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Ashes dance along an icy breeze, lifting from the blackened, burning bodies piled below the ledge Peter’s staring down from, and clinging to wisps of his hair. There’s fire all around him, crackling quietly against a suffocating silence, yet the air around him is frozen. His breath comes out in clouded puffs, and he crosses his arms, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit as he suppresses a shiver.
He can’t pinpoint a single face below him—everyone is charred, unrecognizable. He hops down the ledge with graceful ease, the light thump from his fall echoes against the walls around him. He’s in a cave of some sort, but he doesn’t know where or how he got there.
“Peter.”
Peter’s breath catches in his throat, and he whips around, both hands raised in a violent stance of defense. His muscles stiffen at the sight of Mysterio standing atop a pile of bodies.
“Beck,” Peter growls. “Did you do this?”
Beck tilts his head, and Peter studies the clouded orb hiding Beck’s face with a concentrated gaze. A familiar chill shoots down his spine, and he digs his heel into the ground, securing his stance.
“No.”
“Bullshit,” Peter calls out. “I know this is you.”
“Do you?”
Peter shoots a web as soon as Beck flies off the stack of bodies, but he misses. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he leaps into the air, jumping over bodies as he follows Beck. It’s growing dark around him, and Beck is just barely visible—just enough to keep track. But all at once, the dim lighting in the cave comes back, and Peter’s about to topple over the ledge he was on only moments ago, but a hand reaches out and snags his arm.
“Careful.”
Peter jerks his arm away and glares daggers at Beck. “What the hell is this, Beck?” His voice shakes as a biting breeze blows over him. “Why is it so cold?”
“Because…” Beck starts. He’s approaching Peter, and Peter takes a few steps back, conscious of the ledge right behind him. The orb around Beck’s face begins to shimmer and fade away, glass slowly sliding away until Tony’s face is staring back at Peter. “These deaths are on your hands.”
“M-Mr. Stark?” Peter stumbles back, and his heart begins to hammer against his chest. “What are you—why—” Tony’s hand wrapping around his throat cuts off his voice, and he brings one hand up to grab at Tony’s wrist.
“Tony,” he wheezes.
“You did this, Peter. You let all of these people die. You’re nothing but a disappointment.”
Tony throws Peter over the ledge, but instead of the ground, Peter hits icy water that stabs at him like a million needles. He tries to swim toward the surface, but he can’t move his arms or his legs, and lifeless bodies are pressing against him. His lungs are burning, and he lets out a scream that’s muffled by the murky water around him.
Through the water rushing in his ears, he can hear different voices calling out his name. He turns to see Ned, May, Happy, and MJ floating to the bottom with him.
“Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter. Pe--”
“—ter? Peter, bud, come on… Peter!”
Peter shoots up with a raw scream that gives way to rough, barking coughs. He moves one shaking hand to his side on instinct and presses it against his bruised ribs.
“Jesus, Peter. Take a breath, will you? You’re going to pass out.”
Peter pulls his focus toward his rattling lungs and wills them to clear and settle with what little mental strength he can muster, and after a few moments, he’s able to suck in a deep breath. It hurts, but it’s effective in clearing his vision. He looks over to see Happy seated in a chair beside his bed.
“H-Happy? What’re you—where’s May?”
“She had to step out for a little bit for work, and she asked if I would watch you. Are you okay?”
Nodding, Peter slowly eases himself back down against his pillow, but he keeps his eyes trained on Happy as the older man smooths a palm over his forehead.
“Aren’t your spider powers supposed to prevent this stuff from happening, kid? You’re a damn furnace.”
Peter feels cold all over, and he shivers, pulling his blanket back up to his chin. “I’ll heal—it’s just… it’s a lot to heal. My body’s trying to adjust.”
Happy offers a single nod at this and sits back in his chair, arms crossed. “So what was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“The very obvious nightmare you were having.”
Peter moves his gaze to his ceiling. Visions of the dream, of the burning bodies and Tony, flash across his mind. “It was nothing.”
“Peter,” Happy sighs. “I’m no stranger to nightmares.”
At this, Peter shoots his eyes back to Happy, a frown playing across his lips. “You have nightmares?”
“What? No, but Tony did… all the time. So what I’m saying is, I’m kind of an expert at this stuff.” He motions weakly with one hand, and Peter’s frown deepens, but he sighs and gives in with a nod, eyes moving back to the ceiling.
“I saw Beck… well, I thought it was Beck.” Peter blinks away the angered look in Tony’s eyes. “Turns out it was Mr. Stark. He—uh—he called me a disappointment and threw me into an ocean of bodies he said I let die.”
Peter’s eyes are burning with tears, and he lets out a trembling breath.
“Can I tell you a secret, Peter?”
“Sure,” Peter says, voice cracking as a few tears slip down his face.
“Tony and I argued a lot about you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re just a kid, and he put a lot of pressure on you that I wasn’t a huge fan of. But he won every argument. Want to know how?”
“How?” Peter’s voice is barely above a whisper.
“He would always say, ‘Peter’s got this. He’s the person I wish I could have become.’”
“I don’t--- I don’t understand,” Peter says around a weak cough. He swipes at his tears, frowning when Happy laughs.
“Whoever actually understood that man?”
Peter cracks a smile despite the tears welling in his eyes.
“Trust his trust in you, Peter.”
“I’ll try,” Peter says with a weak nod as Happy places a hand on his forehead once more.
“Good—now go back to sleep because this city needs its friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.”