The return to Naboo's swamps couldn't have come fast enough. When they reached the sealed bunker, they managed to rescue everyone just in time before the airborne virus could claim more lives.
With everyone safely evacuated, the final steps were taken to properly eradicate the Blue Shadow virus once and for all. The antidote was being produced at maximum speed as everyone from the underground bunker was transported back to Theed Palace and taken to the medical ward, where all survivors received immediate treatment.
In one section of the medical bay, Peter sat wearily in a chair positioned between two beds where Barriss and Ahsoka currently rested. He had barely moved from that spot since they'd been brought here.
In another area of the medical ward, Steve stood close to where Natasha was recovering.
"She and the others will make a full recovery with enough rest," Anakin announced, approaching Steve.
"Good to hear," Steve nodded with visible relief.
"How are Padmé and your Padawan doing?"
"They're fine," Anakin replied. "Speaking of which..."
Anakin recalled the amusing sight of Peter wincing dramatically when Ahsoka had poked his unusually sore arm earlier. The Jedi smirked at the memory of the pained groan Peter had let out.
The three teenagers seemed to be stirring now, slowly awakening after their brief separation from consciousness.
"I'll never forget his incredible performance," Anakin said.
Steve nodded. "Same here. I knew the kid from Queens was powerful, but seeing him in action like that was something else entirely."
"Queens? Like the music group?" Anakin asked, confused.
"There's a place on Earth called Queens. That's where Peter's from."
"So they named the place after the band?"
Steve rolled his eyes, realizing he needed to explain a bit more about Earth culture to clear up the confusion.
"Look, remember when I mentioned New York? Well, it has five boroughs..."
"I never lost faith in you, Peter," Ahsoka said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Neither did I," Barriss added in the same exhausted tone.
Peter hummed softly. "That's good to hear, because honestly, there was a moment when I thought I might not make it."
Peter felt a gentle hand on his arm. He looked over to see that both Padawans had shifted positions on their beds to face him better. He smiled and carefully raised his hands so he could hold theirs gently.
"You did save us," the Mirialan said quietly.
"I couldn't have done it without help," the Earth teenager said modestly. "But honestly... I really want to sleep like I'm in a coma right now. Staying conscious is just too painful."
Ahsoka grinned mischievously and quickly poked Peter's shoulder. The teen groaned in pain and nearly fell off his chair.
"Peter, what's wrong with you?" she teased.
"Don't be such a drama queen."
"...I don't think he's acting this time, Ahsoka," Barriss said after studying Peter's genuine reaction for a moment.
Ahsoka's expression shifted to concern at the sight of Peter's obvious discomfort.
"...I'm sorry, Peter."
"Ugh," was his eloquent response.
Soon after, the lights in the medical bay dimmed, and the resting patients finally drifted off to sleep.
Peter chose to remain where he was, dozing off in what felt like a suspended hammock formed by the connection between his two friends.
For the most part, it was relatively quiet, except for one particular Mirialan Jedi.
The young Padawan found herself in a strange state where sleep simply wouldn't come. She had already talked with Ahsoka and Peter, met with her Master and Commander Gree, and even spoken with some of the other Avengers and Jedi Masters.
The virus had truly exhausted her, and she was more than ready to sleep off her fatigue.
Yet she was the only one who couldn't fall asleep.
No matter how hard she tried.
She had considered using the Force to meditate herself into sleep, but her racing thoughts and current predicament overrode that option.
One might ask: what was this predicament?
Barriss turned over in her bed, facing Peter who was sleeping peacefully beside her.
She stared at him with wide-open eyes, unable to close them. Peter had fallen asleep easily enough, but her eyes weren't tired—they reflected the torrent of thoughts and emotions running through her mind.
The more she thought about it, the more conflicted she felt inside as she continued to watch the super-powered boy who had saved her life.
While she was aware of the efforts made by Master Kenobi and Skywalker, as well as Captain Rogers, in finding a cure for the Blue Shadow virus, all three knew very well who had truly saved Naboo.
Unconsciously, without realizing it, her hand reached out and her fingertips brushed against Peter's face.
He frowned slightly in his sleep but remained peaceful. What she didn't expect was for him to reach out and gently grasp her hand.
