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The ache in Tony’s back was the first thing the man registered as he came back to consciousness. It was stiff and uncomfortable, but when he went to move, he found that he couldn’t. It seemed like an eternity for the inventor to open his eyes, but once he did he found that he was strapped to a chair. Arms and legs bound on the extremities of the metal seat, as well as his midsection and chest. Well, that explained the sore back.
Doing his best to stretch out in his limited space, Tony slowly lifted his head to get a better look at the area around him. It was a pitch dark room, some sort of cellar or closet. And at the end of Tony’s vision light could be seen filtering through the bottom section of a door. Okay so he wasn’t blindfolded.
Letting out a grunt, the man tried to twist a bit more in his bindings, only letting out a low moan as his head began to throb.
“Mr. Stark?” A boyish voice called out from the darkness. If Tony wasn’t strapped to the metal chair, he would have jumped a few feet in the air. But instead he jerked violently in place.
“Jesus Christ,” Tony spat, unaware that he had not been alone in the room. The man felt like his heart was going to hammer out of his chest and all he could do was close his eyes and try to take in deep breaths. Suddenly the realization that he knew who that voice belonged to hit him and in an instant Tony’s stomach dropped. Now a new reason to panic was washing over him.
“Pete? That you?” The older man stammered, his eyes straining in the dark to try and see the source of the voice.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Peter replied back almost instantly. His voice seemed energetic, and there was no slurred speech, so he hoped the kid was okay. It was one thing for Tony to be held captive by himself. But bringing his kid into the mix was another situation entirely.
“You okay?” Tony asked. “Injury report, I want it now. Don’t try and be a hero and hide things from me,” Tony quickly added on. A soft chuckle rang out in the darkness and Tony could practically see Peter rolling his eyes at him.
“I’m okay. I think I got punched in the face pretty hard, my right cheek kinda hurts and I think I’m going to have a black eye. But I’ll live,” Peter replied. Tony wasn’t happy with the response, but from the sound of it Peter was being honest. He appreciated that. “What about you?” The teen then asked, only to be met with silence. “Injury report Mr. Stark. Don’t try and be a hero,” The boy said, turning Tony’s words against him.
All the inventor could do was close his eyes and groan. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was in pain, or if he was just annoyed with his kid. But as he did so he began to take stock of his injuries as well. Or, at least what he could feel.
“I have a pretty nasty headache,” Tony replied after a moment. “And my shoulders and back hurt. But I’m okay,” Tony said, letting out a heavy sigh.
“A headache tracks. You were hit pretty hard in the head,” Peter said. Tony’s eyes widened as he tried to remember what had led them to being in this situation, but he was coming up blank.
“You- You were there? We were together when we were taken?” Tony asked, his mind now feeling like a pile of burnt scrambled eggs. Fried, rubbery, and all mixed up.
“You don’t remember?” Peter asked, concern dripping from his voice. “We were walking to Big Gay Ice Cream to try their new flavor when we were jumped.
“Huh,” Tony muttered, as he tried to wrack his brain for some sort of memory to confirm what his intern was saying. Unfortunately the only thing coming to mind was ice cream piled high on a chocolate dipped cone. “Some sort of salted caramel flavor?” Tony asked, only to hear Peter huff out a soft laugh from his nose.
“Yeah, something like that,” Peter replied.
Tony opened his mouth to ask another question but suddenly the door was opening and someone was walking in as the lights were turned on. The sudden change in brightness caused Tony to clamp his eyes shut and suddenly he found himself trying to will away the nausea that was building in his stomach.
“How are we doing Mr. Stark? Comfortable?” A male voice said, a few feet away from Tony’s right ear. The need to reply was strong, but the nausea was stronger and all Tony could do was tilt his head back and close his eyes and he tried to keep his lunch in his stomach.
When Tony didn’t reply the voice moved more to the center of the room. “How about you boy? Enjoying your stay?” The man asked. Tony silently begged Peter to keep his mouth shut for just once in his life, because this was not the situation for the kid to mouth off. And to his surprise, Peter stayed quiet.
“My, my, my, not very chatty today I see,” The voice said before Tony felt a hand grip the bottom of his chin and tilt his head up. Peeling his eyes open felt like an eternity but soon Tony found himself looking at a black ski mask with two blue eyes staring back at him. The eyes sent a shiver down Tony’s spine, making him avert his eyes. His vision wondered before his sights landed on the boy who was sitting a few yards in front of him against the opposite wall.
