Left Behind

When Thanos came, he took all of Tony Stark with him. The billionaire might’ve been the only Avenger to survive, but God- he barely felt alive. Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, Steve… the list goes on (and on), and it doesn’t stop. He can’t remember their voices. He can’t remember how they laughed.

He’s currently sat in the old games room, a room which can remember their laughter. Memories that Tony tries so desperately to grip onto as they start to run out of reach. Tony runs his hand over the console that’s gathering dust by the television, coughing gently as it invades his lungs. The slight pain is welcomed, as it at least makes him feel something. Tony stares down at it as if it offends him, blinking gently as he tries to stop tears that he knows will inevitably come.

He misses them. As much as he pretended that he hated them, he’d do anything to get them back, only to go into the lab and avoid them as soon as they were here. But at least he’d be able to hear them, to listen to that laughter he’s forgotten the sound of. A second-hand conversation he used to call it, when he’d mumble a quick joke that he thinks they’d laugh at. He never wanted to isolate himself, but the anxiety he said he never had… it crippled him at times. But they knew- and they helped… but now there’s no-one to bring him back into the real world.

He remembers sitting in Wakanda alongside the team. A united front. The Avengers, a team who hasn’t a lost a single fight since they came together. They ran forward towards Thanos as if he was a bug underneath their shoe, as if they could ask him to leave politely and he’d comply. But as he took the stone from Vision, killing him in the process, all he had left was the time stone… which was currently attached to Strange. And the sorcerer? All he did was let it go… as if it was a gift he’s been hiding behind his back for months.

Tony didn’t even have time to argue. He just had to watch as Thanos’ fingers touched, the snapping louder than it should be. And one by one, they all turned into dust. All of them. And Tony let his eyes shut, waiting for his turn. But it never came. He thought it might be delayed, so he sat amongst the remains of his team and waited. For hours. Until Shuri came over and squeezed him on the shoulder, telling him nobody was coming back.

But they have to, he thought. They must come back. How- how was he supposed to do this by himself? But as one of the last Wakandan pilots landed in the Avengers compound to take Tony home, the billionaire realised it was even worse than he once thought. Pepper was nowhere to be seen- and- and she was pregnant with a little girl. They were so excited. But now… He’s lost his partner and his baby girl- and his family- everyone he loved. What was he supposed to do?

That night, the first night, he found himself in the half-completed nursey. There’s a small teddy in the cot, one he had planned to give to Morgan when she was old enough to comprehend that sort of thing. But now she’s never going to hold it. He’s never going to watch her grow as she holds it close to her chest. He’s never going to see it when she turns eighteen, all broken at the seams. He’d sew it up and cry, watching her as she gives it to her own children whenever that time came. But none of that will happen. It’s a long-forgotten dream.

He remembers sitting in the rocking chair they only put together the week before, hysterically crying at the paint that’s sitting by the wardrobe door… waiting to be used. He looks up above her cot, ‘Morgan’ written in cursive over it. It hurts. A lot. He jumps up from the chair, tearing down the curtains. He kicks the furniture, frustrated. When he’s finished, he looks at the room. It’s a mess. He falls to his knees, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m sorry,” he repeats, feeling guilty that he did this to her room. She’s not here- and he’s already messed up. What if this whole thing was a dream? Pepper’s going to walk through the door and yell at him for ruining their progress any second now. If only that was true.

Glancing out of the window, back in present time, Tony sees… anarchy. It’s the best word for it, anyway. There’s trash everywhere. Cars lined up on the street, abandoned because their snapped owners were dusted as they went to work, or out to dinner- or just for a drive. It’s been a month, and they’re all still there. Glass surrounds the tires. The police are exhausted, so- everyone knows they’ll get away with it. Tony wonders if this is the real life ‘purge’… A film that Clint chose one night. Tony said it was unrealistic, but how wrong he was. If the archer was still here, he’d say ‘I told you so’. Tony would be so happy to have someone else there, that he wouldn’t even say anything about it.

He’s pretty sure there’s fires raging in the area, people not knowing how to handle their emotions… so they destroy everything they can see. Maybe it’s about control. They can force pain on others to pretend their own heart isn’t aching, to pretend that the pain is so much that they’d rather go to sleep and never wake up. Taking it out on other people instead of standing up and facing the grief yourself, it’s the only coping mechanism people seem to have during the end of the world.

And if there’s the few that try to keep normality… well, Tony admires that they try. But personally? He thinks they’re stupid. He sees the odd few taking their normal walk to the shops, airpods in and playing music from artists that are long gone (and a few from the few that are still standing). They walk past other people as they fight, scream, and cry in the streets. They pretend not to see it, because remaining oblivious to everything that has happened is how they try and deal with it.

