5amBird

“Yeah kid?” the billionaire looked over at him, studying the teens' worried face.

“We’re gonna win, right? We’re the avengers, we have to.” His voice was shaky, masquerading as strong. Tony squeezed his lips into a thin line. He didn't want to lie to the kid, but the truth of the situation was looking very bleak.

“Of course we are. Purple guy has nothing on us.” He smiled at Peter. Their conversation was broken by a loud gasp as Strange broke out of his trance. “What’s the haps, Strange?”

“The haps…” The wizard mumbled. “You’re not going to like this.”

The air seemed to go down several degrees as the gathered heroes fell deathly silent.

“To win today, someone has to be a distraction.” Strange revealed, tone low and stoic.

“Someone? Can it be anyone?” Peter Quill spoke up.

“No. It has to be him.” His head tipped to Peter Parker, whose eyes widened.

“Me?”

“No. No way.” Tony spoke over him.

“It’s fine! I’m really fast! He won’t be able to even catch me!” The teen rationalized. He was trying to use it to comfort everyone else but you could tell it was for himself.

“Peter, you’re not even supposed to be here you–” Tony started.

“I’m gonna be fine.” The teen gave a shaky smile.

“Everyone, Hide. He’s on his way.” Doctor Strange announced. Tony dragged Peter off to the top of an eroding structure, the two of them hiding inside.

“Mister Stark?” The teen whispered, eyes watery.

“Yeah, Pete.” Tony looked over, brows furrowing as he saw the unshed tears. “Hey…”

“I’m scared.” The teen admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be up here, helping, than down on earth with no clue… but… what if we lose? What if aunt May, Ned… MJ… I want them to be safe.” His voice broke and Tony immediately drew him in for a hug. They could hear snippets of conversation between Strange and the mad Titan.

‘Oh yeah, you're definitely more of a Thanos.’

‘I offered a solution… they called me a madman.’

“Hey, Pete… Please don’t cry, okay? We’re going to win this, yeah? And then… We’ll all have a star wars marathon together.”

“You’d have a Star Wars marathon with me?”

“When we win this, yeah.” Tony squeezed him. “Let’s do this.”

‘I think you’ll find our will… equal… to yours.’

‘Our?’

The fight began, the Avengers and Guardians not giving Thanos a moment to defend himself. As Tony was swept away by a flock of bats Peter swung in, webbing his eyes closed. Drax slid in, slashing at his knees, followed quickly with an attack from Strange. As Thanos was able to get a hit on the wizard, Starlord flipped into the scene and planted an explosive on his back.

With a snarky “boom” Starlord flipped the Titan off and fell backwards through one of Strange’s portals. The Explosive went off and in Thanos’ momentary distraction Strange sent his cape flying to wrap around the gauntlet.

As a portal opened Peter took one last, quick breath and dove through.

“Magic!” He punched Thanos in the face before disappearing through another portal.

“More magic!” He jumped from a different portal, grabbing the Titans head and swinging around and down to kick him in the pelvis before flipping off of him and going backward through a portal.

“Magic with a kick!” The next portal opened up behind Thanos and Peter kicked him square in the nose, landing through another portal.

“Magic with a–!” He was caught by the throat, a large calloused hand squeezing harshly. He was brought crashing to the ground, Pain lancing through his back and into his neck and legs. He couldn’t breathe, mouth opening and closing as he tried to get air into his lungs.

“Insect.” The Titan muttered, disgust lacing his tone. Peter was lifted up, up, legs kicking weakly as his airflow was cut off. His face was hot, brain screaming desperately for air. He punched Thanos’ hand weakly, begging to be let go. The HUD in his suit was getting blurry, edges darkening, Karen lifted his mask as he desperately tried to gasp in any amount of air.. He was going to die here.

His mind flashed to Aunt May. She didn’t know where he was… she might die, and she would die without knowing where he was. Ned… he had watched as Peter jumped out of their bus. He was probably worried out of his mind. Tony, he was so concerned when Peter had shown up, but he had given him the Iron Spider, even made him an Avenger! He was an Avenger, finally! And MJ, he had really wanted to ask her–

CRACK

A blade sliced through Thanos neck, his head sliding from it and landing on the ground with a dull Thud. Tony Stark watched, His nano tech dripping with The mad Titan’s blood. But he didn’t deserve Iron man’s attention. Peter.

