Work Text:
Returning from the dead was not the strangest experience Tony had ever had, but it came close.
One minute he was lying on the battlefield, his chest on fire and his right arm completely numb, his breaths nothing but short, stuttering gasps. Darkness encroached the edge of his vision and it took everything he had to keep his gaze fixed on Pepper, drinking in every detail of her lovely face before his consciousness began to drift.
And then, between one heartbeat and the next, he was here.
He blinked frantically against a bright light and shot upright, throwing himself over the side of the box. His bare feet hit the ground and he jerked upright, hands falling into a defensive position in front of his chest.
Hands. Plural.
Tony stared blankly at his right hand and experimentally wiggled his fingers. They moved easily.
What the hell?
Glancing jerkily around the room, Tony took in what little there was to see: bare, white walls, a door to his right, and a large box in the centre. The box was metallic, the smooth surface broken only by a panel melded into the side. There was writing on the panel in a language that Tony didn’t recognise.
His breathing was harsh, his heart pounding too loud against his ribs. Where was he? Where was everyone else?
A door hissed open and Tony whipped toward it, fists raised. “What the –? Oh. It’s you.”
Nick Fury raised an unimpressed eyebrow. His coat swished as he stepped into the room, his one remaining eye scrutinising Tony’s face. “Well, you seem like your usual self.”
Tony cocked his head, his hackles still raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How do you feel?”
Irritated, Tony dug in his heels. He didn’t lower his fists. “How about you tell me what the hell happened? The last thing I remember is bleeding out in the rubble. Where is everyone?”
Fury considered him, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded toward the door. “Walk and talk, Stark.”
Tony swore silently as Fury swept out of the room, leaving him to scurry in his wake or be left behind. As much as Nick Fury pissed him off, he wasn’t willing to let the chance at answers pass him by.
Besides. He’d missed the man, the last five years. Not that he’d tell him that, of course. Fury had more than enough ego as it was.
He caught up to Fury in the hallway. Ignoring the odd material that made up the walls, which Tony was starting to suspect was not of Earth origin, he shot the taller the man a sideways glance. “So?”
Fury stared ahead as he spoke. “You know that I have always considered the Avengers Initiative to be a necessary program. We are not alone in this universe, and only a select few are capable of defending Earth and the seven billion people who live there.”
“Thanks for the recap. What does this have to do with anything?”
“The question has therefore always been in the backs of our minds: what happens if an Avenger dies? Can we, as a species, afford to let that happen?”
A tingle ran up Tony’s spine. He froze, noting distantly that Fury also pulled to a halt, but the majority of his brain was occupied with trying not to freak out. “What are you saying?” His voice came out scratchy, his throat suddenly dry.
Fury’s expression was solemn. “We called it Project TAHITI. It was a contingency plan – a way to bring an Avenger back to life if the worst happened. But it was flawed.”
Tony clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Flawed? How?”
Fury resumed walking, albeit at a slightly slower pace. “That’s classified, and also none of your business,” he replied after a beat. “Project TAHITI was shut down years ago. But the concept itself was never abandoned, and SHIELD recently partnered with allies to develop new technology for this purpose. And, this time, we believe it has been successful.”
Head swimming, Tony barely noticed that they’d reached the end of the hallway. He did notice when they stepped into a massive hangar filled with strange-looking shuttles and green (green?) humanoid aliens that were scattered through the hangar. Some were fiddling with devices covered in the same strange script as the box, others had their arms elbow-deep in the guts of a shuttle, and all of them communicated in a guttural, foreign speech.
Tony’s mouth hung open.
He noticed that Fury was smirking and shut his jaw with a snap. Gesturing to the aliens, he drew himself to his full height. “You’re allied with aliens?” he demanded. “How long has this been going on?”
Fury clasped his hands behind his back, utterly unperturbed. “Classified. All you need to know is that you owe these people your life. It was only through a combination of their technology and our own that we were able to bring you back.”
