Project Freedom
Not for the first time, silence reigned. This time, though, the silence was laced with tension instead of shock as everyone exchanged nervous glances with others from their own respective timelines.
Peter sighed. He’d become intimately familiar with silence over the last couple of months on the run from world governments. For so long, his only companion had been the noiseless whispers of the wind; he’d even call silence a friend by now, if not for the fact that the quiet made him shiver.
More than anything, he missed his old life. He missed his friends, his classmates—and yes, that's includingFlash—and even his teachers. Most of all, he missed his aunt.
I’m tired of silence, he thought, fingers anxiously flexing and curling on his lap.
Perhaps Mr. Stark was able to read his mind even now before they’d officially met, or perhaps he’d simply grown impatient himself, because Tony soon sat up straight and cleared his throat. “I’m guessing that’s a unanimous ‘no’ from all timelines, yes?”
Everyone nodded mutely.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, clearly we’re getting nowhere,” he snorted. “Unless you’re all—”
“There’s a notepad. Whoever took us— it has to belong to them,” Wanda murmured, lifting one finger to point at a nondescript yellow notepad lying innocuously atop the TV stand. “Maybe we’ll find a clue inside it.”
Sam smiled encouragingly. “Good eye, Wanda,” he praised. He waited for no more than half a beat, head cocked sideways in a silent question: Should I go get the notepad or are you going to use your telekinesis?
Wanda, noticing his unspoken expectation, hesitated briefly before shaking her head, head bowed and eyes haunted. Even without explaining, it was clear to Sam that her thoughts were on her audience—she’d never liked to divulge much about her feelings, but Sam knew it hurt her every time someone reacted poorly to her magic.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam murmured to her under his breath, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly for a split-second. She offered him a shaky, grateful smile, and he smiled back, hopping up to his feet.
As soon as he had his fingers wrapped around the notepad, he cast Tony an inquiring look. “Would you like to do the honors, Iron Man?”
Tony hid a smug grin at the fact that Sam had turned to him. And yet, even as he nodded in agreement, easily catching the notepad with one hand upon Sam’s toss, he couldn’t help but think that Sam’s question had nothing to do with respect. There had been no hint of reverence in Sam’s voice, nor on Sam’s face; something told him that here, surrounded by all of these time-travelers, his status as both Tony Stark and Iron Man didn’t amount to much.
Still, he said nothing as he flipped open the notepad, skimming quickly through the pages. He was only vaguely aware that Sam had jogged back towards Wanda and Bucky when he finally spotted a dash of color on one of the pages.
He paused. “You were right,” he addressed Wanda’s suspicions, though his gaze remained fixated on the notepad. A short string of words met his stare, printed neatly in a computerized font instead of scribbled in someone's messy handwriting. “There’s something here.”
“What does it say?” Happy pressed.
Tony hummed and read aloud, adopting a slightly more serious tone, “To all those I have gathered—”
“Kidnapped,” Clint muttered with a snort.
“—here today,” Tony continued, eyes briefly leaving the page to shoot Clint a quick glare for the interruption, “please remain calm. I do not intend to harm you in any way. That’s the only thing it says.”
“That’s it? Then why are we even here?” Rhodey asked, exasperated.
Tony frowned. “Maybe there’s something on the back,” he theorized, flipping the sheet over. His eyebrows raised in surprise. “P.S.,” he read aloud, “say EDITH.”
Peter stiffened at that, head snapping up to stare wide-eyed at Tony. “EDITH...?” he murmured to himself, jaw agape. “There’s no way, right?”
Happy, being one of the few people in the room who knew about EDITH, exchanged a worried glance with Peter. “What’s going on, Peter?” he asked, lowering his voice so only Peter could hear him. “What does EDITH have to do with this? Did someone manage to get their hands on Tony’s tech again?”
“No way,” Peter shook his head adamantly, “I made sure to keep EDITH on me at all times after the mess with Beck.” He paused, raising his hands to press against his hoodie and feel for the telltale shape of his glasses hanging from his inside shirt. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he came into contact with the glasses. “I still have the EDITH glasses,” he confirmed to Happy, who relaxed minutely but still looked concerned.