Tony dropped to his knees next to the young spider themed hero, whose neck was bent in a way that would haunt Tony’s dreams for the rest of his life. His hands, shaking violently, lifted to gently straighten his neck, wincing at the sounds of broken bones shifting. He had to resist the urge to vomit.

“God…” He breathed out. “Pete.” He brushed his hair back, fingers getting caught in the brown locks. “Kid…” Soft footfalls alerted him to Strange’s presence behind him and he slowly rose from the ground.

“Did you know?” He asked the wizard, voice dangerously low. “Did you know he was going to die!” His voice raised until he was shouting, shoving the wizard back.

“It was the only way.” Strange defended, hands raised in surrender.

“That can’t be true.” Tony shouted.

“The other way, Thanos won this battle and succeeded in his plan.” Stephen paused, giving Tony space to interject. When he didn't, Stephen continued. “After five years you and the original avenger found a way to bring the disappeared back, but it ends in your death. This way… so many more people survive. The sacrifice of one, for many. He would've wanted this.” he tilted his head and looked down at the ever-growing cold body of the spider themed hero.

“No. You don’t deserve to say that. He was a kid! He was Sixteen!” Tony shoved him back again, tears burning his eyes. “He has an aunt, did you know that? I’m going to have to bring his body home to her!”

“Tony…” Strange tried. Tony shook his head, holding up a hand.

“This is where you shut up before I kill you too.” He snapped. To his relief the wizard did, opting to go check on the other heroes who had fought. Tony knelt down again, gathering Peter in his arms, cradling his head so it didn't move more than it had to. He placed a kiss on the teen’s head, eyes slipping closed.

“I’ve got you… We won pete… we get to have that Star wars marathon now… and how about we dress up for halloween too? I’ll be Vader and you can be Luke?” He paused, imagining Peter replying with an excited and doubtful reply.

‘Wait, really? Mister Stark, that would be so cool!’

A screech of tires, and then the feeling of weightless floating. Bob didn’t scream, didn’t let out a sound, just closed his eyes and waited for… something. He’d never been in a crash before and he had no idea what to expect, beyond what he’d seen in movies and TV shows. Strangely the fear he always felt when he thought about a situation like this never hit him like he thought it would.

When he regained his awareness, he was still strapped into his seat. He could feel a warm trickle of blood trailing down his forehead. The next thing he registered was the smell of smoke and an incessant beeping coming from the dash. The next was the pounding of blood in his left arm. The limb felt like it was rapidly waving up and down over and over… but when he looked down it was completely still and looking sort of… big.

“Mom?” He finally looked over at her and paled as he took in the situation. She wasn’t moving. He tried moving his arm to undo his seatbelt, but the thing wouldn’t move. With a grunt of frustration, he used his right arm and carefully maneuvered himself up. It was slowly registering in his mind that his arm was probably broken. The downside of that was that the pain was also registering too, a nauseating burn that was spreading up into his shoulder and collarbone.

Now out of his seat, he returned his attention to his mom, pressing a hand over her heart… but he was shaking too much to feel anything properly. He stuck a finger underneath her nose and sighed in relief when he felt a weak flow of breath hitting him. He fumbled around and found her phone down near his feet. It had flown out of the cup holder when they crashed. He bent down and scooped it up, dialing the familiar numbers.

“911, what is the address of your emergency?” a stern voice came over the line, Bob took a shaky breath.

“I… I don’t really know…” He looked out his window at what he could see. “It’s too dark to see anything. But we were on I-75.”

“Do you remember what entrance you got on? Are there any road markers nearby?” The operator asked.

“207… entrance 207.” He closed his eyes for a second… bad idea, he didn’t want to open them.

“I have people on their way to help you. Okay? Can you tell me what happened?” The operator’s voice had softened at Bob’s shaky voice.

“Me and my mom… We got in a crash… My mom won’t wake up and I think my arm is broken.” He looked down at said arm again, the pain was in full force now, a horrific sensation between a hot burning and like he was being stabbed from inside his skin. “It really hurts…”

“I’m sorry kiddo, I have EMT’s on their way to you. Can you tell me your name and your mom's name?” Bob took a deep breath through his nose, trying to ease himself through the pain.