Bring you back.
A buzzing sound filled Tony’s ears, blocking out the sounds of the work going on around him.
Bring you back.
From the moment he woke up, Tony’s mind had skittered around the idea, unwilling to examine it for more than a moment.
Bring you back.
His gaze wandered around the hangar, drifting over the aliens and the shuttles and the odd metallic walls before settling back on Nick Fury’s face. He wet his lips. “I died.”
It wasn’t a question.
Fury watched him with sad, dark eyes. “You saved the world,” he corrected. “And we are all grateful.”
Tony nodded slowly. “You want to pay me back? I want to see Pepper.”
The biggest problem with being brought back to life, Tony decided, was that it was disconcerting.
More for everyone else than for him, to be clear. He didn’t remember being dead, so after the initial shock it had been easy enough to adjust to the news. But the first time he’d ventured out of the cabin to pick up a meal, he’d been greeted by nothing but shocked looks and dropped jaws. The restaurant fell silent, every neck craned toward him, a half-dozen phones snapping photos. Tony had plastered on a smile, slipped his meal out of the server's frozen hand, and made sure to leave a generous tip.
The photos went viral less than an hour later.
Pepper, thankfully, handled the news like a champ. Well, actually, she activated the Rescue gauntlet in her watch and held him at repulsor-point for a solid five minutes before Fury talked her down, but Tony wouldn’t have expected anything less. Once she’d been convinced that, yes, it was really Tony and, yes, this was permanent and, no, there was no catch, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, her tears soaking his shirt. Tony had held her no less tightly, pressing his lips to her hair as Fury quietly excused himself.
They cried for hours. Pepper marvelled at the smooth skin on his arm, and Tony marvelled at the pictures she pulled out of Morgan.
They spent a full day trying to decide how to break the news to her, only for it not to matter. Morgan took one look at Tony and ran right into his arms, a six-year-old bundle of pure excitement. She didn’t understand death, not really. As far as she was concerned, Daddy was home, and that was all that mattered.
Except for bedtime. Then, she would clutch Tony’s sleeve and ask in a wavering voice if he would still be there when she woke. Tony’s heart broke every single time.
But it had only been a week. Morgan would adjust; Tony was sure of it. She was Pepper’s daughter, after all. Tough as nails.
Tony hadn’t left the cabin since that first trip to the restaurant. Instead, he held a few interviews over Zoom to confirm his unexpected return, fielded more than a few emotional calls from Happy, and sat through entirely too many flummoxed calls from his stressed-out lawyers, who were struggling to figure out the legal ramifications of resurrection. Tony made the occasional humming noise and more or less tuned them out. Eventually, he would care, he supposed. Right now, he had bigger concerns.
For one: what the hell had happened to the world since he died? He’d made it five days before succumbing to his curiosity and trawling Google for information, but he was left with more questions than answers. Because, apparently, Steve was an old man, now? Sam Wilson was fighting terrorists with none other than the Winter Soldier himself, who was now in possession of a full pardon. Thor had disappeared, as had Bruce, and Wanda had for some reason taken an entire town hostage before fleeing to god knew where.
And then there was the kid. Somehow, he’d been caught up in a debacle in London with the EDITH drones and a new hero called Mysterio, who disappeared as quickly as he arrived. Then, less than six months later, he destroyed parts of the Statue of Liberty while fighting…something? The details were sparse on that one. There were few eyewitness reports, and those that did exist made no goddamn sense.
Well, there was one way to get to the truth. Tony fished his phone out of his pocket before remembering that he’d only had it a week. “Pepper?” he called, pushing up from his desk and wandering into the living room. “Do you have Peter’s number?”
Pepper was sitting on the floor, playing a high-stakes game of snap with Morgan. She glanced up. “Who’s Peter? One of the lawyers?”