Before they could discuss the problem any longer, the large television screen reacted to Tony’s words. Static burst to life on the screen, before the pixels finally solidified into an image of a holographic woman who looked eerily similar to May Parker.
Peter squinted, instantly taken aback. “Is that... my aunt?” he spluttered in disbelief. “What the hell?”
“That’s definitely her,” Happy agreed beside him, causing Peter to side-eye him. Happy flushed when he noticed Peter’s narrow-eyed stare. “Oh, shut it. Not a word out of you, kid.”
“Do you two know that woman?” Fury demanded, catching snippets of their conversation. “Is she the mastermind behind this kidnapping?”
“No way,” Peter denied immediately, without hesitation. “That’s my Aunt May. I have no idea what she has to do with any of this, but she wouldn’t kidnap us. She’s the best!”
Happy coughed. “I can confirm that Ms. Parker is indeed a good person,” he agreed reluctantly, refusing to look Peter in the eye as they were both well aware of how exactly Happy knew that.
“Then why is she on that screen?” Fury frowned, glaring at them distrustfully.
Rhodey sighed. “Let’s just watch and see,” he offered. “I might not know Ms. Parker personally, but I trust Peter and Happy’s judgement.”
Fury grumbled under his breath, but reluctantly kept the rest of his suspicions silent.
“Hello, everyone,” the visage of May on the screen greeted, face calm and serene. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I brought you here.”
“No shit,” Sam huffed.
“Not to mention how,” Natasha added with a scowl. She resented the thought that someone—anyone—had been able to sneak up on her unguarded. (The mere idea left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, and if there was one thing Natasha Romanoff was not, it was vulnerable.)
Peter was frowning. “That’s definitely not my aunt’s voice,” he announced. “That was...” he hesitated, glanced at Happy, and finally revealed with a reluctant swallow, “that was EDITH’s voice.”
“The name on the note? Who even is Edith?” Tony followed up. “Her voice almost sounded like it was synthesized by a computer.”
“That’s because EDITH is an AI,” Peter replied, his voice strained. He found himself avoiding looking Tony in the eye, the thought of his death and the more recent memory of Beck’s illusions making him distant. “Actually, Mr. Stark, you’re the one who created EDITH.”
“I did?” Tony blinked. “Why would I need EDITH when I have JARVIS?”
Peter tensed. Tony had only ever mentioned JARVIS—albeit vaguely—to him once, but Peter would never forget the pain and grief that had emerged in his mentor’s eyes when he’d spoken of his late butler and his lost AI.
“You gave EDITH to Peter,” Happy answered succinctly while also expertly side-stepping the question about JARVIS, saving Peter from having to speak on difficult topic.
Peter just nodded quietly, not trusting himself to be able to keep the rest of it a secret if he opened his mouth.
“First, let me introduce myself. I am an augmented reality security, defense and artificial tactical intelligence system created by Tony Stark,” the hologram explained. “I am currently taking on the form of May Parker, aunt of Spider-Man. I chose Ms. Parker because my observations have informed me that she is one of the most important people, if not the most important person, in Peter Parker’s life. As Mr. Parker is now in charge of my systems, it is crucial that I understand him as an individual.”
“That’s all well and good,” Tony cut in, “but why are we all here? Why us?”
“I brought you all here as part of Project Freedom, which began as an effort to vindicate Mr. Parker in the eyes of the public. The primary aim of Project Freedom is to portray Mr. Parker in an innocent, positive light,” May—EDITH—replied. “To that end, I’ve spent the last two months scanning every satellite and CCTV camera available to my systems, and accumulating all relevant footage to form a documentary covering the events that occurred during Mr. Parker’s recent excursion to Europe.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. “EDITH, you… you did all that?” he breathed in awe. “Why? I never asked you to compile any footage for me.”
“Tony Stark created me to be the most sentient among all of his AI systems,” EDITH explained. “Even without your express command, I was able to initiate Project Freedom on my own, basing my decisions off of every protocol surrounding your protection that exists in my code.”
“Yeah, that still doesn’t really tell me anything about why you’re showing your ‘documentary’ to us, of all people—”
“If you’d be patient and stop interrupting me every few seconds, Mr. Stark, I’d tell you,” EDITH cut him off, an undeniable sassiness in her voice that made them all pause.