“I’m um… Robert Reynolds. My mom’s name is Annie Reynolds.” Tears were leaking down his face now. The pain was getting harder to ignore, harder to breathe through. “My arm really hurts.” He whimpered.

“My people are almost there, Robert.” The voice was soft and comforting now.

“Okay…” Bob whimpered, pushing his forehead against the cool window to serve as a distraction.

“What grade are you in, Robert?” The operator asked. Bob took a shaky breath, trying to think about it.

“I’m in Eighth grade.” He mumbled. The operator started saying more but Bob couldn’t focus on it. His arm felt like it was moving, coming up to touch his chest and swinging back down. It wasn’t doing that when he looked down, the limb was hanging uselessly and not moving. There was a second heart living in there as well, beating and pulsing against the inner skin of his bicep.

There was a third heartbeat in his stomach, like a hairline scratch over the skin there. He carefully lifted his shirt with his good arm, staring down at his stomach. The skin was clear, no scratching or bruising. No nothing. Weird. The left side of his face was burning, like a hot, thick sludge sticking to crevices that weren't there. His arm was the only thing that was broken, had he hit his head on something?

Bob finally set down the book and curled in on himself, pulling out his phone. He scrolled through social media to ease the ever present emptiness in his chest that he preferred to call boredom. All it did was make his brain go numb for a few minutes before his darkest thoughts started sneaking back in. Even so he fought through the thoughts and started playing a game. He only really had a phone again because Valentina had given the whole team phones as part of a brand deal with Apple. His last phone had been stolen by a fellow junkie when he was crashing on someone’s couch sometime when he was still living in Florida. He had been skeptical about the phone until he watched Yelena disassemble hers and check for any bugs. He had asked her almost manically to do the same to his. After he lost his game again he threw the phone down onto the cushions and finally sat up. He clambered off the recliner without bothering to put the footrest back in and wandered off to the kitchen.

The three supersoldiers on their team keep the kitchen well stocked, citing reasons of Being a supersoldier makes your appetite bigger. So Bob has no problem finding something to eat that didn’t make him want to vomit. In this case a bag of Microwavable popcorn. If anyone asked him why a bowl of greasy artificial popcorn didn't kill his delicate appetite all he would be able to do is shrug. How was he supposed to know? It just didn’t! He took the bowl of popcorn with him as he made a beeline for the elevator.

All of the avengers had different floors they could call their own. A general living space with a couch and TV, a kitchenette, a guest room and bathroom and a large interconnecting bedroom, bathroom, and closet. Bob hadn’t really taken the time to decorate his floor besides for the random blankets he had bought from various online shops he had scrolled for hours. He was thinking of adding more, but had been too indecisive to make a choice the last few times he tried to come up with something. He thought maybe a few posters would make his room look less like Ikea with no personality. There were a few bands he liked, The Beach boys, Guns-n-roses, The eagles. All bands he’d grown up with, His little stash of CD’s and his thrifted CD player. That was it! He’d get posters. He would ask Yelena to go with him right when she got back.

Or maybe he’d go himself. He was already enough of a burden to the team, and it’s not like he was on house arrest or anything. He ran to his closet and grabbed a clean hoodie, pulling it over his head. He stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, wetting down his hands and brushing them through his hair, taming it as best he could. He tilted his head as he studied himself and then shrugged, it was good enough. He stuffed his wallet and phone in his pockets and left the tower.

He emerged on the street and put an address into his maps. He'd looked up a few thrift stores and flea markets nearby. He wasn’t used to living in New York yet and he never really left the tower but he had navigation and sheer determination so it wouldn't be that bad.

Surprisingly it was actually alright. He got to the first store just fine. It was a small one room store tucked away on the side of a brick building. It had been praised for its cheaper prices and cozy atmosphere on the random reddit post he’d found and he had to agree. A soft yellow glow spread from various vintage lamps and light fixtures, the walls painted a nice green. He found a small corner of the store filled with old Vhs, cassette tapes and a barrel of posters. He pulled them out one by one, examining them carefully. There were a lot of vintage brand logos and avengers posters from when the original team first got together. He looked at the six faces, his eyes locking with the printed eyes of the red-headed widow. Yelena’s sister. He wondered how alike they had been. Was Natasha as blunt as Yelena? Did she comfort people in a way that made her seem that she was out of her element and yet was the only one who could seem to do it? They didn’t look alike, Yelena or Alexei had mentioned how they weren’t biologically related, But the sisters had the same determined glint in their eyes and that made him smile.

