Work Text:
Shatter
The ground on which they had once battled was empty. Whatever was left of their enemies was charred flesh and ash, and they left it like that. They supposed that, eventually, the earth there would get back to normal. The vultures would take care of the flesh, the decay would consume the rest. It was morbid, but it was okay; because neither of them were among the bodies left.
And right now, they were leaving those battlegrounds behind.
As their breathing was heavy, neither one spoke, though they both wanted to. The sound of heavy armor against solid ground spoke for them instead. Peter, in particular, focused on this noise, until the sound of it was almost the same to him as his own heartbeat. As long as that sound was there, he told himself, he could keep his mind from wandering into the darker places that they now left behind. As long as that sound was there, he could stay sane, and well, and alive.
"You did so well." His mentor's voice was exhausted, he could tell, but the fact that he made the effort of speaking- for him nonetheless- was enough to make him carry on.
"Thank you." He breathed, he concentrated. "Mr. Stark."
"I mean it. I know- it came out of nowhere for both of us- but you handled it so well," he was doing the best he could to keep speaking, keep giving a concentration to both of them, but his throat was dry and his mind blurry.
"I did my best."
There was silence again, and it was terrifying.
Tony, at a loss of words and air to speak, sighed and walked harder.
"Mr. Stark," he was taking his time to speak, mind obviously dwelling elsewhere. "Will we be home soon?"
"Yes. Yes, I think so." Words. Words. He had to come up with more words or his mind was going to glaze over. "Kid?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember that time I told you about the projectors?"
"You mean…" And he faltered. "How they work? That time?"
"Yeah. And the projectors- you know how they-" He realized with horror how lightheaded he was, and how the risk of fainting over was almost inevitable. But he couldn't. He couldn't let himself, knowing that the moment he did so he would most likely never get up again. For Peter's sake, he couldn't do that.
He looked down at Peter's face, his brown eyes hazy and difficult to see, and with that motivation, Tony kept walking.
"Kid, tell me...if we were home, right now. What- what do you see?"
He breathed, and it was the most beautiful thing Tony had ever heard.
Gathering his thoughts, Peter finally spoke again. "I see...curtains. The green ones, in the living room." There was the sharp sound of pain in his voice, as he spoke the last word, and Tony's mind chose to quickly ignore it.
"Uh-huh. What else?"
"I see the sofa. It still has that one side of it that won't stretch out, even if you pull the lever. There's our coffee table. And my Aunt is there, too, and she's waiting at the door for me to come home."
"But remember, we're already there. Right? In this 'projection' of ours...we're there."
"Oh." Another sharp breath. "Oh, right. Well, she hugs me when I get there, and-" his voice was cut off with another painful intake of oxygen. "She- she hugs you, too. But she gives you that look she does...when you and I have been gone awhile...and she knows it was risky...so she's...just a little mad at you." He tries to smile, and it's incredibly brief, but it's beautiful all the same. "She'll get over it, though. Because you kept me safe."
"I kept you safe," Tony said, as if he knew it were true. As if it weren't a question.
"You kept me safe," Peter repeated, and he emphasized the word, because he knew that Tony was prone to blaming himself. And no matter what happened, he didn't want that.
Why didn't I keep you safe?
But that question didn't have an answer, because that question was only a guilt trap he set for himself, and he knew it, and he ignored it because he knew it. He knew now was not the time to focus on his guilt.
He took another glance at the boy, and he tried to smile.
The boy, and there was no way to hide it anymore, was gasping for air in his arms.
"Mr. Stark." The way in which he said it made Tony's heart stop.
"Yeah?" At that point, he wasn't bothering to walk carefully, he was running. At that point, his face had begun to pale- almost to the point of Peter's state- and the windburn left a visible mark. At that point, his mind was three words away from shutting down.
"Mr. Stark, tell me what you see...like we're already there…" He winced as he spoke, trying not to think of the pain that excruciated him, trying not to upset Tony.
And Tony knew this, he could sense it, but he refused to truly see it.
"I see...I see...you."
"You see me...doing what?"
"I see you. Standing. And you smile at me. And I nod back at you. Because things are okay now. " The ache in his own limbs is ignored, in favor of making things, somehow, okay.
"They are." And a groan, somewhere within his throat, managed to surface and the sound cut his words off. "They are okay. Mr. Stark."
He looked up at Mr. Stark and, even though the man wasn't looking, he gave him the most sincere eyes that he could. He tried to force it in his mind, for himself, that it would be okay, in the end. And maybe it would be.