“Damn,” Rhodey whistled, grinning. “That’s definitely your AI,” he snickered, reaching over Pepper to nudge Tony—who was gaping gracelessly—pointedly.
“In any case, I have to admit, I initially had no intentions of choosing you all as my audience. I didn’t realize that possibility was open to me. However, after I finished connecting all of the necessary footage together, I registered that I had access to the blueprints for the time travel device designed by Tony Stark.”
“Are you saying I created time travel?” Tony demanded. He’d always had faith in his own intelligence, but Clint had been right—time travel was farfetched, even for him. “Or that… I will, at least?”
“That’s crazy,” Clint whispered, “right?”
“Time travel is a topic many scientists have attempted to meddle with in the past,” Bruce said, “but none have succeeded. In many ways, time travel should be impossible as it directly interferes with several laws of physics. However, considering we are all here, I think we can safely say that EDITH is telling the truth. Somehow, some way, Tony manages to invent time travel in the future.”
He paused. “Wow. I never thought I’d say those words,” Bruce admitted.
“I never thought I’d hear those words,” Shuri added. She looked at Tony with a critical eye. She’d always thought lowly of American science, believing it to be, in a word, overrated, but clearly Tony Stark was an exception. According to EDITH, not only had Stark invented a fully-functioning time machine, but he had also created an AI intelligent and self-aware enough to make her own decisions.
A smile slowly spread across her face. “Impressive,” she murmured under her breath, garnering a knowing glance from T’Challa.
“Yes. In the timeline I, Mr. Parker, Mr. Hogan, Mr. Leeds and Ms. Jones originate from, you are the one responsible for inventing time travel, Mr. Stark,” EDITH answered Tony. “As for the why: during my time with Mr. Parker, he spoke with me often regarding his desire to change his past by causing a divergence in the War of 2023.”
Peter choked. EDITH was right; he had, on several occasions, confided in EDITH about his many regrets surrounding Thanos, the most prominent of which was the death of his mentor. He distinctly remembered sitting on the roof of a warehouse one day during his time as a fugitive, taking comfort in EDITH’s steady voice humming in his ear as he whispered, “I wish I could have saved him,” over and over again.
“As my priorities include Mr. Parker’s safety and happiness, I made the executive decision to enlist the help of my fellow AI, FRIDAY, in tweaking the time travel device to bring you all to this location once activated. FRIDAY and I specifically selected all of you from your respective timelines based on several criteria—the main two of which are that you have all already had the chance to become acquainted with at least one other Avenger, and that you all play major roles in the actions of the Avengers going forwards. Before releasing the footage to the public in my timeline, I will play the same footage for your perusal in the hopes that you may work together to alter the events of the War and prevent the aftermath from occurring.”
“The War of 2023?” Natasha asked sharply. “What does she mean by that? What war will we face?”
Peter lowered his gaze, knowing better than to answer her honestly. He didn’t need to consult Dr. Strange to know how very reckless and stupid that would be. In fact, if Dr. Strange were here now, he would probably spend upwards of twenty minutes lecturing Peter on the dangers of interfering with the past.
Peter could practically hear his admonishment now: “What were you thinking, Peter!? If you screw up here, you could potentially erase yourself altogether. You could undo the reversal of the Blip. You and trillions of others would be dead again –– and this time, for much longer than five years.”
But wait. That’s not true, Peter realized. Didn’t Bruce once explain that our actions can cause a whole set of new timelines to branch off of the original timeline? I wouldn’t be destroying my timeline, just creating alternate timelines.
And maybe… Maybe one of those alternate timelines won’t have to deal with Mr. Stark's death. Maybe one of those timelines would get the happy ending Peter had been robbed of. Maybe some version of Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Morgan somewhere out there would get to have Tony for much longer than his own timeline had.
Isn’t that worth it? Isn’t that worth everything?
Yes, Peter decided firmly. Yes. Saving Tony Stark… it would be worth the world.
“It’s hard to explain if you didn’t experience it for yourself,” he started, deciding to take EDITH’s offering and run with it. This was a gift, he realized, and he would have to be a fool to not take advantage of it. “But I’ll tell you as much as I can.”