He wrapped the poster back up and put it in the barrel, going over to the small men's section. He found a very comfortable Coca-cola sweater for six dollars and slung it over his arm as he kept looking. After finding nothing else that interested him, he bought the sweater and left the shop, pulling up the next address.

The next store was larger and was a bit pricier, but he’d read that they had a larger selection of non-clothing items. The fluorescent lights were bright and assaulting when he entered and he had to practically squint against them. He had always been overly sensitive to them, especially when he was still in school. They gave him a headache and an awful twisting in his gut that felt too similar to a panic attack. Sometimes he blamed school lighting for his dropping out, not the fact that he’d been too high to focus. He basically speed-walked to the back of the store, finding an abnormally large binder with posters inside. He flipped through it and smiled as he finally found something that interested him. The offspring, A band he liked when he was around 13. They had felt edgy to him and chaotic enough for his high brain. He found a small paper taped off to the side.

‘Unclip the poster from the binder, plastic sleeve and all please!’ He did just that, getting his poster and making his way to the register to buy it. Once he had the poster secured he left, thankful he’d gotten something in exchange for suffering with those lights. He emerged on the busy street outside, looking at his phone again. He was so engrossed in finding his next destination that he didn’t notice the body stumbling toward him, not until they crashed into each other and the stranger flew to the ground. Bob’s eyes widened as guilt filled his system and he quickly went to help them up.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention at all and-” He started before being interrupted.

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt.” The stranger accepted his hand, and he pulled them up. The stranger pulled off their hood and gave him a small smile.

The red-headed woman stood across from him, looking disoriented and now slightly annoyed. She adjusted her hoodie and walked past him. Bob snapped out of his daze and turned to go after her. She was fast, even looking as pale and weak as she did she was weaving through the crowd like an expert, and if she was who Bob thought she was, then she was an expert. He caught up to her, walking beside her and trying to match her fast pace.

“Why are you following me?” She asked, never slowing her pace.

“What’s your name? I need to know your name.” Bob insisted. Guilt clawed at the back of his mind, Guilt for bothering this random person, for making her feel unsafe or uncomfortable.

“I don’t know.” She replied quietly. Bob caught it and squeezed his lips together.

“You don’t know?” he asked, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk but quickly catching up to her.

“No I don't.” Her speed somehow picked up and Bob let out a frustrated huff. The woman, fed up with him trailing behind her, turned to confront him.

“It’s not Natasha?” Bob asked. The woman stopped short, an awful high pitched ringing filling her ears. Her hands instinctively came up to cover her ears, her fingers curling into her hair. Bob stood there watching, confused at the reaction and unable to hear what she could. “Are you okay?” He asked hesitantly. The red-head let out a sharp painful gasp, stumbling to the side and colliding with the wall of a building. Bob almost reached out to grab her, before withdrawing his hands awkwardly. “Are you dying?” He asked awkwardly. The red-head slid down the wall as her body went limp, and subsequently Bob paled in horror.

“Well shit.” He rubbed his face and bent down to examine her. She was still breathing, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Not dead, that was good. He reached out and gently shook her shoulder. “Hey… wake up please…” She didn’t wake up.

He resorted to picking her up. He wasn’t really thinking, hardly noticing the stares from passersby that would usually bother him. He decided to take her to the watchtower. Who cares if it was a bad idea? He’d figure out the logistics later.

He hadn’t wandered far from the tower so he got there fairly fast, hopping on the elevator and going straight to his floor. Once he had the Natasha lookalike in his guestroom, He collapsed on the couch outside and stared at the TV.

Had he just kidnapped a woman off the streets? Just because she looked like his friend's dead sister? He groaned, Mortified, and hid his face behind his hands. He wasn’t even on anything! There was no reason for him to do that!

You’re a horrible man.

Nope. no. He shook the thought off. He couldn’t have just left her there, right? If he’d left her unconscious on a busy new york street, who knows what could have happened? Who might’ve had bad intentions?

