Peter woke up screaming.
Screaming, and surrounded by whiteness.
Not blackness. Not grayness.
Whiteness.
After a few unsteady breaths, Peter had the courage to look around.
No doors, no walls.
He was in an endless white space.
Peter stood up on shaky legs, hugging himself, focusing on his clean Spider-Man suit.
What the hell was this?
Where was he?
————
Peter chose a direction at random and started walking.
————
He was dead.
He was supposed to be dead.
He disintegrated on Titan, clutching Tony and crying like a baby and begging for his life and refusing to believe that this was happening.
He was seventeen years old, and he was dead.
There was so much he had wanted to do. He wanted to build LEGO Death Star after LEGO Death Star with Ned. He wanted to play video games and have Star Wars marathons and eat dumplings with Aunt May and work with Tony in his lab and be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man that Queens so desperately deserved.
Just thinking of it all, thinking of Tony — who he promised he would never leave — made his heart drop to his stomach and materialize invisible chains that dragged behind his every footfall.
Maybe he shouldn’t think about Tony right now. He closed that door in his mind, locking it until he had the courage to revisit it.
He wanted to see Aunt May and Ned again. He wanted to thank Aunt May for always being there for him, for raising him to be kind and good and compassionate, despite the tragedy that followed him like a shadow. He wanted to thank Ned for being his best friend, for sticking by him through thick and thin, even when he revealed his superhero identity.
He wanted to see MJ again.
He wanted to tell MJ that he adored her, adored her messy curly hair, adored her makeup-free face, adored her playful scowls and disapproving looks and one-two punch quips, adored her blatant refusal to conform to the status quo, adored how she always rendered him speechless and breathless, adored her passionate speeches and presentations, adored her leadership with the decathlon team and her drive to win every competition, adored how she hid her face in books yet knew everything about everyone, adored how she never took bullshit from anyone, adored her quiet beauty and intelligence and dignity.
Perhaps Peter more than just adored MJ.
But that didn’t matter now.
He was trapped in a never-ending chasm of pure white.
He must have walked a few miles by now.
Where does it end?
————
Peter didn’t know how much time had passed, but he saw someone.
Someone crisscrossed on the ground, staring at nothing.
He put on his mask by instinct, warily approaching the figure.
————
Gamora.
Her name was Gamora.
Where had Peter heard that name?
As much as it pained him, Peter delved into his last memories of his life, when he and Tony had Thanos pinned down.
Peter Quill. Star-Lord.
He had said that name. Gamora.
She was Thanos’s daughter. She was dead too.
Peter recalled his fellow Peter’s reaction when he discovered Gamora was dead. He had become so angry that he smacked Thanos and let their carefully constructed plan fall apart like a Nature Valley granola bar.
That action alone proved that Gamora was not her adopted father’s daughter.
And that Quill saw something in her to love.
————
As Peter and Gamora walked together, he told the green-skinned woman about Quill.
There was the possibility that he could be somewhere in this afterlife too, as well as the other superheroes that disintegrated when Thanos snapped his fingers. This gave them both a common goal, and a new drive to keep searching for as long as it took.
They had all the time in the world.
————
Peter didn’t know if it had been hours or days, but they finally found Quill.
It was as if Gamora knew where he would be.
Peter watched awkwardly as Gamora and Quill embraced, holding each other tightly for a moment.
Peter wondered if MJ was okay.
————
“Hey kid,” Quill greeted.
Peter inclined his head in a hello. In the time he had spent with Gamora, he did not speak much, answering and asking questions with as few words as possible.
He still felt numb to it all. Gamora did too. At least Gamora had Quill now.
“You look younger than I remember,” Quill said. “How old are you, Peter?”
“Seventeen.”
Their faces fell. Peter knew there was a story there. Perhaps they both could relate.
“I’m sorry,” Gamora said.
Peter shrugged, focusing on the fabric of his Iron Spider suit, running his fingers over the cold metal. “It’s not your fault. Only his.”
Gamora and Quill nodded in agreement.
————
They found Drax and Mantis next, followed closely by a dejected teenage Groot.
With the Guardians minus Rocket together again, Peter felt a little left out.
He stuck close to Groot, who looked as sad as he felt, and tried to keep the sentient tree’s hopes up.
————
Peter decided that he liked the Guardians of the Galaxy. Their witty banter was amusing and quieted Peter’s mind, distracting him from dark thoughts.
Their world may be white, but their minds were black.
That didn’t stop them all from faking smiles, though.
————
They found Doctor Strange a few days later.
At least it felt like a few days. It was hard to tell, wherever they were.
Peter wanted to jump up and down in childlike excitement. Doctor Strange would have answers.
