crossed, as the alien did her work. Something about the power source dying after being left on for so long, she said. Ava, whose phasing was going more and more out of control with every second that went by, didn’t really care about the specifics of it all. All she had ever wanted was control, control over the molecules in her body, control over her fate. Maybe she resented the fact that all she could do was stand by and watch as Nebula tried to fix her problem.
Focus, she thought to herself, as she glitched away for another moment, searing pain slicing through her entire body. Focusing on something helped, sometimes. She chose to focus on Nebula, who was messing around with a wrench. Her movements were stiff, robotic, her shoulders tense with stress. Her face was stoic, but every few moments she had to pause and breathe deeply, perhaps to calm herself down. No matter how many deep breaths she took, however, she still looked deeply uncomfortable and like there was definitely somewhere else she would rather be.
“You didn’t have to come,” Ava said. She wanted to put a hand on Nebula’s shoulder, maybe massage it with her thumb. Ava had always craved touch, always allowed the thoughts of hugs and handshakes and fist bumps to linger in the back of her mind. Even though she had long ago accepted the idea that this dream she had, a dream of handholding and pointless touches, was impossible, she allowed it to haunt her. She felt light on her feet when thinking about it. “I’m sure I could’ve convinced one of the others.”
“You wouldn’t have liked any of them,” Nebula answered quickly. Every word was clear, emphasized, as if at one point in her life she had faced consequences for them not being that way. “They’re the worst.”
“Scott liked them.”
“Scott’s an idiot.” Nebula paused, breathing. Her shoulders sagged for a moment before tightening right back up again. “No offense. Sorry.” The words were an afterthought, if that. It was as if she had only learned of apologies very recently and still wasn’t quite sure how to go about them.
“Don’t be sorry. You’re not wrong,” Ava said, a ghost of a smile gracing her face.
Nebula turned her head slightly in Ava’s direction, surprised by this response. She turned back to her work soon enough, though, toying with some of the wires closer to the van as Ava fiddled with her own fingers. She knew every inch of her hands so well as they were the only ones she was able to touch without her phasing getting in the way. Sometimes, when she was young and particularly lonely, she would trace the lines on the palm of her hand and pretend she was only doing it because she chose to, that she hadn’t been forced into her loneliness by extenuating circumstances.
She was interrupted by the sound of the machine whirring to life and a tired sounding voice coming through the walkie-talkie on one of the desks. “Okay, listen, this is not as funny as you guys think it is. What, did you just leave? Eating dinner? Let me guess: you left a camera here so you can film all of my quote un-quote overdramatic reactions and upload it on the internet. Well, guess what? You’re not going to have any material. None. Because I am handling this like a champ. I haven’t feared for my life once. I mean, yeah, I’m probably never going to let you guys send me in here alone ever again, but like, I feel like that’s a pretty… well-regulated reaction.”
Ava found herself glancing towards Nebula with a joking grin on her face, one that said: “Yeah, he’s always like this.” Nebula didn’t smile back, but her shoulders loosened a little; Ava saw that as a win. She picked up the walkie, holding it probably too close to her lips. “Scott?”
“Ava? What are you- Where’s Hope?”
“It’s a long story. We’re going to get you-” Ava phased away for a moment. When she came back, she was struck by a pain so intense she found herself on the ground, even more hurt radiating through her skull. She grimaced, clenching her fists tightly and biting her tongue- a confirmation that she was real- before sitting up and reaching for the walkie again. “We’re going to get you out.” She let the device slip from her fingers again, fearful of the tightness in her chest that would accompany it phasing through her hands again.
Scott was quiet for a second, probably trying to guess what had happened. “Who’s we?”
Ava reluctantly reached for the device only to find it being snatched away from her.
“We’ll explain everything when you get out. Now, shut up. I can’t focus with you monologuing back here,” Nebula said, her voice intimidating in a clearly rehearsed way. It seemed to be effective enough, however, because Scott remained silent as Nebula went to work on the piece of technology in front of her.
A strange feeling fluttered in Ava’s stomach. She remembered feeling it in abundance when Janet had her hands on Ava’s forehead, the full-body relief that had nearly turned her knees to jelly. Gratitude, maybe. Gratitude that she didn’t have to embarrass herself again, gratitude that she didn’t have to deal with the fear or rejection and judgement that came with asking for help. Nebula pressed a few more buttons, and, suddenly, the portal lit up before them. It flashed for a few moments before Scott appeared in front of them, his mask flying up and a bottle full of quantum particles in her hands. Ava’s chest ached in anticipation.