Tony doesn’t deal with it. He stays inside. Friday checks up on him sometimes, forcing him to grab some more food from the local shop. He stocks up on food every month, and that’s the only time he feels the fresh air. People recognise him, but most ignore who he is. Why would they admire a celebrity and beg for their autograph in a time like this? There’s the odd person who yells, telling him he didn’t do enough for the world. Other people pull them away, saying ‘how dare you’, ‘he tried his hardest’, but he feels like he should agree. He did fail them, and they should look at him with his disgust. It’s what he deserves. Isn’t it?

Tony watches from the window, as if he’s in a trance, as a man in a ski mask holds a lady at knife point. He grabs her purse. Now, Tony could do something. He’s got the nanobot suit on. All it takes is a tap to his chest, and he’d be Iron Man. The hero! The man who… who failed. Who let the titan take half of the universe away. There’s no point in going down and helping. All of them will die soon. The shops will run out of food as the ports collapse, the hospitals will be overrun, and… well, there’s just no point… is there?

But as Tony turns away, he sees… something. A flash of someone dressed from head to toe in red spandex. He turns back, staring. The figure shoots something out of his hands and attaches the criminal to the wall. He takes the purse back, puts the knife in a childlike backpack he has around his back, and puts the stolen item back into the lady’s hand who leans forward and hugs the man-in-red. She looks… happy. Hopeful.

Naïve, Tony thinks. He shakes his head, forgetting what he just saw. He walks away and his legs take him to the wine cellar without a thought. It’s as if someone has tapped into his head, programming his steps as if he was on a simulation game. He reaches for the most expensive bottle in the room, popping it open with the nearest corkscrew. He drinks from the bottle, sliding down the side of the wall with his free hand covering his face.

He wishes he was a part of the snapped. It’s everything he dreams of. As soon as his eyes shut, he can see himself with the team… all of them in the same place. Wherever they are… the afterlife, or a waiting place, he’ll sit beside them and laugh and he’ll remember what it sounds like. But no… he’s one of the unlucky ones. He must wake up every day into the blitz, into a nightmare. He feels as if he’s dead, but his body won’t agree. Like it’s still trying to fight… as if they’ll magically fix what the titan’s done.

The bottle is gone in ten minutes. And as he lets it roll, it joins the pile already on the floor. And when he hears it smash, he doesn’t react. He doesn’t try and clean it up. He leaves it. Because he doesn’t have anything in him to care anymore. Nothing matters, and if the house is filled to the brim with glasses… it’s not like anyone can tell him off for it. They’re all dead, and life can’t just bounce back from that.

And if there’s people outside pretending they can save this doomed universe, then… they’re stupid. Rolling his eyes at the thought of it, he grabs another bottle for bed and forces himself upstairs. He throws himself under the covers, tipping more of the fluid into his mouth. Maybe it’ll make him pass out so he can sleep without all the nightmares. But he knows it’s just all wishful thinking.

Nightmares are just part of the routine now. There’s no use in wishing them away. Because even if he has to watch everyone that he loves die every single night, all of them screaming for help, at least he can see them again… as if they’re right here. He could almost reach out and touch them again.

But he wakes up. Every night. Just as he’s about to take Steve, or Rhodey, or Pepper into a hug… they fade. They turn to dust again, and Tony tries to stop it. He tries to keep them in his hands. But the nightmare ends, and he wakes up with a huff, his chest heaving as he attempts to focus his vision on the real world- the lights above him shining just a little bit too bright for his liking.

Staring up at the ceiling, Tony aches with the feeling of loss. Oh, if only they took him too. Then- and only then- he could be happy. But… much like the laughter he aches to hear, he can’t remember what that feels like.

Peter

“Hey, Mr Criminal! Have you guys been multiplying in factories or something? Why are there so many of you?” Peter shouts, suit on, as he swings past yet another bank robbery. Money’s becoming useless these days. Maybe they’re hoping the world will magically go back to normal and they’ll be millionaires. Psh, wishful thinking. “Cool! Ignore me! I didn’t want to know anyway!” he laughs, hitting one of them in the face with his web. He walks over to them, staring into his eyes. “Sorry, I lied. I so do want to know if there’s an evil villain manufacturing you guys.”

“Get with the times, Spidey!” One of the other guys in a ski mask cries. “Look, man- we were all fans of you- but we’re living in a time where half of the universe can just… disappear. People need to survive- so just leave us to it.”