————
“There are more of us to find,” Doctor Strange informed them. “When we are all together, I will tell you what I know,” he promised.
“Why not tell us now?” Quill asked.
“I don’t like repeating myself.”
Peter snorted.
————
Doctor Strange reminded Peter of Tony just a little too much.
He remembered their bickering on the spaceship, their brash personalities and similar egos clashing. Doctor Strange was the matador, and Tony was the bull.
He remembered how they both put everything aside and worked well together.
Peter supposed that they all had to work together now, despite differing beliefs and bad blood and unnecessary drama.
He hoped they could do it.
————
They found the Winter Soldier and Falcon a few days later.
Peter hung back behind Gamora, recalling his battle with Captain America’s two best friends in the airport hangar. He was unsure how they would react to seeing him after so long.
After Doctor Strange finished his “I’ll-tell-you-everything-later” spiel, Bucky and Sam were introduced to the Guardians.
That’s when they saw Peter, who had put on his mask for protection.
“You're the Spider-Man,” Sam said in a neutral tone.
“Take off your mask,” Gamora chided.
Peter didn’t want to.
He had the Iron Spider suit assess Bucky and Sam. When Karen reported no signs of malice, Peter took a breath and put on his brave face.
He removed the mask, Bucky and Sam’s eyes widening.
“You’re just a kid,” Sam said sympathetically.
“I sure don’t feel like one,” Peter said quietly, which sounded loud in the silence. It rang true in Peter’s heart and mind and soul.
Soul…
“I’m sorry, kid,” Bucky said genuinely. “They make them younger and younger these days.”
Soldiers. Warriors. That’s what he meant.
Peter nodded in agreement.
————
They found Scarlet Witch lying on the floor crying.
Had she been crying — unable to move due to her dark cloud of grief — this whole time?
“Wanda,” Sam said, him and Bucky kneeling next to her sobbing form. “It’s Sam and Bucky.”
“S-Sam and Bucky?”
“Yes, we’re here now,” Sam said softly. “Open your eyes and sit up, Wanda.”
Wanda blinked rapidly, wiping away her tears and looking at Sam and Bucky. “A-are you real?”
“Yes. We’re here with you now,” Bucky said soothingly.
Peter didn’t know Bucky could be soothing.
Sam and Bucky helped Wanda sit up as she wiped away the last of her tears. She saw the Guardians, Doctor Strange, and Peter observing her, curling in on herself.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Bucky whispered. “They’re all friends. They’re trapped here too. It’s okay.”
Wanda took a breath, eyeing everyone warily.
Doctor Strange had the guts to approach the super-powered woman, sitting a respectable distance away from her. He spoke his spiel kindly and in a quieter tone, putting Wanda at ease.
Afterwards, Doctor Strange said, “I know that you’re in a fragile place, Wanda. We’ve all been there. I know how much it all hurts, but you are quite possibly one of the strongest women in the galaxy. Together, we can set everything right again.”
“But Vis-”
“I know. The entire world feels what you feel. We can’t bring him back, and I am genuinely sorry about that. But you have the chance and the power to make sure no one else has to suffer as you have.”
Wanda looked ready to ask how Doctor Strange knew all of these things, but Peter knew their questions would be answered soon.
Wanda finally said, “I’ll come with you.”
————
Two arguing voices were heard a few hours later.
“-uck are we?”
“-on’t know, sir.”
“We’ve been here-”
“-weeks, even months, sir.”
Peter made himself known first. “Don’t waste your breath fighting.”
He realized belatedly that that sentence was probably one of the longest he had spoken during his stay in this white chasm.
Peter suddenly recognized the man with the eyepatch as Nick Fury and the woman as Maria Hill.
How did the former director of SHIELD and his right hand woman get in here?
“Well, shit on a stick,” Nick said, “it’s Captain America’s refugee buddies, the little spider kid, a pompous wizard, and a bunch of weird aliens.”
“That wasn’t necessary,” Peter said bluntly.
Internally, Peter was freaking out. Did he just disrespect one of the scariest men on Earth? Where did this newfound courage come from?
This place was changing Peter more than he thought. Aunt May wouldn’t like this at all.
Thankfully, Nick seemed more impressed than angry.
Maria — as shocked at Nick’s reaction as Peter was — quickly diffused the situation and got everything back on track.
————
“You’ve got some balls on you, kid,” Sam remarked.
Peter shrugged.
————
The Black Panther came last.
He found them before they found him.
Peter had heard news stories about King T’Challa. He was surprised that the leader of Wakanda was in this place.
“One of you has been looking for me,” T’Challa said in a thick accent, keeping his tone neutral.