Scott looked at the two, his eyebrows furrowing when his gaze landed on Nebula. He seemed to realize there were slightly more pressing concerns, however, as he quickly made his way over to Ava’s side, holding out the bottle. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “You don’t technically need these for, like, another week or so, right?” His voice got quiet before he kept speaking. “And who’s that? And where is everyone?”
Before answering any of the questions, she took the capsule from Scott’s hands, pressing a few buttons on the end and allowing the particles to string her back together. The relief that flew through her was instantaneous and all-consuming. The constant ache in her bones dulled down until it was near silent. It took everything she had not to cry.
“Ava?” Scott asked again, holding out his hand to help her up. She took it gratefully, taking note of how, even through the Ant-Man suit, Scott’s hand was warm.
“You were in there for five weeks,” She stated. She’d never been a good bearer of bad news. “You missed… Something bad happened.”
Something in Scott’s face shifted. He went from confusion to worry to a calm sort of fear, the most disturbing kind.“Where’s Hope?”
Ava turned to Nebula, a silent plea for help. Ava only knew what she heard in the news, had only heard Tony Stark’s jokes about death, his summary of the whole thing, riddled with his desperate apologies. Scott followed Ava’s gaze, turning to the stranger. “What happened?”
Nebula blinked, pursing her lips. “There was a monster,” She started. She seemed stunned by how easily the word ‘monster’ slipped off her tongue. “He got hold of six powerful weapons, the Infinity Stones. With them, he was able to eradicate half of all life with the snap of his fingers.”
“They’re calling it the Decimation,” Ava added. “I… I came here looking for you and Hope, and all I found... “ Scott’s face twisted in anticipation. Ava closed her eyes. “All I found was dust. Everyone here, Hank, Janet, Hope… No one’s heard from them.”
Something in Scott’s expression sunk. That part of Ava, the one that craves touch and emotional intimacy, wanted to reach out, maybe put a hand on his shoulder. Instead, she stood frozen, wringing her fingers. She watched silently as her friend squeezed his eyes shut, hanging his head in grief.
“Cassie?” He asked. He asked slowly, like he’s afraid of the answer, like if it took her too he kind of didn’t want to know.
“She’s okay,” Ava said. “I went by when I was looking for you and the others. She’s worried about you. You should… talk to her.”
Ava thought about Dr. Foster. Thought about how when she first called him, when everyone was disappearing, how she listened as the phone rang and rang and rang and then asked if she wanted to leave a message. She called again and again and again, as many times as she could until the glitch came back and her phone toppled to the ground. She imagined Cassie felt the same way.
Ava reached clumsily into her pocket, pulling out the flip phone Foster had given her before everything happened. She held it out to Scott. “You can call her on the way. We’ve got to get back to the Avengers.”
Scott paused in the middle of dialing the number, looking at Ava with an expression of pure confusion on his face. “The Avengers?!”
---
Tony was not sure what to expect as he fell asleep. He thought maybe it would be like the first time: Peter would stare at him with wide eyes before flying over to tackle him in a hug. He considered the fact that maybe he would be greeted by nothing at all, a black abyss to spend eternity rotting in. He thought that maybe, this would be what finally killed him. It would be fitting, he figured, if love would be the thing that finally, finally destroyed him. It would be a perfect arc, he thought, a tragically poetic ending. His fears couldn’t kill him; the only thing that could kill Tony Stark was himself.
However, he was not greeted with a tackle-hug, a black abyss, or an afterlife. Instead, his eyes caught on Peter Parker, who was looking smaller than he ever had before. He had curled himself into a ball, his eyes open and staring at nothing as he rocked himself back and forth. He was mumbling something under his breath; Tony was too far away to tell if it was nonsense or not. Peter hadn’t even seemed to pick up on the fact that someone else was here, that he wasn’t alone anymore.
Tony’s chest ached. He was lucky he wasn’t standing up because he was sure if he had been, he would’ve fallen right down. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt tight. Tony wondered how long the the hours Tony had been gone felt like to Peter. The time had flown by for Tony, as he was immensely preoccupied with trying to come back, but for Peter? He had been sitting here alone, the dark sky unchanging, the silence suffocating, and the air always tasting just the same.
“Pete?” He said.