Tony frowned. “No. Peter Parker. Yea high, motor-mouth, annoyingly polite? Can bench-press a truck? No?”
Pepper shook her head. Hesitantly, she placed her cards on the floor and touched Morgan on the arm. “Honey? Can you go play in your room for a moment? We’ll come back to the game soon.”
Morgan’s head swung between Pepper and Tony, her eyes large. “Is Daddy going away again?”
Tony was across the room and crouching before her in a flash. “No, I’m not. I promise, okay? I’m not leaving you again.”
Morgan looked at him for a moment, then held out a hand, her little finger extended. “Pinky swear?”
Tony hooked his finger over hers. “Pinky swear,” he said, solemnly.
Satisfied, Morgan gathered her unicorn toy and climbed to her feet. “Okay Daddy,” she said. “I’ll go put Unicorn to bed. And then we’ll finish the game, okay?”
“Okay,” Tony promised. Morgan smiled, then trotted to her room. When she was out of sight, he turned to find Pepper watching him carefully, her face pale.
“What’s going on?” Pepper asked, a faint tremble to her voice. “Do we need to call Fury?”
Tony immediately shook his head. Fury was the last person he wanted involved. “You really don’t remember Peter? Spider-Man’s been all over the news.”
Pepper’s brow creased. “I’ve met Spider-Man,” she said, slowly. “He helped fight Thanos.”
“And? What else do you know about him?”
“Not much,” Pepper shrugged. “I know you liked him – you made his suits, and you brought him to Germany. You fought together in space, before the Blip. But you never found out who was under the mask - no one did.”
“No one?” A picture was starting to form in Tony’s mind, and his gut twisted. “What about Happy?”
“Happy was your go-between for a while. But, as far as I know, he never found out Spider-Man's real name.”
It didn’t make sense. Was he in a parallel timeline? No, he couldn’t be - Fury had brought him back using his own body. Had they messed up the timeline getting the stones? Maybe – but Peter had removed his mask during the battle, hadn’t he? Tony was pretty sure he remembered that. The way Pepper was talking, it seemed no one had the slightest clue who he was.
“Tony? What are you thinking?”
Tony swallowed, meeting Pepper’s worried look with one of his own. “I’m thinking I need to take a trip.”
The kid was living in a shoebox.
Tony pressed his lips together as he picked the lock and swung open the door, revealing the dingy studio apartment that housed one Peter Parker.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. It had taken altogether too much effort for him to track Peter down - forget about low-profile, the kid was practically a ghost. No credit history, no high school diploma. Certainly no college education. Tony’s gut had churned when FRIDAY unearthed Peter’s GED enrolment, and he’d almost dismissed it as an error before seeing the boy’s familiar face smiling uncertainly from an ID.
Peter Parker, a high school drop-out? But why?
Peter's apartment was untidy. His bed was unmade, revealing sheets of rough cotton that were starting to smell even to Tony’s non-super-powered nose. There was a dirty bowl in the sink, a grand total of two vegetables in the fridge, and a pantry that boasted a few packets of ramen and three cans of soup.
The sewing machine was interesting. Tony had seen glimpses of the new suit on YouTube, and once he’d stopped cringing at the idea of a teenager fighting off muggers in nothing but spandex (seriously, Peter, spandex!?), he had to admire the design. Maybe the kid had a sense of style after all. And a willingness to learn, if he’d taught himself to sew specifically to make a suit. He could make use of that.
Tony picked up a Lego figurine that was for some reason perched on the desk and turned it over in his hands. It seemed out of place – the only childish trinket in the otherwise firmly young-adult apartment.
Someone inhaled sharply. Tony tucked the Lego into his palm and turned around.
Peter stood in the doorway, staring at him with wide, brown eyes. He wore a worn coat over his trademark novelty tee, and one arm held a brown grocery bag to his chest. He’d cut his hair from the last time Tony had seen him. It looked good.
Tony smiled. “Hi, Pete.”