“Peter,” Happy whispered. “Are you sure—?”
“Yes,” Peter answered, capturing Happy’s wide-eyed gaze with his own and nodding firmly. “Happy, you know that the Avengers”—that Mr. Stark—“risked everything to bring the others and I back. And everyone says we won, but no one cares to focus on what we lost. Because we did lose, Happy. We lost too much. And if I can change that in even one timeline, then I think that’s worth it.”
Happy nodded. “Okay, then,” he agreed, because he understood what it was like to miss Tony Stark and feel like nothing would ever get better. “Let’s do it.”
Peter smiled gratefully at him, and then addressed Natasha and the rest of the room, “EDITH mentioned the War of 2023, but that was just the culmination of several different battles. In reality, the war was triggered much earlier than that, when I died in 2018. Because the thing is, I wasn’t the only one who died.”
He spared his friends a look, taking comfort in their encouraging nods as he inhaled deeply and continued, “2018 saw a massacre on a scale of unimaginable levels. When I died, so did trillions of others—humans and aliens alike. Everywhere across the known and unknown universe, half of all life forms on every planet turned to dust. No place in the galaxy was left untouched by death.”
Before Peter’s eyes, everyone assembled by EDITH fell silent, numb with shock and disbelief. Even the mere idea of such a slaughter was— it was inconceivable. It was too horrifying to comprehend.
Pepper and Rhodey were the only ones aside Peter’s own companions who knew. They averted their eyes as the news sank into the minds of all those previously oblivious.
Tony was the first to react, shooting to his feet and pacing back and forth as he shook his head desperately. “No,” he barked, as if he wished he could alter reality with a single word. “No. There’s no way. That’s... that’s just notpossible.”
“Six years ago, I would have said the same thing,” Peter agreed. “But it is possible. 50% of the universe was decimated within the span of a few seconds, if not less.” There was no easy way to put it. No one else seemed to remember, but Peter couldn’t forget the feeling of breaking apart into pieces under the horrified stare of his mentor.
Peter remembered everything. He remembered the fear, the unshakable panic, the pain. It clung to him even now, months after he’d been brought back to the land of the living.
“Seconds?” Shuri whispered in horror, none of the lively, animated young girl she typically was evident in her demeanor now. “We all just... vanished? Without a trace?”
“Yeah.” It was Rhodey who answered now, his voice thick with anguish. “Fifty percent died, and fifty percent remained.”
Tony stumbled back to his seat, collapsing into the sofa with a shaky exhale. He turned to gaze at Pepper and Rhodey, haunted by his newfound understanding of the weight that burdened them every second.
Shuri whimpered, tears clinging to her eyelashes. Beside her, her brother shuffled closer and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, keeping her close.
From his seat on his own sofa, Clint watched them with a heavy stare. He couldn’t help but think of his own family, safe and sound in his country home. But what if, six years later, they aren’t safe anymore? What if they would be a part of the fifty percent who died?
Fifty percent. God. The fate of his family rested on a coin’s toss.
Clint shuddered just to think about it. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost his family.
“Clint,” Natasha whispered, beseeching. “Clint.”
Clint turned to look at her. Natasha’s eyes were all at once warm with understanding and hard with determination. “Nat,”—his voice broke—“I...”
“The future isn’t set in stone, Clint,” she reminded him, steely. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? So we can change things. We’ll make sure their future never becomes ours.”
“What if we can’t?” his voice was hushed with uncertainty, with fear. He locked eyes with her and whispered, as if it were a sin: “What if we fail?”
Natasha’s lips curled at the corners to form a smile, but her expression was laced with grim resolve and no joy at all. “We won’t,” she promised, well aware of where his mind had wandered to, “because we can’t.”
Clint thought again of his family, clueless of the dangers that might one day face them, and knew that Natasha was right. They couldn’t afford to lose. He couldn’t.
“It’s only been a few months for us, but the effects of the Decimation are unavoidable. Everywhere I go, I see its impact,” Pepper spoke up, head bowed as if in mourning, blind to the rest of the room. “World governments collapsed, economies were destroyed, entire countries fell into ruin. Panic and hysteria are at an all time high, and there’s been a drastic rise in crime and violence everywhere. The world’s on fire, and we’re helpless to fix it.”