The kid didn’t look his way. He just kept rocking, kept whispering under his breath. It was as if Tony hadn’t said anything at all. Chills ran down the man’s spine. He exhaled heavily, slowly crawling his way over to the kid. As he grew closer, he began to decipher what it was Peter was saying. He would huff out a breath as if it was a chore before muttering a number under his breath.
“3756….” Breath. “3757…” Breath. “3758…”
Tony reached out hesitantly, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. The boy in question must’ve jumped a foot in the air, turning towards Tony in shock. “How… How long have you been there?” Peter was jittery, clearly. His eyes were wild, leaning back on his hands as if he was afraid that if he touched Tony he would vanish in a puff of smoke.
“Since around 3750, I guess,” Tony joked, his humorous tone falling flat.
Embarrassment flashed across Peter’s features, his shoulders sagged a little bit, presumably in relief, and his breathing sounded less robotic. “I’m glad you’re here.” He said. “I didn’t know if you were going to be able to come back.”
Peter’s expression teetered a bit. He looked like he wanted to cry but couldn’t will any tears to come out. Tony carefully put a hand on the kid’s knee, making sure to move slowly so as not to scare him. “Of course I came back. I told you I would. I’m no liar.”
“I know.”
It was quiet, and Tony had never hated Thanos more than he did at that one moment. Peter, smiley, kind, way-too-optimistic Peter, had been completely destroyed. His whole life he would be trapped in this room; Tony knew from experience. Every time he fell asleep he would be surrounded by the black walls, counting to some number he would never reach. He hated Thanos because even though Peter wasn’t technically dead, Thanos had killed him.
“You alright?” Tony asked. His tone was light because he was Tony Stark, and Tony Stark couldn’t be serious for one goddamn second. He had to make everything a fucking joke, everything an over-the-counter pill to swallow.
Peter laughed, then, but it was humorless. “Dude. I’ve been sitting here for, like, five goddamn hours with no idea whether or not I was going to be all alone for my entire existence.”
“Hey. Language.” Tony’s voice was strained at best. He considered making a joke about what Steve would say if he had heard him just then, but another question popped in his brain first. “How’d you know it’s been five hours?”
Peter shrugged. “Average person breathes, like, 16 times a minute, right? But, I’d rather underestimate how long I’ve been here than overestimate, so, I counted my breaths, and for every 12, I assumed a minute had passed by. I got up to 3758, so, that’s about five and a quarter hours, right?”
“Yeah,” Tony said, taken aback. “Sometimes I forget what a little genius you are.” Even under the circumstances, Peter smiled at the compliment, basking in the praise. Maybe some things would never change.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” He let out a breath. His eyebrows knitted together a little bit, and Tony could tell that he was frustrated that he lost what little sense of time he had. “How’d you get back here?”
“Well, Thanos knocked me out with the gauntlet the first time, right, so I figured if I zonked out again I’d come back. Wish it was that easy. Everyone seemed to have a thing against me sleeping, which is weird, because if a couple years ago, I had been begging to sleep, I’m sure half the people I know would literally pass out in relief. Took me a little while to get around that, but I did. Always do.”
“They’re going to wake you up again soon, aren’t they?”
“Probably the second they find out I fell asleep.”
Peter’s eyes fogged up. “Will you come back again?”
“Of course I will. You really think I’d leave you in here?”
“Not if you had a choice.” The implication was clear: eventually, Tony would have no choice but to leave him in here. What if there was no way to get him out? What if, suddenly, their connection ceased, and Tony couldn’t come back anymore? “But, what if you were only allowed to come here twice, and it’ll never happen again? And you guys can’t find any way to get us out?”
Tony shrugged even though the very thought ate away at his chest. “I’d build a time machine and keep you from ending up here in the first place.”
Peter smiled a bit at that. “Please don’t do that, Mr. Stark. Time travel is confusing enough in movies. Imagine trying to do it in real life.”
“I’m sure it’s straightforward enough. All I have to do is not keep my parents from ever meeting, right? Not fu- screw up the timeline?”
“You also can’t talk to past you. Or tell them any information from the future that you know.” Peter’s eyes widened. “How would you even be able to stop Thanos if you couldn’t tell anyone you knew he was coming?”
Tony huffed out a laugh. “Do you only watch nerd movies? Besides, I’ve been warning them about Thanos for years. Granted, they were vague warnings, but they were warnings nonetheless.”
“I believed you.”
