My chest tightens when I see them waiting for us on the cabin's front porch. Mum is crouched in front of a little girl that I assume is Morgan. Next to them, May is nervously shifting on her feet as she talks to Happy.

They notice us as we approach, and May wastes no time in running up to Peter. I awkwardly wrap my arms around myself as I stand off to the side. Happy doesn't seem to mind though. He just pulls me into a tight hug that makes it all come flooding back.

I can feel him shaking with every breath he takes. It's a reminder that I'm not the only one who lost someone they cared about. My hands bunch his jacket up into my fists as I desperately try to hold back the tears threatening to flow once more.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. He meant a lot to so many people." I nod and try to steady myself as he pulls away to arms length. "Are you holding up all right?"

"Considering that I was dead for five years, brought back, saw my Dad die, found out I have a little sister, and also lost someone else who was family to me?" I shake my head. "I'm still processing, and I don't know if I'll ever be okay with it all."

"No matter what, you won't be alone." He tries to make it sound upbeat and encouraging, but for some indistinct reason, I find it hard to believe him.

My thoughts are interrupted by a child's voice. "No! Daddy said he'd come home." Morgan is standing in front of Mum, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her foot stomps and hands push away Mum's. "He told me he'd come home."

I take a deep breath and try to gain an ounce of composure. It doesn't register in my head that I'm moving until I'm kneeling in front of the porch step at eye level with Morgan. "Hey, hey." She sniffles and wipes her face. "Dad—he isn't really gone. Yeah, we may not be able to hear or see him, but he always told me that he would always be with us. You wanna know how?"

"Y-yeah." She hiccups and watches me with wide eyes.

"Right here," I gently point to her heart, "and in each other."

Her hands cup over her heart as she softly smiles, "Really?" I nod and try not to cry again as she presses her ear to my chest so she can hear my heart. "I—I think I hear Daddy."

Mum and I both smile at each other with tears brimming in our eyes. There's still the ache buried deep in my chest. It's the kind that makes me want to scream at the world before crawling into bed and never come out again.

I doubt Morgan will let that happen. Despite the sadness, she's dragging me around, introducing me to all her stuffed animals, and shows me my room. It's exactly like my room back at Dad's flat. All my furniture is here, my photos hung on the wall, and papers littered exactly how I left them.

Morgan grabs my hand when she realizes I've gone eerily still and quiet. "Are you okay?"

A part of me wants to lie to her, but I know that she'll likely see through it. "No," I whisper and sit down on my bed, "Not really."

"Will a hug make it better?" I crack a smile at my little sister and nod. Her little arms wrap around me as tightly as they can. "Momma said that we have to help you with this 'a duck mint.'"

"Well, the hug is all ready doing wonders." She smiles a little wider at it. "Thank you, Morg."

"You're very welcome." She nods triumphantly as if her grand mission is finally accomplished.

I look up to see Peter leaning in the doorway, smiling at us. "You what else might make all of us feel better?" I ask her and tickle her sides until she laughs. "How about, we all get into comfy clothes and watch movies together?"

"Disney movies?" Her smile breaks across her face so wide I can see her few missing teeth. She looks over to Peter in the doorway and her eyes seem to get a little glimmer. "Can Peter come?"

"What do you say, Pete? Wanna join movie night?"

A sad smile breaks across his face as he looks at Morgan, and I know he's having the same thought I did—Morgan looks so much like my Dad. "I'd love that."

"Do you wanna go let Mum and Happy know while Peter and I get cleaned up?" I ask, still feeling sand rubbing my skin raw. Morgan nods and bounds off to spread the news. Once she's gone, I turn to Peter again, "How's May?"

"Shaken up, but she's doing all right. I don't think she remembers much of what happened." He sits down next to me, and I take his hand in mine. "How's Morgan?"

"I think she'll be okay. She's all ready crazy smart and a little bundle of energy." I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder. "I just hope she doesn't forget him."

"With you around? I doubt she could."

"Then why do I feel like I'm going to mess everything up? I'm not my Dad. He may not have always had the answers, but he always helped me through things. What if—what if I can't do that for her? I've never had to take care of anyone but myself before."

"You think your Dad did either before you came along?" Peter replies. "No one knows how to be a big sister, a parent, a boyfriend, or anything to someone until they get the chance. Everyone is figuring everything out as they go, and I have a feeling you'll do great."

"I really hope so." I pull away enough to look at Peter. "I really don't know what I'd do without you. Please, tell me you aren't going to be leaving soon."

"Thankfully, no. Your mom offered for us to stay until we can find a new apartment. Apparently someone moved into our apartment while we were—you know."

"Is it bad that I'm a little bit happy about that?"

"No, because I am too." He sighs and rest his head on my shoulder. "I can barely close my eyes without feeling like I'm going again."

"I know the feeling." I run my fingers through his hair. "We probably should get cleaned up before Morgan starts getting impatient."