Peter had definitely been through a beating. His left eye was swollen shut while black and blue bruises were peppered across his face. But for the most part, the kid looked okay. In fact, Tony found himself thinking that the kid had come home from patrols looking a little worse than the state he was currently in.
The sound of metal clicking together suddenly dragged Tony out of his head and in a moment the inventor realized that the masked man had clamped a metal collar around his neck. A sharp sting erupted from the right side of Tony’s neck, making the man want to vomit even more. There had to be needles or spikes on the inside of the collar, and they were digging into his skin.
“Hey! What are you doing to him?” Peter interjected, pulling at his bindings, but they wouldn’t move. “Get that off of him!”
“Don’t worry kid. I have one for you too,” The masked man cooed as he turned to look at the teen. In his hand rested an identical metal collar to what Tony sported and at the sight of it Peter recoiled in his seat.
“Come on now. aren't you excited?” The man asked, a sick laugh leaving his lips as he advanced on the boy.
“Hey,” Tony weakly interjected. “Leave my kid out of this. He’s- He’s just a child,” The man said, taking in a ragged breath. Tony wasn’t sure if it was a head injury he was suffering from, or an oncoming panic attack, but everything was spinning and he was struggling to breathe. He was even having a hard time focusing on what was happening in front of him, but the distress in Peter’s voice was keeping him grounded. If he only could do one thing, it would be protecting Peter.
“I wish I could Mr. Stark, but the boy is crucial for this scenario to play out,” The masked man said as he took a few more steps closer to Peter before latching the metal band around his neck. The boy let out a small whimper but did his best to swallow the pain.
“What are these things? Huh? You think you can control us with these?” Peter spat, jerking forward towards the man in a feeble attempt to actually bite him. “You got some master plan you’re going to tell us about? World domination? Taking the Avengers down a few pegs, starting with Tony and his intern?”
“Woah kid. You’re getting ahead of yourself,” the man chuckled as he patted Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll let you two get comfortable for a moment. When I come back, maybe I’ll answer some of your questions.” And with that the man left the room.
Tony was grateful that the mystery man left the lights on this time. He now had something to look at, something to ground himself, and all Tony could do was stare at the kid who was sitting in front of him as he took in labored breaths. It almost felt like an out of body experience for Tony, because he could feel himself spiraling out of control, while at the same time having some very lucid thoughts. Like how the collar was set up.
From his position he could see there was a small vial of blue serum that was attached to the collar and the spikes that he was feeling in his own neck made him think that they were actually needles. Something would be injected into them. But what it was and what it would do to them was the real question.
“Mr. Stark, please calm down. You’re gonna make yourself pass out,” Peter’s voice called out, cutting through the rush in Tony’s ears. In a sudden realization that he was hyperventilating, Tony sucked in a choked breath before trying to hold it in, but his chest just ached.
“Hey Mr. Stark. It’s okay, it’s all okay,” Peter called out, worry plastered on his face. “We’re in some weird basement, but we’re okay. We’re going to be okay. It’s like November eighth. Thursday I think. I don’t know what time it is but you’re here with me. You’re here with Peter Parker,” Peter said, watching as the man tried to slow down his breathing. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us later. But in this exact moment you’re safe. And I’m here,” Peter said, dread pooling in his stomach as he watched his mentor fall apart in front of him. It took a bit more of talking, but eventually Tony did calm down, leaving the two sitting in silence.
“Peter. I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going to happen but-” Tony rasped out, only to be cut off by Peter’s cheery voice.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s all okay,” Peter said, really hoping that the current discussion wouldn't trigger another panic attack. “Besides. We don’t know what this guy’s end game is, or what is going to happen. Maybe it’s harmless,” Peter said, earning an eye roll from the man that was sitting in front of him.
“Yeah right,” Tony huffed, and he left it at that.
And in about ten minutes time the man came back, holding two egg shaped orbs.
“Here hold this,” the masked man said, shoving the orb into Tony’s hand before moving over to Peter and doing the same. “Now don’t let go of these until you’re ready,” The man says, eyeing his two prisoners. “It’s a matter of life and death,” he elaborated.