And where did that get you? Tony thought. Anyone who’d ever believed Tony, ever known Tony, trusted Tony, suffered. Everyone who stuck by him. God knows Pepper wouldn’t have gone through so much emotional trauma if she had gotten a job at Oscorp. Rhodey might have never fallen out of the sky if he hadn’t been Tony’s best friend. Peter might not be stuck alone here if Tony hadn’t convinced him to go to Germany.
“I know you did,” Tony said softly. He doesn’t even think about his words before he says them. “I’m sorry that it wasn’t enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re here, all alone, and I’m sorry.”
“I don’t- Why are you sorry? It’s not… It’s not your fault.”
“I-”
“Mr. Stark. You’re the good guy here. You’re the hero.” Peter said the words with a confused grin on his face, as if they were obvious. As if it was a known fact. “You’re the guy I watched on TV when I was younger saving New York. Saving humanity. You’re gonna save everyone again. I know you are. You always do.”
Tony thought of Charlie Spencer, the casualties of the Battle of New York, Peter turning to dust before his eyes. “I’m sorry that I even have to save you from this. I should’ve been able to protect you the first time.”
“It’s not your fault!”
“But Peter-”
“I don’t want to hear it. Not your fault.”
“Peter-”
“Alright. Fine. You want to play it that way. It’s all your fault. You’re the one who did this to me. But you know what?”
For the life of him, Tony had no idea what Peter was playing at. “What?” He said, feeling stupid.
“I forgive you.”
The world seemed to calm down for a moment. Tony’s brain slowed, his thoughts freezing on the words. He stalled for a minute, considering the idea and its implications. I forgive you. It was clear as day. I forgive you. I forgive you. Tony was sorry, so sorry, and he was forgiven. “You…”
“I forgive you, Mr. Stark.”
Tony’s breath caught in his throat. He totally, one hundred percent, had no idea what was happening. Something about the confusion, the oddness of the conversation, made him feel a bit lighter, like there was a coat of dust over his heart that had just blown away in the breeze.
Without thinking, he leaned over, pulling Peter into a hug. The kid hugged him back tight, so tight that if this wasn’t some sort of dream dimension with orange tints around the edges, his super strength probably would’ve left bruises on Tony’s shoulders. He didn’t mind, though. He just ruffled the kid’s hair with his spare hand, the words echoing in his head.
I forgive you.
---
Meanwhile, as Ava, Scott, and Nebula drive back to the Compound, Nebula’s StarkPhone rang in her pocket. Hope, dangerous, painful, hope, clutched at her chest. She pulled it out, squinting at the buttons for a moment before hitting the green ‘answer’ icon. Scott and Ava looked at her expectantly as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line, her face stony.
She pulled the device away from her ear, hanging her head in sorrow.
“What’s going on now?” Scott asked.
On the way back, Nebula had briefed the two on what exactly was going on, from her upbringing with Thanos to Tony’s rainbow coma. For a moment, she wished they could read her because she was sick of having to explain. She was sick of hiding, sick of sharing, sick of it all.
“Stark apparently woke up briefly before knocking himself out again,” She said. “They don’t… They don’t understand what woke him up the first time, and they don’t know how to replicate it.”
She considered that maybe she shouldn’t have underestimated the cruelty of the world.
---
When Clint Barton first arrived at the Avengers Compound, the whole place was complete chaos. People wearing outfits reminiscent of campy period pieces that played only at local film festivals flew through the halls, a destination clearly on their mind but the idea of how to get there thoroughly confusing. He assisted a few of them as he made his way to the lounge, where Natasha said they should meet. He made lighthearted jokes at Thor’s expense, winking at the visitors before making his way towards his friends. Nat had warned him that there were some guests from Asgard, but she hadn’t been honest about exactly how many of them there were.
She had very briefly updated him on the situation. She told him about Thanos, how they went after him, how everyone was fine except Tony, who had miraculously woke up from some coma before knocking himself right back out again so he could see his kid. Hearing this news spiked a weird sort of feeling in his stomach. Maybe it was guilt, he thought. Regret. To be frank, he hadn’t really considered that Tony had people that he cared about other than Pepper.
The two of them had only been even somewhat close for a minute, back in 2013 when the team was still a team, when Tony invited them over to the Tower once every two weeks for dinner and a movie. Everything had changed after Ultron, though. Clint didn’t understand Tony. He never truly did. He didn’t understand why he had to go out of his way to prevent threats that hadn’t even occurred to most of the others. He didn’t understand why Tony’s hands got shaky sometimes, why he would rub at his chest above his reactor as if his skin were just too tight. Sure. Clint had his fair share of trauma. All of them did. Honestly, that was what helped them bond so fast.