"But, I don't have any clothes."

"Actually, you do. I might have kept all the clothes you lent me during study nights. They're in the bottom drawer, if everything's still in its place."

"Normally, I'd question it, but right now, I'm so happy you did."

I let out a laugh and grab him a change of clothes while grabbing some for myself. "I think Morgan said the washroom's down the hall. I'll clean up and meet you in the sitting room?"

Peter's hands brush over mine as I pass him the clothes, and he holds me there for an extra moment. "Hey," he whispers and closes the distance between us, "I meant what I said before. We're going to be okay. It may take some time, but I'll be with you the whole time."

"I know. It's one of the many reason I love and appreciate you so much." I wrap him in a tight hug and relish the feeling of being close to him because right here, right now, I feel a little less broken and a little bit safer.

Of course, we have to pull away after a minute when Morgan comes storming in with Wiggles, her stuffed octopus in her arms and pajamas on. "Were you guys kissing?" She questions, which makes Peter and I blush.

"No, we were just talking, Morg. You can let everyone know they can start the movie. We'll be down in a little bit."

"Okay." She nods hesitantly and heads downstairs.

I offer Peter a half smile as we both go our separate to clean up. It's strange walking into the master bedroom and realize this is where Mum and Dad spent the better part of five years. Even worse, Mum's going to have to be here alone from now on, and Dad's never going to be here again.

I want to cry again, but I'm all out of tears.

My suit is practically glued to my body with the buildup of sweat and grime. The clothes underneath are even worse. I drop my head and enjoy the feeling of the warm water and soap. The grime washes down the drain, and I wish it could take the last few days with it.

I dry myself off and just stand there for a minute. All the weight I feel like I've been carrying seems to double. Because now it's undeniably real. I can't pretend it was just a bad dream. The dirt and tears in my suit prove otherwise.

Still, I force myself to finish getting ready and head downstairs. Morgan is waiting on the couch in-between Mum and Peter with Wiggles and a blanket around her. The moment she sees me though, she bolts off the couch and grabs my hand. "C'mon, Lia, you can sit with me and Peter."

I let her drag me along and crack a smile as she cuddles against my side. Meanwhile, Peter wraps his arm over my shoulder. It helps distract me from the throbbing pain in my head and chest.

Everyone except Morgan seems pre-occupied despite the movie playing. It's not surprising with everything that's happened. Still, we all pretend to watch it until Morgan is out cold. I lean into Peter as everyone else says their goodnights while Mum goes to tuck Morg in.

"It's still weird to think that we were gone for five years." I mumble and think back on everything Mum's told me.

Peter nods, but I barely register it and wait for Mum to come back down. It takes her a few minutes before she comes back down with a couple pillows in her arms. "Are you okay sleeping on the couch, Peter?"

"That's fine, Mrs. Stark." He chimes in.

"Actually, is it okay if I sleep down here too?" I chime in. "I—I just don't feel like being alone right now."

Mum's eyes soften as she looks between the two of us—obviously exhausted, terrified to sleep, or be alone. "Actually, why don't you two go upstairs and sleep in your room. Just leave the door open in case you need anything."

I nod, a little bit relieved that she'll let us share a room. Mum just offers me a sad smile as she heads back upstairs, and it makes my chest ache even more knowing that she'll have to spend the night alone for what I assume is the first in a very long time.

Peter and I stay silent for a long while as we go upstairs. It's pretty clear nobody is going to sleep well—if we actually get to sleep at all. My fingers hover over the light switch, but for some reason, just picturing being in the dark makes my chest horribly tighten.

"Can—can we leave the lights on, just a little bit?" Peter voices the same thought I was having. "I mean, obviously, not on all the way, but just enough so it's not—"

"I was actually thinking the same thing." I mumble and dim the lights just enough to where I can take my glasses off without immense pain and slide under the covers next to him. "We really should try to get some sleep."

"Not sure if I can." He mumbles as his arms pull me closer up against him. "Every time I close my eyes, I swear I'm back on Titan or watching—you know."

"Yeah, I do." I mumble and run my fingers through his hair. "Still, I'm not going anywhere. Like you said before, we're never going to be alone in this."

Peter softly nods as he watches me. It's obvious he's fighting off exhaustion like I am, but I think we're both terrified to give in.

I can't fall asleep. All I do is stare at the ceiling and wonder at how life is going to be now. There's so much that's happened while we were gone, dead, or whatever it's going to be called. I've got Morgan to help watch out for, Nat and Dad are gone, Wanda's drowning in her own grief—well, we all are actually, and I can't even close my eyes for a second without seeing it all happen again.

Peter notices the shift and pulls me tightly into his chest. "Lia," He sighs as his fingers brush through my hair, "you've got to get some sleep. It's not okay for you to keep running on fumes—REM or not."

"How am I supposed to with everything on my mind?"