“What are you doing to us?” Tony demanded, his eyes narrowing as he gripped the contraption. If there was one thing he could discern, it was that this was some sort of button. A trigger.
“Oh I’m not doing anything to you Mr. Stark. You’re going to do everything. You and the kid,” The man sniggered.
“What do you mean by that?” Tony demanded, jutting out his jaw in defiance as he looked at his captor.
“This is a very simple set up. Really. So don’t mess it up,” The blue eyed man said as he backed up towards the exit so that he could see his two captives. “Each button controls the other collar. When you let go of the button, the opposite collar will release a poison into the other’s blood stream and they will die. When that happens the restraints will release and the other will be free to leave.” The man said, clapping his hands together.
“And why are you doing this?” Peter interjected, his brow furrowed as he pulled against the metal straps.
“For fun,” The man said, clearly giddy. “I honestly don’t care what the outcome is. But I do know that it will be a good show,” He said, backing towards the door. “I’ll leave the door open for you. There is no time limit, so spend as much time as you need together before you choose who dies,” the man laughs. And just like that he’s gone.
No motive. No (real) explanation. Just gone.
“Mr. Stark-” Peter suddenly says, and Tony’s blood runs ice cold. He knows his kid. He knows exactly what he’s about to say, and at that exact moment in time Tony can’t bear to hear those words.
“No Peter. We’re not going to have this conversation,” Tony says, cutting the boy off. “We’re going to sit here and someone is going to find us. Someone will get us out of this situation and we are never going to have to come to this decision. We are not going to have this conversation.”
“But...what if no one comes? What if they don’t come in time?” Peter questions. “Eventually one of us is going to get tired and fall asleep. We’re not going to last,” Peter says, his voice heavy with some sort of emotion that Tony can’t place.
“Hey kid. Don’t think like that, okay?” Tony says, though he’s not sure if he’s comforting Peter or himself. “Someone has to know that we’re missing by now, right? They’ll start looking. They’ll find us,” Tony insists.
“Yeah but-” Peter begins but the older man just cuts him off again.
“We’re not discussing this Peter. Drop it.” And with that Tony tightens the grip on the button.
Hours have passed since the previous conversation and the two only sat in silence. The entire time Tony was trying to figure out how to get out of the situation while Peter just looked at the floor with a pained look on his face. As Tony sat there, though, the thought that he might die here began to infiltrate his thoughts. Peter was a kid. A superpowered kid with a high metabolism that he was sure was eating away at his body. He was going to get tired. He was going to slip up. And somehow Tony was going to be okay with it.
He was old and had lived a pretty long life. A hell of a lot longer than Peter had. If he had to choose, he would always pick Peter to live, there wasn’t any question about it. But Tony came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to go down fighting. No matter how it would pain Tony to keep nagging the suffering kid, Tony decided he would yell at him. He would do anything in his power to keep Peter lucid and awake enough to keep hold of the button. He just had to hold out till help arrived.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered a few hours later. “You should really let go of the button. I’m enhanced. I have a healing factor. I’m going to be able to survive this better than you. If someone can survive this. It’s the only way we have a possibility of both making it out.”
“And what if you don’t survive?” Tony said, his tired brown eyes flickering to meet the boy’s.
“Then that’s the price I’m willing to pay to make sure you make it out alive,” Peter said quickly, as if he already had the answer prepared.
“Well that’s not the price I’m willing to pay,” Tony replied back. The older man was honestly surprised he didn’t have a little more heat in his voice, but he just chalked it up to being absolutely exhausted.
“Tony,” Peter pressed, the boy’s face contorting to something of worry and anger. (Maybe despair was the right way to describe it.) “I can’t hold on forever. And...I can’t...I can’t lose you. I’ve lost too many important people in my life. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to the other side if I lose you,” Peter warned, tears building up in the corner of his eyes.
“You’re not going to lose me kiddo’,'' Tony insisted, his heart clenching as he watched his kid. “And I’m not going to lose you. We’re going to do our best to keep each other awake and help is going to come,” Tony insisted.
It felt like an eternity as the two sat in their metal chairs, waiting. Stories had been traded back and forth for hours. Peter had heard every story from Tony’s MIT days, and now the man was going through every detail of what it was like to grow up with a nanny. It was definitely boring, but it kept them alert.