“That would be me,” Doctor Strange admitted. “You're the last to arrive.”
T’Challa’s eyes sparkled. “I hope I have not kept you waiting for long.”
“You’re right on time,” Doctor Strange said.
————
The superheroes arranged themselves in a circle on the ground.
Doctor Strange began. “I saw millions upon millions of ways that everything could have ended badly. There was only one way that we could all get out of this. We’re a part of that one option right now.” He paused. “We’re all trapped inside of Thanos’s soul stone.”
Expressions of disbelief and shock rang throughout the space.
Peter found it plausible. Being inside of an Infinity stone wasn’t the strangest thing to have happened. I mean, he was bitten by a radioactive spider and got powers. And he was currently in the company of aliens. He couldn’t really argue the validity of Doctor Strange’s statement.
When everyone quieted down, Doctor Strange continued. “The only way, and I do mean,” he emphasized, “the only possible way we get out of this,” he paused again, “is to wait.”
Everyone’s arguing was white noise to Peter.
None of them were very good at waiting. They were all heroes because they wanted to do something important with their lives, and take action when things went sideways.
But for once, Peter had no objections to waiting. He had been numb for so long that it didn’t matter to him.
————
Aunt May. Ned. MJ. Tony.
Peter repeated the names on his list.
Aunt May, who didn’t deserve this. Ned, who was too good for this world. MJ, who he admired more than anything. Tony, who had become his mentor.
He was making them all suffer by waiting.
But Tony would rescue them. He would rescue them all, for Peter.
The superheroes that were still in the real world would come for them.
Peter believed that. He really did.
He had to.
————
They learned a lot about each other as they sat and walked and waited.
Gamora. Stolen as a child by Thanos while he destroyed her homeworld. Trained to be an assassin. Betrayed her father for the Guardians of the Galaxy. Patched things up with her younger sister, who was still alive, somewhere.
Peter Quill AKA Star-Lord. Abducted by space pirates as a child, after his mother’s slow death from cancer. Trained to steal from the kindest space pirate, who Quill considered a father. Teamed up with the Guardians for a job, but it quickly became more than that. Fought his villain of a real father, his adoptive one sacrificing himself in the process.
Drax. Like Gamora, a survivor of a planet that Thanos destroyed. Watched as his wife and children died. Vowed to destroy Thanos at any cost.
Mantis. Created by Quill’s real father. Forced to do as he asked until the Guardians saved her. Glad that she was finally a part of something meaningful.
Groot. Quill translated. Rocket’s partner in crime for years. Sacrificed himself for the Guardians. Regrown as a sapling, now in his teenage years.
Doctor Stephen Strange. A formerly rich surgeon who lost the use of his hands in a car accident. Trained by an ancient being to be a sorcerer. Guarded the world from evils with Wong, his fellow sorcerer.
Bucky Barnes AKA The Winter Soldier. Captain America’s best friend during World War II. Thought to be killed in action, but was brainwashed to be a Russian assassin. Survived decades under their control. Broke his programming when Captain America found him and started a civil war for his safety. Recovered in Wakanda until Thanos showed up.
Sam Wilson AKA Falcon. A former paratrooper who became acquainted with Captain America. Persuaded to join the cause with the offer of mechanical wings and helping SHIELD. Witnessed the end of SHIELD and stuck by the Captain’s side during the civil war, as well as the fallout.
Wanda Maximoff AKA Scarlet Witch. Cursed with great powers. Watched her parents die, blaming one of Tony’s unsanctioned bombs for it. Hunted for her powers along with her twin brother. Sensed her brother die in Sokovia, then killed Ultron as revenge. Stuck with Captain America during the civil war, despite falling in love with Vision. Watched Thanos kill Vision after failing to destroy the mind stone.
Nick Fury. Former director of SHIELD. Started the Avengers Initiative to save New York from an alien invasion. Forced into hiding when HYDRA rose up again. Faked his own death and watched SHIELD crumble to dust.
Maria Hill. Nick’s right hand woman. Stuck by his side ever since the failed New York invasion. Worked simultaneously for Tony and Nick.
T’Challa AKA Black Panther. King of Wakanda, the most technologically advanced nation on Earth. Thrown into the fold when his father died during Sokovia Accord negotiations. Thrust into the role of ruler before he was ready. Forced to take down his nefarious cousin who wanted his throne, nearly dying in the process. Opened Wakanda to the world, only to have Thanos come knocking on their door.
That left Peter. It was his turn, now.
It was time to speak more words than he ever had in the weeks since waking up here.
He wasn’t sure where to start.
Perhaps the beginning.
————
His parents were SHIELD scientists. They had created something. Peter didn’t know what. It was dangerous. It put them in jeopardy.