Peter’s taken off track for a second, just enough for the person who he’s holding down to break free. He smacks him across the head, forcing Peter down to the pavement. He’s knocked out for a second. And when he wakes up, there’s a bag of money and a note beside him. It says ‘we’re sorry, we need it to feed our sick kids. Here’s some for you. I bet you need it too’. It’s not signed by anyone- but Peter can see a tear mark on the bottom of it. He sighs. He feels bad, of course, but stealing is bad- and- well, he can’t justify going after them. If their kids really did need this, he’d be a monster to say no.

He doesn’t take the money, returning it to the bank. They smile at him for his honesty- but break down when they realise how much they’ve lost. Peter has to awkwardly walk out, too much on his mind to calm someone down right now.

Peter crawls up to the roof of the building he’s stood by, ripping the mask off, and letting it flow in the wind. He tries not to listen to the screams. Thousands of people displaced, turning to crime- it’s tough when you’re the person that tries to stop it. He feels like he’s working over-time, trying to fix an already broken world. But he’s going to try until he can’t move anymore… because who else is going to do it? All the Avengers are dead, as are the X-MEN, the fantastic four- or every superhero group he could think of. He’s the only one left, and he’s going to be the one that gets them all back! Somehow! Spider-man will go down in history, and Peter will get his loved ones back in the process.

Swinging over to Ned’s house, he sighs at the smashed in windows and graffiti that lines the walls. Ned loved this house. They’d decorate it with hundreds of lights at every holiday, making the street feel comfortable and loving. He’d open the door, letting Peter in- and they’d run up to his room and laugh. Peter remembers it all so vividly. He tried his hardest to capture every moment they had, knowing that at any moment… it could all go. It happened with his parents, with Uncle Ben, and now with everyone else. But it’s okay! It’s fine! All of it’s just great. He’ll win, he’ll get them back and then- and only then- he’ll rest. For now, if he can’t save those that he loved… he’ll focus on the lost people who walks the streets with weights tying them down. Because maybe he can be the one to make them weightless.

Peter loves apocalypse movies. He’d sit there and watch every second with Uncle Ben sat behind him, May complaining that he might be a little too young for all the gore (he probably was). Alongside Ned, he came up with so many plans detailing how he’d survive zombies, the end of the world, and anything else that came alongside the average ‘apocalypse’. But reality wasn’t as exciting as he once thought, and Ned wasn’t even here for their survival plan to work.

The snap came out of the blue for him. There he was, swinging down the streets of New York. He was tying up someone who decided a drunken fight was how they’d like to spend their evening when they just… disappeared. The person turned to dust in his hands, alongside everyone else (but one) on the street. He looked at the other surviving person, both having no clue what the hell was going on.

But as he saw more and more people turn to dust along his path home, he ran as fast as he could to the apartment. Slamming the door open, May should’ve been there. He checked every room. He even tried next door. But she was gone- and Peter- he was alone. And once he sat down, he saw it. A pile of dust by his bedroom door. May died, seconds away from checking in on the fake doll Peter used to pretend he wasn’t out as Spider-man. Her last moment was about him… and Peter can’t get over how selfish that makes him feel. He took everything from her. Her youth, Ben, and now she’s dead and he knows that someone he’s got something to do with it.

And then he finds out that MJ and Ned are gone. His teachers are gone. There’s no schools because everyone’s dead. And as Peter goes home, squatters have invaded his home. They let him take some of his personal belongings, but then kick him out onto the streets. It’s cold- and the only thing he has to keep him warm is the Spider-man suit… It’s a surprise he doesn’t freeze to death.

He sleeps on rooftops to keep himself safe. If he was to try an alleyway, he was scared that someone might attack him in the night. People are so desperate for food, or money, that they’ll do anything to get it- and if they have to beat up a small, homeless, child… they’d do it. Nobody cares anymore, but Peter feels a duty in his heart to care enough for everyone.

The next morning he’s greeted by rain. He shivers but pulls on the mask. He swings down, sighing when he sees the aftermath of last night. Crime has always elevated at night… but this is something else. He helps a young man up from the floor, the smell of alcohol on his breath making Peter wince. He takes him home, and then moves on to help the next person in need. He does that for hours.

Stepping into the graveyard where Ben’s buried, he kneels beside him and lays one broken flower he found on the way over on the dirt. “Hi, Uncle Ben,” Peter whispers. “God, this is crazy… isn’t it? I wish you were here. Me and you would be an unstoppable team. Nobody would have a chance to commit crime! I think. Maybe I’ve just romanticised the apocalypse because of our movie nights, and I might be way in over my head… but I think… no, I know I can make a difference. And I will. For you, and May, and my parents, and Ned… and MJ. Everyone.”