He half-expected a hug. Maybe even a few tears.
He wasn’t expecting Peter to clench his jaw and take two stilted steps into the room. “Mr Stark.” The teenager dropped his groceries on the bench and eyed him warily. “What are you doing here?”
Tony’s eyebrows climbed. “Uh – I came back from the dead? I’m doing the rounds, and you made the list. Congratulations.”
Peter nodded. He glanced at his shoes, then at Tony, then slid his gaze to the window. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he muttered.
Tony took a step closer, and Peter took a step back.
Okay, Tony had had just about enough of this shit. “What the hell, Parker?” Annoyed, Tony gestured broadly at the room, Peter, and the situation at large. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“I am!” Peter was still avoiding Tony’s gaze, but there was a silvery sheen to his eyes. “I really am. Pepper and Morgan must be over the moon.”
“So, you remember Pepper.”
Peter shrugged wordlessly.
Tony ground his teeth. “You remember Pepper,” he said, firmly, and took another step closer. This time, Peter didn’t move. “Funny, she doesn’t remember you. How about Happy? Yes, you do, I can see it on your face. It’s a good thing you wear that mask – you have a terrible poker face.”
A muscle jumped in Peter’s jaw. “What do you want?” he snapped, finally meeting Tony’s gaze. “Why are you really here?”
For once, Tony didn’t have a sarcastic reply. “Why wouldn’t I be here?” he asked, softly. “Peter, come on. I tried to check up on you and it was like you never existed. There’s no record of Peter Parker ever attending Midtown Tech. Your friend Ned is in Boston, and he hasn’t been back to visit. Pepper doesn’t remember your name and neither does Happy. And May –” Tony broke off as Peter flinched. He reached out and squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have been there.”
Peter shrugged off his hand. He murmured something, so soft that Tony couldn’t make it out.
“What was that?”
Peter took a measured step toward the door. “I said: you shouldn’t be here.”
If Tony was worried before, it was nothing compared to icy fear he felt now. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why nobody remembers you.”
Peter hesitated. Tony could almost see the gears whirring in his head as he ran through scenarios, rapidly reaching the conclusion that telling the truth was the fastest way to get Tony to leave. “Look, it’s hard to explain,” he said, speaking quickly as though hoping it might make Tony leave faster. “The multiverse was breaking down and the only way to fix things was if nobody remembered Peter Parker. So, Doctor Strange did a spell to make everyone forget.”
Tony blinked. “Did you say ‘multiverse’?”
A ghost of a smile passed over Peter’s face. “Right? It’s so cool. There were other versions of me and everything.”
Well, that sounded…disturbing. Putting that thought aside for the time being, Tony honed in on the more relevant part of Peter’s story. “So, Strange is responsible for this? That’s it, I’m gonna kill him.”
Peter startled. “What? Don’t do that. I asked him to do it.”
“For the love of God, why?”
“We didn’t have a choice!” Peter flailed his arms, flustered. “The fabric of reality was splitting apart! We didn’t exactly have time for a brainstorming session. And it worked, anyway, so clearly it was the right call.”
“It’s clearly not the right call, since you’re now starving in an overpriced apartment, completely forgotten by the people who care about you! Please tell me you know how messed up that is!”
Peter’s cheeks flushed. He opened the door and pointed to the hallway. “Thanks for checking in, Mr Stark,” he said, stiffly. “I really am glad you’re okay.”
“Close the door, kid.”
Peter set his jaw. “I’m not a kid.”
“You’re under twenty-five,” Tony grumbled, stomping across the room and wrenching the door out of Peter’s hand. He determinedly didn’t think about the fact that he could only do it because the kid let him. “That makes you a kid.” He slammed the door shut.
“And when I’m twenty-five?”
Tony didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he sat in the desk chair and nodded at the bed until Peter took the cue and perched atop his blankets.