Soon Peter was the one that was telling a story. Something about the trip to Central Park that he and Ned had taken a few weeks back. The boy was halfway though saying a word when he noticed Tony’s head lolling forward and his eyes drooping closed.
Peter’s first instinct was to shout at Tony to wake him up. But the thought died as he cut off the yell that was coming out of this throat. No one was going to come for them. They would eventually, but Peter couldn’t risk himself falling asleep. He could never forgive himself if he killed Tony. He would rather die. He would die. For Tony.
So with a shaky breath, Peter leaned against the chair. Tears began to flood out of his eyes and Peter held in a small sob as he thought about all the people he was about to leave behind. May. Ned. MJ. Happy. Pepper. Morgan. Tony.
“I’m sorry Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered under his breath as he closed his eyes, feeling the tears now tracking down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I-I love you,” Peter whispers, and then waits for Tony to let go of the button.
Tony fucked up. He had absolutely fucked up.
The sound of the button clattering to the floor jared him from his light doze and in an instant, Tony woke up.
“Peter!” the man shouts just as he hears the kid let out a loud gasp. The boy in front of him was already rigid in his seat, his neck bent backward in pain. From the angle he’s sitting at Tony could see that the blue liquid is gone from it’s container. “Pete! Peter! Come on kid. Talk to me,” Tony stammered, pulling at his bounds, but nothing budges. All he gets in reply is his pained grunts and groans as the boy’s stiff body shakes. And then he screams.
The sound that rips through the air is absolutely animalistic as Peter begins to thrash in his seat, tears falling from his face as he does so. The boy’s body spasms and Tony can see his eyes rolling in the back of his head as the boy struggles to take in a solid breath in between screams. In an instant everything changes and the boy is suddenly falling to the floor, his head hitting the concrete with a sickening crack. It takes Tony a moment to realize it but Peter’s bounds are open and in another delayed second, Tony realizes that he is free as well.
With uncooperative limbs Tony pulls himself away from the chair and crawls towards the writhing body on the floor. As he does so, the collar on his neck falls away and all the man can do is kick it out of his path as he makes his way towards his kid.
Tony’s hands hover over Peter’s body as the inventor tries to figure out how he can help his kid. He wants to move him, but since the boy fell from his chair Tony’s a little apprehensive. He can see a small pool of blood collecting at the top of his head. But Peter is still shaking. His screams have stopped but harsh breaths rip though his throat as he desperately tries to fill his lungs with air.
“Hey Pete, I’m here,” Tony breathes as he puts a hand on Peter’s back. Tony reaches with his other hand and slowly rolls the boy over. Peter’s breathing, as labored as it is, is slowing at this point and Tony pulls the boy’s head into his lap. Blindly, Peter reaches out a shaking hand and waves it in the air before making purchase with Tony’s shirt. “I’m here. Just breath, you got this kid. Just relax,” Tony said, his chest tightening as he watches his kid writhe in his lap.
And then the kid just stops breathing.
Tony feels like his stomach is going to crawl out of his throat as he waits to see Peter take another breath, but it doesn’t come.
“Peter, come on kid. Breathe,” Tony demands as he pats the kid’s cheek. The kid’s face is now slack, though, and the older man can see the light quickly fading from his kid’s eyes. “No, No, No!” Tony stammers as he grips Peter’s shoulders hard and shakes. “You can’t give up kid, come on,” Tony sobs, but still nothing.
In one fluid motion, Tony finds himself hovering over his surrogate son and giving him chest compressions. The boy’s body gives with the force on each compression, and Tony hates how he can feel the kid’s ribs give way. But he has to do something. He has to try.
“Don’t you dare leave me kid,” Tony stammers as he watches his own tears fall on the boy’s face before he gives him some of his own oxygen.
Tony waits, but nothing changes.
“Peter. You- You can’t leave me kid. It was supposed to be me,” Tony cries as he tries again. “I’m so sorry Peter. Please, Please, Please.” And Tony breathes for the kid again.
It seems like Tony is going to have to try again, but suddenly a strangled breath is being pulled into Peter’s lungs. The boy doesn’t do anything other than breath, but that doesn’t bother Tony. His kid is here and breathing.
“There you go buddy,” Tony says as he leans forward, planting a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Just breathe babby, you’re doing so good.”