“Or so we thought,” Rhodey corrected, eyes narrowing shrewdly. “But you said you and the others were all brought back to life. How?“
“I’m not sure you want to know,” Peter said quietly.
Rhodey recoiled violently. “Of course we want to know! Why the hell wouldn't we!? W-What are you saying––?”
“There’s a reason EDITH is showing you this,” Peter interrupted, firm but not unkind. There was an undeniable graveness to his expression that silenced Rhodey’s protests. “Sure, we won, but to some—to us—it was at a price too high.”
Happy brought a hand down on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.
“Maybe if you know ahead of time—maybe if you know everything we do—you’ll be able to reverse the Blip without paying that price,” Peter said, almost pleadingly. He looked up at Rhodey, and Rhodey swallowed tightly at the sight of tears in his eyes. “I’ll still tell you how my timeline’s Avengers fixed the Blip—because you do deserve to know what you’re getting yourselves into—but I suggest you wait to ask me again until after you’ve watched what EDITH has to show us.”
“It’s too late for us,” Happy took over, “but maybe it isn’t too late for you guys. There might still be another way to save your world—without the sacrifices of ours.”
The room was quiet for a long moment afterwards. Even EDITH kept the screen blank, intelligent enough to wait to play her collection of footage.
Before today, Tony had never believed in the possibility of a ‘deafening’ silence. He was devoted to science, after all, and he knew that nothing was ever truly silent. But in that moment, as they all stewed over Peter and Happy’s cautionary words, Tony knew what it meant to face a silence so overwhelming it felt genuinely deafening.
He struggled to come to terms with the thought of Peter’s future—a future that sounded so bleak that his stomach rolled with nausea. They’d just fought off Loki earlier that day—though it seemed like an eternity had since passed—and now Peter was telling them that it would all be for nothing, that another threat—a worse threat—would come to destroy them all.
His mind unwittingly flashed back to the fleet of aliens he’d caught a glimpse of in space when he’d shot through the wormhole, and fear flared bright in his chest. He’d thought, for a horrifying moment in that wormhole, that that ship would one day be the end of the Earth. That they would face another army of aliens in the future, and that they wouldn’t be able to defeat them the next time. That they'd lose.
Had he been right?
Was there even any use in trying to stop it? Or was death merely an inevitability?
No, he tried to tell himself. We wouldn’t be here if we had no chance. There has to be hope.
“Who?” Tony whispered, even as a part of him shrieked at him to take it back. Even as a part of him wasn’t ready to know. “Who’s responsible for... the Blip? And – and the War?”
Peter’s eyes darkened. “Thanos,” he whispered, and that single word carried with it all of his broken hopes and dreams, all of his greatest nightmares that ended with Mr. Stark’s name on his lips.
Rhodey sank deeper into the sofa at the sound of Thanos’ name, pain and exhaustion weighing him down. Pepper closed her eyes and gulped down a strangled sob. Happy narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists so tight his palms bled.
But it was Loki whose reaction drew everyone’s attention. He flinched physically as though he’d been struck by Mjölnir itself, his face pale and stricken as he processed Peter’s revelation. “He did it,” Loki whispered, his voice fringed by raw terror. “He got what he wanted in the end. He won.”
Peter swallowed, and for a brief moment as he looked into Loki’s eyes, a vision of his world’s Thor—raw and broken by the death of his brother—flashed across his line of sight.
“Yes,” Peter murmured, unblinking, “he did.”
(“My brother told me the sun would shine on us again,” Thor whispered one night under the judgmental gaze of twinkling stars, the imperial blue of his eyes turned indigo by grief. “And it has, but he’s not here to see it.”)
Peter had never had the chance to meet Loki in person before today. But though he might not have known Loki, he had known a Thor muted by the aftermath of the War, soulful eyes haunted by the ghosts of his family, and that was enough to tell him that Loki mattered. And even if only one person cared about him, Peter knew he would do everything in his power to make sure Loki survived in another world.
Because to Thor, Loki meant the universe. To Thor, Loki was life-changing.