It put toddler Peter in jeopardy.
His parents left him with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They died in a plane crash.
Peter didn’t think they died in a plane crash.
Peter was raised by his aunt and uncle. Things were fine until high school.
That was when Uncle Ben was shot right in front of him. All for money.
The things people did for money...
Aunt May and Peter held on to each other for dear life. His aunt worked two jobs to keep their Queens apartment. Peter focused on school and maintaining his friendship with Ned.
Then, the Oscorp field trip.
Everyone knew Oscorp was a shady business. Norman Osborn was a dirtier version of Tony Stark, a menacing billionaire with questionable experiments and practices.
And one of those experiments found him.
A radioactive spider escaped Osborn’s lab, biting Peter and giving him powers. A one in a trillion chance. And it happened to Peter Parker.
He learned about his powers, hiding it from everyone. He became Spider-Man, stopping petty crime.
It all came to a head when he met Tony Stark. He followed the man he just met into hell, fighting in an airport hangar until he could barely breathe.
When he returned home, Tony cast him away, leaving Peter to deal with Vulture.
It all spiraled out of control very quickly, and he didn’t catch his breath until he was surrounded by a broken plane and fire that melted his skin and Vulture being handcuffed in front of him.
Aunt May discovered he was Spider-Man, surprisingly letting him off with extra chores and a promise to be safe with his new suit. MJ truly entered his life shortly after that, Peter being drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
She had been there the whole time. He was stupid for not noticing her sooner.
MJ stole his heart when she figured out he was Spider-Man and promised to keep his secret.
Things were going okay before a donut spaceship got Peter back into the fold. He followed Tony to the ends of the Earth and on to Titan, disintegrating before his father figure’s very eyes.
And he wasn’t sure when, or if, he would ever get to tell MJ how he felt.
Peter told his rapt audience all of this, his life story spilling from his lips like a waterfall, unable to stop until he described his painful death.
Everyone was silent, absorbing it all, Peter taking a few unsteady breaths, swallowing a lump in his throat.
“Jesus,” Nick Fury said.
“You don’t look seventeen anymore,” Quill said sadly.
“We all have issues,” Peter said dully.
“We will get you back to your lady love,” Mantis promised. Her antennas glowed. “I feel your love for her.”
Love. Not just adoration.
Peter loved MJ.
Yes. That made sense.
Peter wore a downcast expression, Mantis turning off her antennas and the subject changing.
————
They all came for them.
Tony. Steve. Natasha. Thor. Bruce. Rhodey. Clint. Scott. Rocket. Nebula. Okoye. Shuri. Wong. Even M’Baku.
Peter went into Tony’s arms like a child clinging to their mother. He wasn’t ashamed in the least about it. He deserved to act his age for once.
The whiteness was replaced with the browns and greens of the Wakandan forest.
Peter was home.
————
The Avengers and Guardians split apart again, but relationships were forged and fixed.
Things would be different, this time.
————
Aunt May held Peter for so long he couldn’t breathe.
————
Ned and Peter played video games all night, Aunt May not voicing a single complaint.
————
Peter should have known that Michelle Jones would punch him.
She punched him hard in the arm, whacking him in the chest and screaming at him, her hair a tornado and her eyes a fire and her anger a thunderstorm.
Peter took it. Every punch, every smack, every word hurled at him.
She was beautiful. So, so beautiful in her imperfection.
Her assault stopped, tears springing in her flaming brown eyes as she caught her breath.
He had gotten MJ to cry. She really, really cared about him.
And he really, really loved her.
MJ was in his arms suddenly, her messy hair falling out of its bun, her face pressed against his shoulder as she cried, her arms wrapped around his middle.
Peter hugged her back tentatively, in disbelief that this was actually happening. Her curly hair tickled his cheek, her body flushed against his, listening to her sniffle.
They hadn’t been this close before. It took Peter dying just for MJ to hug him.
“You’re so stupid,” MJ muttered into his shoulder, their bodies rocking a little. “You’re the stupidest boy in the world for doing this to me. I hate you so much. I’m supposed to be a strong, independent woman, but here I am, crying in a stupid boy’s arms like a one-dimensional love interest.”
Love interest?
Peter held MJ tighter. He said into her hair, “if anyone’s the one-dimensional love interest, it’s me.”
MJ withdrew, studying Peter inquisitively. “You would disrupt the patriarchy for me?”
Peter smiled. “Of course I would.” He added smartly, “even if I am just a stupid boy.”
MJ punched his arm lightly, her mouth quirking upwards. She hugged him again, Peter grinning like an idiot.
In that moment, Peter Parker had everything he needed.