Everyone handled it differently, though. Natasha was quick to bury it deep, deep down, suppress it under years of trained happiness. Clint did something similar. He joked and laughed and only ever cried when he knew he was alone. He wasn’t quite sure what Steve did. It seemed like he kind of held on tight to what everything was like before. He held onto who Bucky had been before everything. He held onto Peggy Carter, looking at her face in his compass before every decision he made. Thor was an open book for the most part. He was a fighter, quick to revenge. Bruce too bottled everything up; the only difference was that actually helped him. He used it all with the Hulk. Always angry, or whatever it was he said.
Clint had never come across someone like Tony, though: someone who seemed so open, so easy to read, but was anything but. Everyone, the whole world, knew what happened to Tony. They knew he was kidnapped, knew his old mentor figure had been electrocuted to death donning a suit much too similar to the one Tony himself had confessed to wearing. They knew when his house got blown up; they watched as he carried a nuke on his shoulders. They knew that he had flown up to space and come back down looking much smaller than before. In any way you put it, Tony Stark should’ve been an open book. Clint could tell he was hiding something. He was hiding behind a facade of some sort. It was too hard to tell if Tony was being himself or just being what he knew the people wanted him to be. Maybe it had been so long that even the man himself didn’t know the difference.
Clint had never understood him, not one bit, until he had heard what he did up on Titan 2.0. Putting yourself on the line for your kids was something Clint could definitely understand. Loving your kids so much that you would flip the whole world upside down was something that he understood, too. The understanding was awful, in a way, because to understand was to regret. To understand meant that he had to reevaluate everything he had ever said to Tony, hold it under a microscope and see if it still checked out. It didn’t. It didn’t check out. Clint wasn’t one for guilt, not at all, but when he walked past MedBay to see Pepper Potts sitting on a bench right outside, another blonde woman comforting her quietly, certainly made him feel something.
Natasha was the first one to notice his entrance, tossing a small, phony smile his way before heading over to his side.
“Any updates?” Clint asked, choking down the tightness in his throat.
“No,” Nat answered quickly, too quickly, as if she had anticipated what he was going to say. “Or maybe there are; we just don’t know yet. Bruce is pissed. I don’t think he’s stepping out of that room until Tony is back on his feet.”
“Why not?”
Natasha looked at him. He felt a bit scrutinized by her gaze. She could always read him, always knew what he was thinking whether he wanted her to or not. “Guilt.”
Clint caught her gaze, ignoring the way her eyes shimmered like she knew she had caught him. It was a game of cat and mouse, but neither of them minded playing. In fact, it’s what made their friendship so enjoyable. “Why would he feel guilty? It’s not his fault that Stark did what he did.”
Natasha raised her eyebrow slightly, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. She had always appreciated double meaning, especially if it proved her right, and Clint had certainly just proved her right. “He’s just upset he ever let him leave his bedside in the first place. Gave him the perfect opportunity to do whatever magic he did.”
“It wasn’t magic, though.”
“Hmm?”
“Magic isn’t what knocked him out. He convinced someone to help him, right?” Tony’s manipulation was one of the most interesting parts of his facade. The man always seemed to know the right thing to say to flatter his companion, the right pick up line or apology.
“I don’t think she took much convincing. She’s always been on his side.”
“Pepper?”
“Carol Danvers.” Clint furrowed his eyebrows, so Natasha launched into an explanation. “Captain Marvel. She was the one Fury sent that message to when he Vanished.”
Clint nodded. “Why haven’t we heard of her? Didn’t you leak all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files?”
“She was too top secret for S.H.I.E.L.D. Too top secret for us, too. Apparently she was around in the 90's. She’s from space. Has superpowers.”
“Damn,” Clint said. “I just shoot arrows. Sometimes I wonder what I’m still doing here.”
“Trust me,” She deadpanned. “Everyone else is wondering why you’re still here, too.”
Clint grinned back at her, leaning over to bump her shoulder with his. “I know why I’m here.”
“Why?”
“I missed you.”
Before Natasha could answer, a voice came from down the hallway. Clint turned, recognizing the woman speaking as Carol Danvers.
“He’s awake!”