"I have an idea," Peter whispers as he begins to softly sing. The comfort of his voice and touch is enough to lull me into a softer state.

Of course, the exhaustion and comfort from Peter beats out everything else. My limbs start to grow heavy as Peter's heartbeat and voice serve as an effective lullaby. I hold onto him tightly as I drift off and pray that I'll be free of nightmares for once.

I wake up, covered in sweat with my heart trying to hammer it's way out of my chest. My eyes scream in pain each time I open them. It's not until I slip my glasses on that I realize it's because the sun is pouring in through the curtains I forgot to close.

Peter groans next to me as he begins to wake up too. His hands are shaking as they still hold onto my waist, and I can see the worry creasing his brow. "You have a bad dream too?" I ask as I try to settle my breathing.

"Yeah." He groans with his raspy morning voice that sounds so cute. "Did I wake you?"

"No, you didn't." I lay back down and look at Peter. "I was more worried I woke you up."

"A little bit, but I wasn't sleeping well either." His fingers intertwine with mine as we just enjoy the quiet and each other's company. "How you feeling?"

"Awake and not trapped in a loop of my worst nightmares, which is about it." I sigh and look up at him. "I just keep thinking about everything that's happened, if Dad knew the whole time what was going to happen, and a million other things."

"Hey," Peter whispers as his hands rest against my cheeks, "don't do that to yourself. I know it hurts, but once you start it's hard to stop."

"Doesn't mean that I still don't wanna know." I reply softly and start crying. "I just—I don't want it to be real. I'd rather wake up and find that this was all a dream or find out it was something he decided in the moment. I don't think I can handle it if he knew and chose to do it—even if it sounds selfish since he saved the universe. I just want my Dad."

I can feel Peter shaking as we desperately cling to one another. "I do too."

There's a commotion from downstairs, which I can only assume means breakfast. Dad always makes a racket whenever he attempts to cook.

Made. He always made a racket. Past tense.

I guess it's still sinking in that he's gone.

"It gets better, right?" I pull away to look into his tear-filled brown eyes. "I mean, it has to right? Or does every day hurt this much?"

"At first, and for what feels like forever, it's gonna hurt so bad you think you won't make it. There will be days when you'll only remember the good stuff. Then, when you think it's going to keep going forever, you realize it's nothing more than a dull ache in your chest." He tells me and rests his head against mine, "It will get better. I promise."

I nod and lean into the comfort his touch brings. "Thank you."

"No need. It's what I'm here for." He cracks a soft smile and pulls away a fraction. "C'mon, let's go downstairs. You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry," I lie. There's a hollow pit in my stomach, but the thought of food makes me feel even worse. "I don't think I could if I wanted to."

"Please, Lia." He calls as his thumb brushes over my cheekbone. "I know you're hurting, but you're gonna fall apart if you don't eat something. That's the last thing anyone wants to happen. We can't lose anyone else."

I sigh and look down at my hands, "Okay."

Peter helps me to my feet and ensures his hand never leaves mine. Downstairs, the kitchen is somber, despite Morgan's quiet chatting with her stuffed hippo, Wallace, I think she named him. Everyone is settled on the couch or dining chairs.

No one dares to look at one another.

Whatever motivation and energy I had for the day evaporates at the sight, and if it wasn't for Peter's tight hold on my hand, I'd trudge back upstairs and never get out of bed again. I don't know how to face a world without them. It never occurred to me that—even in our line of work—they would be gone so soon.

Mum looks up from her coffee mug when we enter. There's bags under her bloodshot eyes. I know she's doing everything she can to hold herself together, but I can still see the cracks in the facade. It was the same way when we thought Dad was dead years ago, except this time, there's no miracle or message waiting to tell us otherwise.

"Hey, you two." She calls with a raspy voice, "Sit down, Happy's almost finished with breakfast."

"He's making funny pancakes!" Morgan cheers from her spot on the floor, and I almost feel a laugh emerge. Happy's not the ultimate chef and his pancakes always come out in silly shapes.

"Yeah, he is." Mum replies, her eyes linger on Morgan a moment longer. For a second, I start to think the grief is turning her into a ghost, but the look in her eyes tells me she won't let Morgan lose another parent. "We have to start making arrangements for the memorial service."

My stomach churns at the words. "He always wanted something small." I mumble and fall into a seat. "I was always knew it's because he thought no one would show. He never really knew how much he meant to people."

"No, he didn't," Mum echoes and grabs my open hand, "but he always knew how much he meant to us."

"I really hope so."

"I know it." Mum offers a soft grin. "He always knew how much he meant to you and how much you loved him. Everything he did, he did for us. Promise me you won't let yourself forget that?"

A lump forms in my throat. I can't stop questioning it, despite always knowing that if nothing else was true, Dad cared about me more than anyone else ever did. "I promise, Mum." It's true. I don't think I could ever forget it, no matter what, I'll always remember that—I'll always remember him.