“The – the stones,” Loki croaked, voice quivering, sounding nothing like the all-powerful God of Mischief he was known to be. “How? The soul stone is supposed to be irretrievable – ”
“The soul stone!? Loki, for Odin's sake, please tell me you aren’t talking about the infinity stones. Tell me you aren’t,” Thor interrupted, face abruptly pale. When Loki refused to look at him, Thor inhaled sharply and demanded, “Loki, what do you know? Who is this Thanos, and what does he want with the soul stone?”
“The Mad Titan,” the name left Loki’s lips with the weight of the apocalypse. “He who seeks all of the infinity stones.”
“That’s–– that's not possible,” Thor laughed shakily. “Right? Right?”
Loki returned his gaze to Peter, beseeching. “You said he succeeds,” Loki pointed out, like an accusation. “He must have found all of the stones. Did –– will he?”
Peter’s jaw shifted.
(He’s not here to see it, Thor had said, dreams torn in half, Stormbreaker lying heavy and useless beside him. He’s not here.)
See, the thing was, Peter had chosen to become Spider-Man because he never wanted anyone to have to lose again. He’d become Spider-Man with the echo of his uncle’s parting words—“remember, Petey, with great power comes great responsibility”—chasing at his heels.
Ultimately, he’d failed. He’d failed because he hadn’t been strong enough to take Thanos down the first go-around. He’d failed because he’d held Thanos’ gauntlet in his hands for a second—a second—before Thanos had taken it back. He’d failed because he’d grasped the chance to beat Thanos and he’d let himself be beaten instead.
He’d failed because he’d stood there helpless as Tony Stark laid down his life to rid the world of Thanos.
He’d failed because so many had lost.
And now he had a second chance. He had the opportunity to make it right.
He couldn’t, wouldn’t, fail again. (He refused to.)
“No,” he snarled through gritted teeth, catching Loki’s eyes and conveying every ounce of his determination, every shred of his resolve, through his gaze. “He won’t win again. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
From beyond Loki, Ned’s eyes drilled into him, a constant reminder of his failure. (How could he have let his best friend die, fading away into nothing?) “What are you planning, Peter?” His voice was low and breathy, like he didn’t dare speak too loud for fear of shattering Peter’s will. “What are you going to do?”
“What I should have done the second the Avengers told me what it was they risked to bring us back,” Peter answered, voice bleeding with earnest sincerity. He nodded once at Ned, and then met Loki’s eyes intently. “The soul stone is difficult to retrieve, true, but not impossible. Most just say it is because of the price it demands.”
“'Price'?” Loki asked.
Peter nodded. “A sacrifice,” he said softly, sadly.
Loki stiffened, and didn’t dare ask more, his words stilled by the look on Peter’s face. Peter’s expression was littered by scars, a canvas built on the destruction of another, and Loki wasn’t sure he wanted to know the story behind it.
“I think we should leave any other questions for after we’ve watched all the footage,” Happy spoke up in suggestion, knowing eyes softening with sympathy at the sight of Peter’s regret. “The full story is, after all, a long and sad one. Believe me, the longer you don’t know the true extent of Thanos’ cruelty, the better.”
“You know what they say.” MJ’s smile contained no mirth or joy, and her eyes grew hazy with a faraway memory. “Ignorance is bliss.”
“R-Right,” Pepper agreed hastily, not quite ready to rehash the nightmare that was Thanos. She still remembered every second of fear that had gripped her during the twenty-three days Tony was missing, stuck drifting aimlessly through space. “All of that can wait until later.”
“Yeah, later.” Rhodey nodded, more than a little desperate. “Let’s just— let’s just start the footage for now.”
“EDITH,” Peter called out. “You heard him. Play the footage for us, please.”
“Of course, Boss,” EDITH complied. EDITH might not have been able to see it, but for trained intelligence agents like Natasha and Fury, it was impossible to miss the way Peter froze and curled in on himself when he heard the respectful title EDITH had bestowed upon him. “Activating Protocol Freedom now.”
“O-Okay, great,” Peter stammered, biting back the instinctive snarl of don’t call me Boss. Even now, Peter’s heart still stuttered at the thought of having to replace the greatest mentor he’d ever known. There was no one quite like Anthony Edward Stark, and there never would be. "Thanks, EDITH.”