He sighs. Staying optimistic, it’s all he can do sometimes. If he’s not, well then- what’s the point of even waking up in the morning? If he’s more Spider-man these days than Peter Parker, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Because being Spider-man is what helps everyone else.

Throwing on his mask, Peter patrols throughout the afternoon to the evening. He doesn’t have time to eat, or the money, and he finds himself with little to no energy.

And when he returns a young boy to his grandmother, he feels studied by her eyes as she hugs him tight. She puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I can tell you feel alone, sweetheart, and that you’re only young.” Peter freezes. Has he been reckless with his identity? Did she see his face? “Don’t panic, darling- I can only tell because of how resistant you are. It’s good. We need people like you. We’d all by dead if it wasn’t for your smile, or your jokes- or your love. Thank you for saving my Grandson. You continue that hope, please. If you lose it, then… it really would be the end of us all.”

She gives him some home cooked food in Tupperware she has in her bag, something she was going to take to her daughter’s ‘grave’ they set up after the snap. Peter sits with them and eats it with her family as they all tell stories of how amazing she was. He sees happiness in this family’s eyes. It reminds him that good people are still out there, and it warms the hope he was slipping from.

“Spider-man?” the young boy asks, tugging gently on his wrist. “Did you lose anyone in the blip?” (the ‘blip’, huh? He hasn’t heard anyone call it that yet, but it- it sounds right).

“Ollie,” The older lady says sternly. “We don’t ask people that, remember?”

“No, it’s okay,” Peter says softly. He picks the kid up, hoping that was okay. Putting him down beside him, Peter smiles as much as he can in the small gap from where he’s pulled the mask up to eat. “I did. A lot of people, actually. I miss them a lot. But I’ve kept them in my heart. Because sometimes that’s all we can do.”

“I lost my mama,” the young boy says.

“Oh, I’m really sorry. I’m sure she was the best person ever, hm?” he asks, smiling sadly when he nods with tears in his eyes. “I bet she’s so proud of how well you’re doing. You keep that hope in you, buddy. It won’t be this bad forever. People like me and you are going to make sure of it.”

“Yeah!” Ollie agrees, “Thank you, Spider-man. Nana says you can stay with us if you want.”

As much as Peter would like to take them up on the offer, he can’t. He just can’t live with a family as close and theirs. All it would remind him off is how much they’ve lost. So, he declines. He takes one last bite and says goodbye and thank you for the company. Swinging away, he finds himself too exhausted to stop the robbery going on beneath his sleeping spot.

As soon as the mask leaves his face, a wave of sadness approaches him… and he feels as if he can’t get out of the way in time. Embracing it, he sits up and watches the sunset. It’s the only thing that feels normal with his life right now. And it’s beautiful. A beacon- happiness, laughter, smiles. All the things the sun is synonymous with. But when it goes- and leaves the sky dark and dreary- all the connotations of distress, depression, anger- they all come tumbling around the world like a hivemind. And Peter- closest to the sky- feels it.

Clenching his mask in his left hand, he resists the urge to just let go and admit that it’s not as hopeful as he once thought. But as he feels a rain drop on his head, and a cold shiver, he realises he’s out in the open, alone- and if nothing happens soon… he’ll probably die here. And that- that’s scary. He really doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to miss it when all the birds come back, singing their songs and waking everyone up in the morning. He doesn’t want to miss Ned’s smile as he runs towards him at school, yelling about the latest show he just watched as he’s too impatient to wait until they’re close. He doesn’t want to miss May’s questionable cooking as they sit around the TV on Ben’s death anniversary, celebrating the life he lived. There’s so much he hasn’t done… and if he dies, that’s it. He wouldn’t come back- even if he knows everyone else will.

Soon after the rain picks up, Peter finds himself on the roof. Curled into a little ball as he sobs, he feels like an embarrassment. He cries so much he feels as if he’s adding to the downpour below. And when he’s finished, it aches. It hurts. He’s cried since it happened, of course, but he’s also gotten himself up afterwards… told himself he’ll be okay. Just keep pushing. One more day, Peter, and you’ll find a way to get them back. But that reason never comes. Nobody’s ever there. And he just rinses and repeats. A pattern of loss, of death. If only he could find someone who has a brain like this, who might know how to undo it all.

But, really, Peter thinks… he should just focus on finding food and shelter. And as he looks around the horizon, he spots the Avengers compound. Thick walls surround the site, walls nobody can get over. Nobody except a super soldier who can scale walls. And if all the Avengers are dead, the whole building would be empty. A perfect place for a base camp.

And with tears still falling, Peter throws his mask on and starts swinging. Maybe he can hold on just a little bit longer after all.