"Yeah." Tony heaved for air as he spoke, and it was then Peter realized they had been running- and he wondered at how long. "Things are okay."
The cold air, burning against the both of them, seemed to protest.
"How long, Mr. Stark?"
Tony didn't know, and he had no idea where he was, but just to give an answer, he told him a half an hour.
And Peter knew.
He knew he couldn't make it that long.
With a finality that sounded like the end of a world, he said one last time," Mr. Stark."
Tony looked down at him, no longer disguising in his mind the cruel way that things were. And he saw Peter, fading. "Yeah, kid?"
"Can we- can we stop? Can you...lie me down?" He felt feverish, despite the cold. Almost like he was back home, lying on the couch, about to fall into a last fever dream. The parts of him that ached were dull with pain, and though he felt like crying in anguish, he hardly had strength left to do so.
"I will. I will, but just- just hold on, kid. Maybe you just need- need a rest," Tony said, and he already knew what Peter meant, but he didn't have the strength, either, to accept it.
He lied Peter down, onto the dry, cold grass and he kneeled down as closely as he could. He blinked, and there was no disguise left. Peter- body still in the Spiderman suit, though his mask was off- was bleeding heavily at the chest. The blood left the suit a darker red than usual, and even though Peter clenched his left hand at the area, he couldn't feel the pressure. His face was tinged purple, and it brought color to his otherwise ghostly pale face.
The sort of ghostly pale, Tony knew, that meant-
"I'm really sorry…I just...I just...I know I can't-"
Tony shushed him, bringing a hand to the teen's forehead. Like he suspected, it had no heat.
"Peter- Peter, look...maybe we can keep going, if you just rest a moment." He was fooling himself, and he knew it, and he hated himself for it.
"No, Mr. Stark- I-I-I just…I'm-"
Neither of them acknowledged it, but in their hearts they knew.
Tony took a trembling breath. "Peter, just rest." He watched Peter's face the entire time, and watched as realization hit him.
"Mr. Stark- Mr. Stark- I don't want to...I don't want to-" he was gasping, panicking, sobbing the words. "I don't want to leave you. I'm not ready to. I'm not ready to leave Aunt May, or Ned, or- or-"
Tony hushed him with a kiss on the forehead that lingered until Peter stopped struggling for words. "I know, I know...We're not ready for you to, either." As he drew back, he brushed at Peter's windswept hair and pretended that nothing else mattered.
"I was just getting started...being Spiderman...and there was so much- so many more to-" The pain, growing duller by the moment, was becoming numb, and that was the terrifying thing. A sob broke from his pale lips.
"I know...I know…" Tony got closer beside him, wrapping his arms around the boy as best he could, trying to hold him, if only for that moment. "Peter…"
"Y-yes…?"
"Peter," he didn't mean to, but his voice broke with just that word. "I'll miss you. We'll all miss you." The moment tears started to spill, he knew there was no more pretending.
This was it. And if this was all they'd ever have, it would have to be enough.
"I'll miss you, too," the sobs were still in his voice, but as his eyes were becoming distant, they gradually subsided.
"Peter...Peter, can you still hear me?"
"Yes…" It was said in one breath.
There wasn't much time left.
He kissed the back of Peter's head, as quietly, as sincerely as his heart ached. Forcing a sob back, he cleared his throat. "It was an honor to mentor you. It was an honor, just to know you."
Peter's face seemed to light up, if only for just a moment. "I...I- Mr. Stark...I'm so glad...so glad...I got to know you..."
"Kid! Kid, keep- keep talking! It's going to be okay, kid-it's- can you...can you hear? Peter, can you-"
"Mr. Stark." He breathed it. His pain, his vision, slowly fading into nonexistence. He took a last glance at Tony, saddened by the look of pain that covered his face, but feeling that all of it, soon, would be over, and so he had to make a last move. He glanced up at the sky, hoping to direct the other's face away from his own. "Look at the clouds...Mr. Stark...aren't they...aren't they beautiful?"
As Tony glanced upwards, Peter breathed his last breath.
The clouds were beautiful, just as he said. The pale blue sky surrounding it, completely unaware that one of the most innocent, undeserving people in its universe had just died.
When Tony looked back, Peter's gentle brown eyes were no longer looking up at the sky. They were hazed over, empty of their once beautiful life.
Tony's world shattered at the sight.