Leaning forward, Tony rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands before him. “So, the spell made everyone forget. Why didn’t you find Happy and tell him what happened?”
Peter swallowed. Tony waited, clinging to every ounce of patience he had left.
Sighing, Peter picked at the blankets and avoided Tony’s gaze. “My parents died in a car accident when I was five,” he explained. “And when I was fourteen, I got in an argument with my Uncle Ben. I ran off, and while he was looking for me, he was shot in the chest.”
Tony’s breath caught. He remembered reading Ben Parker’s file. He remembered hearing Peter mention his name, once or twice. This was the first he’d heard about an argument.
“Six months ago, I got May killed.”
“Pete, --”
“Tony, you weren’t there.” The use of his name shut Tony right up. He stared at Peter, a lump in his throat. The conviction in his voice...had he ever seen Peter this confident? “You want to know why I didn’t tell anyone who I was? It’s because the people around me die. I'm not putting their lives at risk. Not Happy, not Ned, and not MJ.”
“Is that really your choice to make? They didn’t ask to be cut out of your life.”
“If you’re calling me selfish, then I guess I’m selfish. I can’t do any more funerals.”
“Pushing everyone away is not a solution, kid. Trust me.”.
“Yeah? Well, it’s the best I’ve got.”
Tony stared. Peter stared back, his jaw set in a stubborn line. Tony knew that look. He’d seen it when Peter popped up on that goddamned spaceship, miles above the earth. He’d seen it the day they first met, when Peter had webbed Tony’s hand to the doorknob and ordered him not to tell May.
Tony had never had any luck persuading Peter when he wore that look.
“Alright, fine,” he sighed, throwing himself back in the chair and placing the Lego back on the desk. “I’ll let this go - for now. In the meantime, you look like you could use a decent meal. I think there’s a good – “
“No.” Peter shook his head, firmly. “Mr Stark, I don’t think you understand. When everyone found out who I was…it ruined my life.”
“I hardly think going out for dinner –”
Peter cut him off, palm outstretched for emphasis. “Tell me: why would Tony Stark, newly-resurrected billionaire and Avenger, be sharing a meal with a high school drop-out?”
Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Maybe I’m meeting with you to offer you an internship. A real one, with actual pay that you could use to buy food –”
“I don’t even have my GED. And since when does Tony Stark do recruitment? It’s too suspicious.”
“Fine, we’ll get take-out.”
“In this part of town? You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“At least let me pay your rent.”
“Someone might trace the money.”
Tony groaned. “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?”
Peter folded his arms across his chest. “Did you hear about Mysterio?”
Scrunching his forehead, Tony recalled the articles he’d skimmed a few days earlier and tried to connect them to the current conversation. He came up blank. “Fishbowl-head? What about him?”
“His real name was Quentin Beck.”
The name summoned an image of a dark-haired man with intense blue eyes. Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “The BARF guy? Seriously?”
“You shouldn’t have underestimated him. He was smart. Smart enough to figure out who I was.”
With a sinking heart, Tony realised he knew where the conversation was headed.
“We weren’t careful enough. He – and the people working with him – they found out about me because of my connection to you.” Peter’s gaze dropped to his lap and his voice became miserable. “I appreciate you trying to help, Mr Stark, but you’re too famous. It’s too easy to trace me to you. We need a – a clean break.”
Well, that certainly wouldn’t do. Hesitating, Tony turned the options over in his head. His gaze drifted to the sewing machine in the corner. “What about Spider-Man?” he asked, suddenly.
Peter looked up. “Huh?”
“Everyone forgot Peter Parker but not Spider-Man, right? So, if you visited in your suit, it wouldn’t draw attention.”
Peter frowned. “Visited – at the cabin?”
“Morgan goes to school in the city. We’ll be back after the summer.”
“And – what? You want me to break into your penthouse after dark?”
“Preferably during the day, and ideally without breaking anything. But, yes. Use a window to get in, and you can take the mask off once you’re inside.”