Barriss didn't pull away, but continued to stare at him, her eyes fixed on their joined hands.
At first, the Padawan was oblivious to her accelerated heartbeat and flushed cheeks, instead focusing on gently squeezing Peter's hand in return.
A smile appeared on her face as she looked at Peter with affectionate eyes.
She glanced toward Ahsoka, a sense of relief beginning to wash over her, knowing that her two dear friends were still alive.
As soon as the feeling came, however, Barriss realized what she was doing.
She looked down at her hand still entwined with Peter's and quickly pulled away before turning to face the opposite direction.
Curling up slightly, a rather conflicted expression appeared on the Mirialan's face as she sat hunched over with her chin resting on her knees.
She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, but it didn't work. Her mind was in turmoil as she lay in the medical bay, the only one awake.
"There is no emotion, there is peace..."
The jungle was dense, to say the least, with trees so tall they nearly blocked out the sunlight entirely.
Lying on the forest floor was a figure dressed from head to toe in a sleek black suit, just beginning to regain consciousness.
He groaned audibly, clutched his head, and slowly sat up from the ground.
The man muttered curses in his native language, and it took him a moment to process where he was.
The place seemed oddly familiar, but upon closer inspection, he realized this wasn't home. Not home as he knew it.
He carefully rose from the ground and crouched low.
Taking a moment to assess exactly where he was, he didn't recognize anything around him. Of course, that was to be expected, since that was his initial sober conclusion now that he was on his feet.
The trees were so dense that it was difficult for him to see anything beyond them.
Moving through them seemed like a daunting task, and he really had no idea what might be waiting for him.
So he stuck to doing what made him most comfortable.
If it had been anyone else, this would be a pretty intimidating environment.
Towering trees, unknown flora, no idea what might live here or whether it could be dangerous.
Intimidating to most people, yes.
But not for this particular individual.
He leaped forward, his gloved fingers extending into metal retractable claws, and gripped the nearest tree, scaling the tall bark with expert skill.
The man lunged forward several times like a predatory cat to cover more ground, using branches jutting out in all directions to speed up the process until he reached the canopy and...
The helmet on the man's suit retracted to reveal the confused expression of T'Challa, Prince of Wakanda, as he stared out at the seemingly endless jungle world before him.
The Black Panther was completely at a loss for what he should do now.
Where was he?
He immediately spoke into his communicator.
"Shuri," he called out. "Shuri, are you there? Can you hear me?"
No reply.
"Peter? Anyone?" He tried again, but once more, nothing.
Cursing to himself in Wakandan, T'Challa continued staring at the lush jungle he currently found himself in.
Now that he thought about it, this place didn't resemble anything he could find near Wakanda or anywhere on the African continent.
He knew about the Amazon rainforest, but...
These trees were taller than any tree he'd ever seen on Earth. At least, that's what the Prince of Wakanda believed.
He wasn't as brilliant as his sister, but he was no fool.
Either this was some unexplored region of Earth...
Or, if he really wanted to entertain a wild theory, it could be somewhere else entirely.
Perhaps another planet.
This definitely wasn't the astral ancestral plane of the Black Panther. He was certain of that.
The helmet reformed around his head, and he began leaping from branch to branch.
"What is this place?"
Finally, after what felt like hours, he spotted something ahead of him high up in the trees.
It looked like some kind of platform, and from it emanated the flickering light of what was undoubtedly fire.
He quickly picked up his pace and began moving straight toward the platform. Finally, he leaped up and landed on the wooden floor of his destination.
What he encountered was something rather tall... and furry. It paused what it was doing—cooking, judging by its appearance—and jerked its head toward the new arrival.
T'Challa wasn't quite sure what this large creature was supposed to be, but it seemed cautious rather than hostile. It didn't attack him.
Slowly, he raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, and his helmet retracted. His suit seemed to startle the creature momentarily, but it continued to watch him warily.
"...Hello," the Prince of Wakanda said calmly. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but can you tell me where I am? I'm rather confused about how I got here so suddenly."
The creature quickly let out a series of grunts and growls.
T'Challa couldn't understand a word of it.
"...I don't mean to be rude, but I'm having trouble understanding what you're saying."