Nobody needed to have bad intentions because you beat them to it.

The voice taunted. Bob wanted to sob. He took a breath in… and out… just how his therapist had taught him. He was just trying to help someone.

Help someone? You think you can help someone? Are you trying to be a hero again?

He took another breath. Pointedly trying to ignore the voice. Maybe he should take her to a hospital… she had just… collapsed. Maybe she needed brain scans or something. Bob stood up with that thought, deciding that he’d take her to the nearest hospital, they would help her more than he could, and then he also wouldn't have to worry about being responsible for a random person he’d picked up off the streets.

Before he could even walk to the guest room, the red-head emerged from the hallway, holding her head with a hand. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. “Where exactly am i?” She asked skeptically.

“You’re in my uh… my apartment. Yeah, my apartment.” Bob stammered out, his hands rubbing the hem of his sweatshirt to keep him from spiraling.

“Why?” She asked. She didn’t seem scared exactly, just wary. And why wouldn’t she be? He’d been horrible. Following her on the street, basically causing her to pass out, and then kidnapping her?

“Uh… you passed out and I uh… I wanted to get you somewhere safe?” He responded.

“If I passed out… why not a hospital?” She asked.

“Yeah… I wonder that too. Why not a hospital?” he mumbled. She tilted her head at him, clearly trying to figure him out. He shrunk away from her gaze and stared down at his shoes. “I can take you now if you like.” He offered.

“No. no it's okay.” She responded. “How do I get out of here?” He looked up.

“You- You’re leaving?” he asked. Of course she was leaving! You might be a killer for all she knows! “I mean… there… elevator.” He pointed to the elevator. She nodded and walked over, pressing the button. The elevator made a ‘ding’ sound and opened. The Natasha lookalike, as Bob was now referring to her, paused… almost frozen. Bob noticed, tilting his head in concern. He took a few steps closer.

“You okay?” he said quietly, careful not to scare her. She jumped anyway and a pang of guilt shot through him.

“I think i’ve been here before…” She whispered. She turned to him sharply. “Where did you say your apartment was again?”

“Well I didn't say where it-” He cut himself off at the look she gave him and cleared his throat. “It's the Avengers watch tower.” The Natasha look-alike winced at the name and she cradled her head.

“This is confusing as hell…” She mumbled to herself and gave up on the elevator, going to the couch and sitting down. Her posture was stiff, she was on-edge in these surroundings. Bob trailed behind her, sitting as far away from her as he could. He grabbed a pillow as he sat in the corner of the couch, hugging it tightly to his chest.

“So… You don’t remember things, huh?” He started. The woman's head snapped up to meet his eyes and he looked away awkwardly. “I get it… I forget things too.” It was a lousy attempt at connection, he realized, and self-loathing swirled in his gut,

“I think it’s different.” She responded dryly. He felt even stupider now.

You can’t even talk right.

“You’re probably right.” He agreed all too quickly. “So… is there anything you do remember?” The look-alike sat back, letting out a long breath as she thought. There wasn’t much she could go on, her brain was weirdly devoid of anything. It freaked her out if she were to be honest with anyone… she wasn’t, but if she were.

“I remember the sensation of falling… and then I found myself on the sidewalk. That's it.” She studied her clothes. Was this her fashion sense? Did she like wearing black cargo pants normally?

“Well… you can stay here, if you want… until you remember.” He offered. Then he remembered Yelena. This woman looked like her dead sister! “But… you’d have to be really careful and not leave this floor… and you can't let anyone see you.” The Red-head raised an eyebrow but nodded. This man, who looked like the personification of a kicked puppy, was weird. But she could tell he had good intentions so why not let it slide.

“Alright. I guess it couldn’t hurt. I don’t have any type of I.D on me and no money…” She nodded as she decided. “Do you have a room for me?”

“The room you woke up in is the guest room.” Bob said. “I don’t use it.” He fidgeted with his long sleeves.

“Thanks…” The look-alike studied him for a moment before getting up to find the room again.

“Oh… Wait!” Bob looked up as he called out. “What should I call you?” The red-head paused, seemingly stumped as she racked her brain for… Anything. A name popped into her head, and she responded.

“Let’s go with Natalie.” She said, Bob nodded, repeating the name under his breath as she walked out of the room.

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