Peter shook his head. “I don’t want Pepper to know.”
Awkwardly, Tony cleared his throat. “It’s a bit late for that.” Peter looked up, and he clicked his tongue apologetically. “How do you think I realised she’d forgotten? We talked it over a few days ago. She’s very keen to meet you – again.”
Peter dug anxiously into his bedsheets, twisting them around his fingers. “Who else knows?”
“Just Pepper. And Happy. And Morgan, probably, because the walls are thin and she has no concept of privacy.”
The sheets tore. Peter flinched and pulled his hands safely back to his lap. “Don’t tell anyone else, okay? Not even the Avengers. I already ruined my life twice.”
Tony was off the chair and next to Peter in a flash. “I promise,” he said, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I mean it, okay? I only want to keep you safe.”
Peter’s eyes searched his, and whatever he found made the boy relax, just a fraction. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Clearing his throat, Tony stood and made his way to the door. Then he swung around and thrust a finger in Peter’s face. “Next Friday, my place. Seven o’clock. Don’t make me suit up to find you.”
A spark of humour appeared in Peter’s eyes for the first time all day and he ducked his head, amused. “No, sir. I’ll be there.”
“I thought I said don’t make me suit up!”
Tony swooped between high-rises, one eye on the red-and-blue figure, the other on the HUD that was currently targeting – was that a lizard?
Spider-Man punched the lizard in the side, then flipped over its tail to plant a foot in the back of its head. “Sorry, sir!” he chirped, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Doctor Connors was causing a commotion in the subway.”
“Doctor?” Tony shot a low-voltage repulsor blast at the creature, who responded by completely ignoring it. “They really give that title to anyone these days, huh?”
Spider-Man snorted and dodged a swing of the creature's arm before twisting around to web its claws into harmless nubs. “Dr Connors is an expert geneticist. He actually does have a PhD.”
Tony hovered over the scene, watching with interest. The kid moved with confidence as he darted in and out of the lizard’s reach, each hit precise. The lizard looked beat but, other than a small gash in his arm, Spider-Man seemed fine. He really had gotten better. “They gave a PhD to a lizard?”
“What? No, he --” Spider-Man broke off into a series of incomprehensible mutters and webbed the creature’s right arm to its side. “Can you help me detain him? There’s a person in there. I think I can help him.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were trying to help the giant, rampaging lizard.” Lifting himself a little higher in the air, Tony upped the voltage and fired two blasts into the lizard’s back. It shrieked and twisted, allowing Spider-Man to web its other arm. “What, do you want me to find a terrarium for this thing?”
Spider-Man paused. Tony sighed. “That was sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“Yeah, but if you could cage him long enough for me to whip up the cure, it would be really helpful.”
Was this what his life had come to? Detaining a mutated scientist until a teenaged whiz kid figured out how to turn it back to human?
Maybe he should just join Barton on the farm.
“Alright, fine. You web him up, I’ll airlift him somewhere safe. But if you think this gets you out of dinner, you’re wrong.”
“Sorry,” Spider-Man said again, sounding sheepish. He wrestled the lizard onto the ground and webbed its feet together before spraying the rest of its body for good measure. “Next week?”
“No excuses this time.” Grabbing the web-line Spider-Man had left for him, Tony grunted and lifted the lizard into the air. “Let me know when you’re ready for him.”
“Will do. Thanks, Mr Stark!”
Spider-Man leapt into the air and swung around a corner. Tony hauled the lizard into the sky and let his mind drift.
Death, resurrection, magic, timelines…it was easy to become lost in it all. A few years ago, he had become lost in it all.
He knew better, now, and he was going to make sure Peter knew too.
Pepper. Morgan. Happy. Peter. The ties that bind.
They were what mattered, and they were real. They were safe.
The wind scudded off his suit and the lizard wriggled, tugging him gently one way and the other. Tony soared higher, and knew what it was to be content.